"With an anecdote respecting him, while he was at Magdalen College, I shall close my letter. It happened one afternoon, at a tea-visit, that several intelligent friends were assembled at his rooms to enjoy each other's conversation, when in comes a member of a certain college, as remarkable at that time for his brutal disposition, as for his good scholarship; who, though he met with a circle of the most peaceable people in the world, was determined to quarrel; and, though no man said a word, lifted up his foot and kicked the tea-table, and all its contents, to the other side of the room. Our poet, though of a warm temper, was so confounded at the unexpected downfal, and so astonished at the unmerited insult, that he took no notice of the aggressor, but getting up from his chair calmly, he began picking up the slices of bread and butter, and the fragments of his china, repeating very mildly, 'Invenias etiam disjecti membra poetæ.' I am your very humble servant, V."+ It appears from Mr. Wooll's Life of Dr. Warton, that the following little poem, which appeared in Gent, Mag. Oct. 1739, was written and communicated by Collins, while a Winchester school-boy. • The translator of Polybius; the Rev. James Hampton, who died 1778 From Gent. Mag. Vol, LI. p. 11. " Sonnet, " Sonnet. "When Phoebe form'd a wanton smile, My soul! it reach'd not here! Strange, that thy peace, thou trembler, flies From 'midst the drops my love is born, The fabled Queen of Love! DELICATULUS." ART. XXI. The Ruminator. Containing a series of moral and sentimental Essays. No. XV. Harry Random's Second Letter to the Ruminator. SIR, TO THE RUMINATOR. You have shewn both courage and good sense by the insertion of my former letter; and I trust you will not lose your credit with me by refusing admission to this. Though my pace is not always equally rapid, you must allow me to be excursive and superficial. I laugh sometimes in bitterness of heart; but I will never expose myself to the accusation of weeping, when I ought to laugh. I leave it to you to • I saw in a Magazine, not long ago, a copy of a Letter from a Mr. Jɔha Ragdale, dated 1783, giving some account of Collins from personal ac. quaintance, corresponding in all material points with the above. It has been too lately laid before the public to be inserted again here. Editor. be be angry with those at whom you ought to smile; and to be indignant where you should despise. You remember that extraordinary passage in the epitaph which Swift wrote for himself: "Ubi seva indignatio ulterius cor lacerare nequit !" But yet I will do you the justice to say, that you have not the spleen and misanthropy of Swift; witness those glowing passages of praise which often appear upon your pages; and which, in my opinion, would frequently admit of some abatement. For me, who wander over the wide world with a determination to let nothing dwell seriously on my mind; but skimming the surface of every thing, to enjoy its sweets, and lightly reject its bitters; for me, the world appears a comedy; and, to own the truth, too much of a comedy! If it does not call forth my resentment, alas! it too little generates my love. You haters have the advantage of us there: I perceive you can love too, with violence! You remind me too acutely of the words of a common song: "A generous friendship no cold medium knows; HARRY RANDOM, with all his carelessness and gaiety, and all his attempts to "set the table in a roar," knows not these gratifying extremes! Look, however, around you on the world; or if you must confine yourself to literature, look on your brother authors, and observe how little there is worthy either of affection or disgust. I wish, therefore, you would learn to treat your subjects with a little more complacency; with a little more of that playfulness of ideas, which generates ease and cheerfulness; instead of assuming the character of "Wisdom in sable garb array'd, 甫 Immers'd in rapturous thought profound; And Melancholy, silent Maid, With leaden eye, that loves the ground!" I had written thus far, when your two last numbers reached me; having been for some time absent from this place on a tour. Your last proves to me how little you are affected by my advice; or, perhaps, how little capable you are of variation! O Sir, do not, I beseech you, indulge so much in these dull sermonizing essays! You infect even me with your gravity! Instead of moving with my wonted elasticity, I shall become as soporific as yourself! Why should you argue with such solemn earnestness for the privileges of poets? I do not know in what they differ from other men, unless in their imprudence and their folly! If an author makes me laugh, l'am grates ful to him; but I cannot forgive his troublesome eccentricities, because, forsooth, he makes not only himself, but his readers, miserable! It is said that Dulce est decipere in loco; and what is the place, in which this is not desirable? You are told by your correspondent, Londinensis, "to unmask pretended patriotism, and detect the empiricism of ministers." Do it then with a playful hand, if you can; gently and smilingly draw off the disguise; but tear it not open with rude indignation, leaving wounds by the violence of the rent; nor probe the the sore to the bottom with a rough and unsparing lancet. The man, who makes us smile is forgiven even while he exposes us; but severity, harshness, and insult no one ever forgets. And are you in such conscious security yourself, as undauntedly to incur the hazard of revenge? I have heard that you have enemies enough without wantonly provoking more'; or whetting the appetites of those, to whose malice have been already exposed! You have been guilty of unpardonable offences among your neighbouring squires: you "Fame in the shape of one Sir Harry Who prowl'd the country far and near, up the cows, and lam'd the deer, And suck'd the eggs, and kill'd the pheasants." * "For something he was heard to mutter, How in the park beneath an old tree He once or twice had pen'd a sonnet; See Gray's Long Story. VOL. VI. + Ibid. No, |