Sequel to the English reader, or, Elegant selections in prose and poetry ...

Front matter

o x "

*5 *+

V-

Part I.— Pieces In Prose Chapter I. Narrative Pieces

P«g»

"Ssct. 1. Religion the foundation of content. An allegory, li

2. The vision of Mirza ; exhibiting a picture of human life, 15 ^.■Endeavours of mankind: to get rid of their burdens; a

"4. The same subject continued, -- - • 19

5. The vision of Almet, . - - - 21

6. Religion and superstition contrasted. A vision, - 25

Chapter II Didactic Pieces

Sect, 1. Vicious connexions the ruin of virtue, - - .24

2. On cheerfulness, - - - -- - 31

3. Happy effects of contemplating the works nf nature, 33 4. , Reflections on the universal presence -of the. Deity, 34

Chapter Iii.— Argumentative Pieces

Sect. 1. Our imperfect knowledge-ofa future state, suited to the

condition of man, 37

2. Youth the proper season for gaining ' knowledge, and

forming religious habits, 40

3. The truth of Christianity proved, from the conversion of

the Apostle, Paul, - - - - 43

Chapter Iv.-^descriptive Pieces

■-Sect. 1. The heavens and the earth show the glory and the wisdom of their Creator. — The earth happily adapted to the nature of man, - - - - 45

2. An eruption of Mount'Vesuvius, - - - 47

3. ; Description of the preparations -made by Xerxes, the Persian Monarch, ibr invading Greece, - - 49

4. Character of Martin Luther, - - - 51 6. The good and bad man compared, in the season of adversity, . - . - . - - - - $3

CHAPTER V.— PATHETIC PIECES. ^Sbct. -1. Rome saved by female virtue, - 65

.2. Execution of Cranmer, 'Archbishop of Canterbury, 69

-3. Christianity furnishes the best consolation under the evil»

of life, - - - - fejl

A. Benefits to be rderived .from scenes ol .distress, .- ,-42

CONTENTS. 9

CHAPTER VI— DIALOGUES. Page

6&CT. 1. Theron and Aspasio.— Beauty and utility combined in the

productions of nature, 66

2. Cadmus and Hercules. — Importance of literature, 68

3. Marcus Aurelius Philosophus and Servius Tullius. — An

absolute and limited monarchy compared, - 71

4. Theron and Aspasio. — On the excellence of the Holy

Scriptures, 74

Chapter Vii— Public Speeches

Sect. 1. The defence of Socrates before his Judges, - 78

2. The Scythian ambassadors to Alexander, on his making

preparations to attack their country, - - 81

3. Speech of the earl of Chatham, on the subject of employ-

ing Indians to fight against the Americans, • 83

Chapter Viii— Promiscuous Pieces

Sect. 1. The Voyage of Life: an allegory, 85

2. The vanity of those pursuits which have human appro-

bation for their chief object, 88

3. The folly and misery of idleness, - - • 91

4. The choice of our situation in life, a point of great im-

portance, - - - - - 94

5. No life pleasing to God, that is not useful to man. An

eastern narrative, .... 97

6. Character of the Great Founder of Christianity, - 101

7. The spirit and laws of Christianity superior to those of

every other religion, - 102

8. The vision of Carazan : Or, social love and beneficence

recommended, - 104

9. Creation the product of divine goodness, - - 107

10. The benefits of religious retirement, - - 108

11. History often days of Seged, emperor of Ethiopia, 113

12. History of Seged continued, - - - 116

13. The vision of Theodore, the hermit of Teneriffe, found in

14. The vision of Theodore continued, - - 122

15. The vision of Theodore continued, - . 125

Part Ii— Pieces In Poetry, Chapter I Narrative Pieces

ir. 1, The chameleon ; or pertinacity exposed, • • 128

2. The hare and many friend. , ... 12Q

3. The three warnings, - 131

*S© CONTENTS.

CHAPTER II -^DIDACTIC PIECES.

Pag*

bm OT. I. The love of the world detected, - 138

J2. On Friendship, 139

3. Improvement of time recommended. * • 144

CHAPTER III.— DESCRIPTIVE PIECES.

Sect. 1. The Spring - 145

2. Description of winter at Copenhagen, - ■» 146

,3. Night described, ----.. 147

5. Description of a Parish poor-house, - • 151

6. A summer evening's meditation, -- 152

7. Cheerfulness, ~ -. 155

CHAPTER W — PATHETIC PIECES,

•ftscr. I. Hymn to humanity, .... 159

2. A night-piece on death, - - - - 161

3. In every condition of life, praise is due to the Creator, 163

4. Folly of human pursuits, ib.

5. An address to the Deity, - - - - 165

6. A monody on the death of lady Ly ttelton, - ] 67

CHAPTER V.— PROMISCUOUS PIECES.

-Sect. 1. Hymn to contentment, - - - -- 171

2. An elegy written in a country church-yard, • 172

3. Ode to wisdom, - - - - - 175

4. The Rake and the Hermit, - .- - 177

5. The deserted village, - - - - 180 -6. The deserted village, continued, - - .- 184 '7. The Traveller; or, a prospect of society, - - 188

8. The Traveller, continued, - - - • 192

9. The vanity of human wishes, ... 197 10. The vanity of human wishes, continued, - - 201 APPENDIX, -400

SEQUEL

TO

THE ENGLISH READER*

FARTL PIECES m PROSE.

Chapter I. Narrative Pieces

SECTION L

Religion the foundation of Content. An Allegory.

OM 4 R, the hermit of the mountain Aubukabis, which rises in thi •ast of Mecca, and overlooks the city, found one evening a man sitting pensive and alone, within a few paces of his cell. Omar regarded him with attention, and perceived that his looks were w ild and haggard, and that his body wa& feeble and emaciated. The man also seemed to gaze steadfastly on Omar ; but such was the absti action of his mind, that his eye did not immediately take cognizance of its object. In the moment of recollection he started as from a dream ; he covered his face ki eonfusion; and bowed himself to the grcnnd. "Son of affliction," said Omar, "who art thou<, and what is thy distress?" " My name," replied the stranger, " is Hassan, and I am a native of this city. The angel of adversity has laid his hand upon me, and the wretch whom thine e) e compassionates thou canst not deliver." u To deliver thee," said Omar, " belongs to him • »nly from whom we should receive with humility both good and evil ; yet aide not thy life from me ; for the burden which I cannot remn\ e, I may at least enable thee to sustain." Hassan fixed his eyes upon the ground, and remained some time silent; then fetching a leep ligh, he looked up at the hermit, and thus complied with his request.

" It is now six years since our mighty lord the caliph ALnaJic, whose memory be blessed, first came privately to worship in the tern* pie of the holy city. The blessing which he petitioned of the pr<>| >het, as the prophet's vicegerent, he was diligent to dispense. In the intervals of his devotion, therefore, he went about the city relieving dts tress and restraining oppression ; the widow smiled under his protet tioft, and the weakness of age and infancy was sustained by his biRinty. uo dreaded no evil but sickness, and expected no good beyond

It Sequel to tlit English Reader. Pari I

the reward of my labour, was singing- at my work, when Almalie entered my dwelling. He looked round with a smile of complacen* cy ; perceiving that though it was mean, it was neat ; and though I was poor, I appeared to be content. As his habit was that of a pilgrim, I hastened to receive him with such hospitality as was in my power ; and my cheerfulness was rather increased than restrained by his presence. After he had accepted some coffee, he asked me many questions, and though by my answers I always endeavoured to excite him to mirth, yet I perceived that he grew thoughtful, and eyed me with a placid but fixed attention. I suspected that he had 6ome knowledge of me, and therefore inquired his country and his name. " Hassan, 1 ' said he, " I have raised thy curiosity, and it shall be satisfied : he who now talks with thee, is Almalie, the sovereign of the faithful, whose seat is the throne of Medina, and whose commission is from above." These words struck me dumb with as tonishment, though I had some doubt of their truth : but Almalie throwing back his garment, discovered the peculiarity of his vest, and put the royal signet upon his finger. I then started up, and wat about to prostrate myself before him, but he prevented me : " Hassan," said he, " forbear : thou art greater than I ; and from thee I have at once derived humility and wisdom." I answered, " Mock no* thy servant, who is but a worm before thee ; life and death are in thy hand, and happiness and misery are the daughters of thy will." " Hassan," he replied, " I can no otherwise give life and happiness, than by not talcing them away : thou art thyself beyond the reach of my bounty ; and possessed of felicity which I can neither communicate nor obtain. My influence over others, fills my bosom with perpetual solicitude and anxiety ; and yet my influence over others extends only to their vices, whether I would reward or punish. By the bow- string, I can repress violence and fraud ; and by the delegation of power, I can transfer the insatiable wishes of avarice and ambition from one object to another : but with respect to virtue, I am impotent ; if I could reward it, I would reward it in thee. Thou art content, and hast therefore neither avarice nor ■ wnbition. To exalt thee, would destroy the simplicity of thy life, and diminish that happiness which I have no power either to increase or to continue." — He then rose up, and commanding me not to disclose his secret, departed.

" As soon as I recovered from the confusion and astonishment m which the caliph left me, I began to regret that my behaviour had intercepted his bounty; and accused that cheerfulness of folly which was the concomitant of poverty and labour. I now repined at the obscurity of my station, which my former insensibility had perpetuated. I neglected my labour, because I despised the reward ; I spent the day in idleness, forming romantic projects to re- -cover the advantages which I had lost: and at night, instead of losing myself in that sweet and refreshing sleep, from which I used to rise with new health, cheerfulness, and vigour, I dreamed of splendid habits and a numerous retinue, of gardens, palaces, feast ing, and pleasures ; and waked only to regret the illusions that had

Chap. I. Narrative Pieces 23

ranished. My health was at length impaired by the inquietude of my mind ; I sold all my moveables for subsistence ; and reseiTed only a mattress, upon which I sometimes lay from one night to another.

" In the first moon of the following year, the caliph came again to Mecca, with the same secrecy, and for the same purposes, lie was willing 1 once more to see the man, whom he considered as deriving felicity from himself. But he found me, not singing at my work, ruddy with health, vivid with cheerfulness ; but pale and dejected, sitting on the ground, and chewing opium, which contributed to substitute the phantoms of imagination for the realities of greatness. He entered with a kind of joyful impatience in his countenance, which, the moment he beheld me, was changed to a mixture of wonder and pity. I had often wished for another opportunity to address the caliph; yet I was confounded at his presence, and, throw, ing myself at his feet, I laid my hand upon my head, and was speechless, " Hassan," said he, " what canst thou have lost, whoso wealth was the labour of thine own hand ; and what can have made thee sad, the spring of whose joy was in thy own bosom ? What evil hath befallen thee ? Speak, and if I can remove it, thou art happy." I was now encouraged to look up, and I replied, " Let my lord forgive the presumption of his servant, who rather than utter a -falsehood, would be dumb forever. I am become wretched by the loss of that which I never possessed. Thou hast raised wishes, which indeed I am not worthy thou shouldst satisfy; but why should tt be thought, that he who was happy in obscurity and indigence, would not have been rendered more happy by eminence and wealth?"

" When I had finished this speech, Almalic stood some moment* in suspense, and I continued prostrate before him. " Hassan." said lie, " I perceive, not with indignation, but regret, that I mistook thy character. I now discover avarice and ambition in thy heart, which lay torpid only because their objects were too remote to rouse them. I cannot therefore invest thee with authority, because I would not subject my people to oppression ; and because I would not be compelled to punish thee for crimes which I first enabled thee to commit. But as I have taken from thee that which I cannot restore, I will at least gratify the wishes that I excited, lest thy heart accuse me of injustice, and thou continue still a stranger to thyself. Arise, therefore, and follow me."— I sprungfrom the ground as it were with the wings of an eagle; I kissed the hem of his garment in an ecstasy of gratitude and joy ; and when 1 went out of my house, my heart leaped as if I had escaped from the den of a Hon. I followed Almalic to the caravansary in which lie lodged ; and after he had fulfilled his vows, he took me with him to Medina. He gave me an apartment in the seraglio ; I was attended by his own servants ; my provisions were sent from his own table ; I received every week a sum from his treasury, which exceed, ed the most romantic of my expectations. But I soon discovered, that no dainty was so tasteful, as the food to which labour procured

B

' 4 Sequel to the English Reader. Fart 1

an appetite : no slumbers so sweet, as those which weariness invit ed i and no time so well enjoyed, as that in which diligence is ex pecting its leward. I remembered these enjoyments with regret; and while I was sighing in the midst of superfluities, which, though they encumbered life, yet I could not give up, they were suddenly taken away. Almalic, in the midst of the glory of his kingdom, and in the full vigour of his life, expired suddenly in the bath: suck thou knowest was the destiny which the Almighty had written upoi his head.

" His son Aububekir, who succeeded to the throne, was incensed against me, by some who regarded me at once with contempt and envy. He suddenly withdrew my pension, and commanded that I should be expelled the palace; a command which my enemies exe. cuted with so much rig-our, that within twelve hours I found myself in the streets of Medina, indigent and friendless, exposed to hunger, and derision, with all the habits of luxury, and all the sensibility of pride. Oh ! let not thy heart despise me, thou whom experience has not taught, that it is misery to lose that which it is not happiness to possess. Oh ! that for me this lesson had not been written on the tablets of Providence ! I have travelled from Medina to Mecca ; but I cannot fly from myself. How diiFerent are the states in which I have been placed! The remembrance of both is bitter: for the pleasures of neither can return.'" — Hassan having thus ended his story, smote his hands together; and looking upwards, burst into tears.

Omar having waited till this agcny was past, went to him, and taking him by the hand, " My son, r said he, " more is yet in thy power than Almalic could give, or Aububekir take away. The les. son of thy life the prophet has in mercy appointed me to explain."

" Thou wast once content with poverty and labour, only because they were become habitual, and ease and affluence were placed beyond thy hope ; for when ease and affluence approached thee, thou wast content with poverty and labour no more. That which then became the object, was also the bound of thy hope ; and he, whose utmost hope is disappointed, must inevitably be wretched. If thy supreme desire had been the delights of paradise, and thou had be lieved that, by the tenor of th} r life, these delights had been secured, as more could not have been given thee, thou wouldst not have regretted that less was not offered. The content which was once en joyed, was but the lethargy of soul ; and the distress which is now suffered, will but quicken it to action. Depart, therefore, and bo thankful for all tilings ; put thy tru?t in Him, who alone can gratify the wish of reason, and satisfy thy soul with good ; fix thy hope upon that portion, in comparison of which the world is as the drop of the bucket, and the dust of the balance. Return, my son, to thy labour; thy food shall be again tasteful, and thy rest shall be sweet; to thy content also will be added stability, when it depends not upon that which is possessed upon earth, but upon that which is expected in heaven. 1?

Hassan, upon whose mmd the angel of instruction impressed the

Chap. 1. Narrative Pieces. IS

counsel of Omar, hastened to prostrate himself in the temple of the prophet. Peace dawned upon his mind, like the radiance of the morning- : he returned to his labour with cheerfulness ; his devotion became fervent and habitual; -and the latter days of Hassan were happier than the first.

OR JOHNSON,

SECTION II. The vision of Mirza ; exhibiting a picture of human Irf^

On the fifth day of the moon, which according to the custom of my forefathers, I always keep holy, after having- washed myself, and offered up my morning- devotions, I ascended the high hills of Bagdat, in order to pass the rest of the day in meditation aad prayer. As I was here refreshing- myself on the tops of the mountains, I fell into a profound contemplation on the vanity of human life ; and passing from one thought to another, Surely, said I, man is but a shadow, and life a dream. Wliilst I was thus musing-, I cast mj r eyes towards the summit of a rock that was not far from me, where I discovered one in the habit of a shepherd, but who was in reality a being of superior nature. I drew near with profound reverence, and fell down at his feet. The g-enius smiled upon me with a look of compassion and af fability, that familiarized him to my imagination, and at once dispelled all the fears and apprehensions with which I approached him. He lifted me from the ground, and taking me by the hand, Mirza, said lie, I have heard thee in thy soliloquies ; follow me.

He then led me to the highest pinnacle of the rock ; and placing me on the top of it, Cast thy eyes eastward, said he, and tell me what thou seest. I see, said I, a huge valley, and a prodigious tide of water rolling through it. The valley that thou seest, said he, is the vale of misery ; and the tide of water that thou seest, is part of the great tide of eternity. "What is the reason, said I, that the tide I see, rises out of a thick mist at one end, and again loses itself in a thick mist at the other ? What thou seest, said he, is that portion of eternity which is called Time, measured out by the sun, and reaching from the beginning of the world to its consummation. Examine now, said he, this sea that is bounded with darkness at both ends, and tellme what thou discoverest in it. 1 see a bridge, said I, standing in tine midst of the tide. The bridge thou seest, said he, is human life ; consider it attentively. Upon a more leisurely survey of it, I found that it consisted of threescore and ten entire arches, with several broken urches, which, added to those that were entire, made up the nurnbei about a hundred. As I was counting the arches, the genius told me that this bridge consisted at first of a thousand ; but that a great flood swept away the rest, and left the bridge in the ruinous condition 1 now beheld it. But tell me further, said he, what thou discoverest on it. I see multitudes of people passing over it, said I, and a black cloud hanging on each end of it. As I looked mere attentively, I saw several of the passengers dropping through the bridge into the freat tide that flowed underneath it : and, upon further examiaa.

lion, perceived there were innumerable trap doors that lay concealed in the bridge, which the passengers no sooner trod upon, than they fell through them into the tide, and immediately disappeared. These hidden pitfalls were set very thick at the entrance of the bridge, so lhat throngs of people no sooner broke through the cloud than many fell into them. They grew thinner towards the middle, but multi. plied and lay closer together towards the end of the arches that were entire. There were indeed some persons, but their number was very small, that continued a kind of hobbling march on the broken arches, but fell through one after another, being quite tired and spent with so long a walk.

I passed some time in the contemplation of this wonderful struc ture, and the great variety of objects which it presented. My heart was filled with a deep melancholy, to see several dropping unexpect, edly in the midst of mirth and jollity, and catching at every thing that stood by them to save themselves. Some were looking up to. wards the heavens in a thoughtful posture, and, in the midst of 3 speculation, stumbled and fell out of sight. Multitudes were very busy in the pursuit of bubbles that glittered in their eyes, and danced before them : but often, when they thought themselves within the reach of them, their footing failed, and down they sunk. In this confusion of objects, I observed some with scimitars in their hands, and others with urinals, who ran to and fro upon the bridge, thrust. mg several persons on trap-doors which did not seem to lie in theii way, and which they might have escaped had they not been thu> forced upon them.

The genius seeing me indulge myself in this melancholy prospect, told me I had dwelt long enough upon it. Take thine eyes off the bridge, said he, and tell me if thou seest any thing thou dost noi comprehend. Upon looking up, What mean, said I, those great flights of birds that are perpetually hovering about the bridge, and 6etting upon it from time to time ? I see vultures, harpies, ravens, cormorants, and, among many other feathered creatures, several little winged boys that perch in great numbers upon tl*e middle arches These, said the genius, are envy, avarice, superstition, despair, tov& with the like care" an! passions that infest human life.

I here fetched a deep sigh. Alas, said I, man was made in vain \ how is he given away to misery and mortality ! tortured in life, and swallowed up in death ! The genius being moved with compassioD towards me, bid me quit so uncomfortable a prospect. Look no more, said he, on man in the first stage of his existence, in his setting out for eternity ; but cast thine eye on that thick mist into which th.6 tide bears the several generations of mortals that fall into it. I directed my sight as I was ordered, and (whether or not the good ge« oius strengthened it with any supernatural force, or dissipated part of the mist that was before too thick for the eye to penetrate) I saw -he valley opening at the farther end, and spreading forth into an immense ocean that had a huge rock of adamant running through the midst of it, and dividing it into two equal parts. The clouds still rested on one half of it, insomuch that I could discover nothing in it,

Chap 1. Narrative Pieces. If

but the other appeared to me a vast ocean, planted with innumerable islands, that were covered with fruits and flowers, and interwoven with a thousand little shining- seas that ran among them I could see persons dressed in glorious habits, with garlands upon their heads, passing among the trees, lying down by the sides of fountains, or rest ing on beds of flowers. Gladness grew in me at the discovery of so delightful a scenj. I wished for the wings of an eagle that I might fly away to those happy seats ; but the genius told me there was no passage to them, except through the gates of death that I saw open, ing every moment upon the bridge. The islands, said he, that lie so fresh and green before thee, and with which the whole face of the ocean appears spotted as far as thou canst see, are more in number than the sands on the sea-shore. There are myriads of islands be. hind those which thou here discoverest, reaching further than thine eye, or even thine imagination, can extend itself. These are the mansions of good men after death, who, according to the degree and kinds of virtue in which they excelled, are distributed among these several islands, which abound with pleasures of different kinds and degrees, suitable to the relishes and perfections of those who are settled in them : every island is a paradise accommodated to its respective inhabitants. Are not these, O Mirza, habitations worth contending for ? Does life appear miserable, that gives thee opportunities qf earning such a reward? Is death to be feared, that will convey thee to so happy an existence ? Think not man was made in vain, who has such an eternity reserved for him. — I gazed with inexpressible pleasure on these happy islands. At length, said I, show me now, I beseech thee, the secrets that lie hid under those dark nlouds, which cover the ocean on the other side of the rock of adamant. The genius making no answer, I turned about to address myself to him a second time, but I found that he had left me. I then turned again to the vision which I had been so long contemplating , but instead of the rolling tide, the arched bridge, and the happy islands, I saw nothing" but the long- hollow valley of Bagdat, witL cxen, sheep, and camels, grazing upon the sides of it.

. ADDISON

SECTION III. Endeavours of mankind to get rid of their burdens; a dream.*

It is a celebrated thought of Socrates, that if all the misfortune* of mankind were cast into a public stock, in order to be equally distributed among the whole species, those who now think them 6elves the most unhappy, would prefer the share they are already possessed of, before that which would fall to them by such a divi. sion. Horace has carried this thought a great deal further: he says that the hardships or misfortunes which we lie under, are mere easy to us than those of any other person would be, in case we could change conditions with him.

* Dr Johnson used to say, that this Essay of Addison's on the burdens a' mankind, was the most exquisite he had ever read. U 9

?» Sequel to the English Reader. Pari t

As I was ruminating on these two remarks, and seated in my el bow-chair, I insensibly fell asleep, when, on a sudden, I thought there was a proclamation made by Jupiter, that every mortal should bring in his griefs and calamities, and throw them together in a heap. There was a large plain appointed for this purpose. I took my stand in the centre of it, and saw, with a great deal of pleasure, the whole human species marching one after another, and throwing down their several loads, which immediately grew up into a prodi gious mountain, that seemed to rise above the clouds.

There was a certain lady of a tliin airy shape, who was very ae tive in this solemnity. She carried a magnifying glass in one of he? hands, and was clothed in a loose flowing robe, embroidered with several figures of fiends and spectres, that discovered themselves in a thousand chimerical shapes, as her garment hovered in the wind. There was something wild and distracted in her looks. Her name was Fakcy. She led up every mortal to the appointed place, after having very officiously assisted him in making up his pack, and laying it upon his shoulders. My heart melted within me, to see my fellow-creatures groaning under their respective burdens, and to coj>. ?: '* '* that prodigious bulk of human calamities which lay he fore me.

There were, however, several persons who gave me great diver sion upon this occasion. I observed one bringing in a fardel very carefully concealed under an old embroidered cloak, which, upon his throwing it into the heap, I discovered to be Poverty. Another, afl ?r a great deal of puffing, threw down his luggage, which, upon examining, I found to he his wife.

There were numbers of lovers saddled with very whimsical burden,? composed of darts and flames ; but, what was very odd, though they sighed as if their hearts would break under these bundles of calamities, they could not persuade themselves to cast them into the heap, when they came up to it : but, after a few faint efforts,, shook their heads, and marched away as heavy laden as they came.. I saw multitudes of old women throw down their wrinkles, and several young ones who stripped themselves of a tawny skin. There were very great heaps of red noses, large lips, and rusty teeth. The truth of it is, I was surprised to see the greater part of the mountain made up of bodily deformities. Observing one advancing towards the heap, with a larger cargo than ordinary upon his back, I found upon his near approach, that it was only a natural hump, which he disposed of, with great joy of heart, among this collection of human miseries. There were likewise distempers of all sorts j though I could not but observe, that there were many more imaginary than real. One little packet I could not but take notice of, which was a complication of all the diseases incident to human nature, and was io the hand of a great many fine people : this was called the Spleen |5ut what most of all surprised me, was a remark I made, that there was not a single vice or folly thrown into the whole heap ; at whick 1 eras very much astonished, having concluded within myself, thai