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petty tribe, among whom it is lamentable, as Gray
remarks, to find beings capable of envying even à
poet laureate. He stood their attacks for some time,
without à sensible diminution of character; and his
comedy of the “ School for Lovers,” which was
brought out in 1762, before it was the fashion to de-
spise him, was pretty well received, as an easy and
chaste imitation of the manners of well-bred life. But
in the same year the rabid satire of Churchill sorely
smote his reputation. Poor Whitehead made no
reply. Those who, with Mason, consider his silence
as the effect of a pacific disposition, and not of imbe-
cility, will esteem him the more for this forbearance,
and will apply to it the maxim, Rarum est eloquenter
loqui varias eloquenter tacere. Among his unpublished
loqui varias eloquenter tacere. Among h
MSS. there were even found verses expressing a
compliment to Churchill's talents. There is some-
thing, no doubt, very amiable in a good and candid
man taking the trouble to cement rhymes upon the
genius of a blackguard, who had abused him; bút
the effect of all this candour upon his own genera-
tion, reminds us how much more important it is,
for a man's own advantage, that he should be
formidable than harmless. His candour could not
prevent his poetical character from being completely
killed by Churchill. Jastly, some will say, he was
too stupid to resist his adversary. I have a different
opinion, both as to the justice of his fate, and the
cause of his abstaining from retaliation. He certainly
wrote too many insipid things; but a tolerable se-

d blows at not to have been so wholly destinad

lection might be made from his works, that would discover his talents to be no legitimate object of contempt; and there is not a trait of arrogance or vanity, in any one of his compositions, that deserved to be publicly humiliated. He was not a satirist ; but he wanted rather the gall than the ingenuity that is requisite for the character. If his heart had been full of spleen, he was not so wholly destitute of humour, as not to have been able to deal some hard blows at Churchill, whose private character was a broad mark; and even whose writings had many vapid parts that were easily assailable. Had Whitehead done so, the world would probably have liked him the better for his pugnacity. As it was, his name sunk into such a by.word of contempt, that Garrick would not admit his “ Trip to Scotland” on the stage, unless its author was concealed. He also found it convenient to publish his pleasing tale, entitled “ Variety," anonymously. The public applauded both his farce and his poem, because it was not known that they were Whitehead's.

In 1769 he obtained an unwilling permission from Lord Jersey to remove to private lodgings; though he was still a daily expected guest at his lordship’s table in town; and he divided his summers between the country residences of the Jersey and Harcourt families. His health began to decline about his seventieth year, and in 1785'he was carried off by a complaint in his chest. His death was sudden, and his peaceable life was closed without a groan.

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PLEASE you, great queen, In yon pavilion to repose, and wait Th’ arrival of the king. Creusa.

What youth is this? There's something in his eyes,
His shape, his voice.-What may we call thee, youth?

Ilyssus. The servant of the god who guards this fane.
Creusa. Bear’st thou no name?

Ilyssus, gracious queen,
The priests and virgins call me.

Ha! Ilyssus!
That name's Athenian. Tell me, gentle youth,
Art thou of Athens then?
- Ilyssus.

I have no country;
Nor know I whence I am.

Who were thy parents ? Thy father, mother?

Ilyssus. Ever honour'd queen,
I never knew a mother's tender cares,
Nor heard th' instructions of a father's tongue.

Creusa. How cam’st thou hither?

Eighteen years are past
Since in the temple's portal I was found
A sleeping infant.

Eighteen years! good heaven!

That fatal time recals a scene of woem
Let me not think.–Were there no marks to shew
From whom or whence thou wert?

I have been told
An osier basket, such as shepherds weave,
And a few scatter'd leaves, were all the bed
And cradle I could boast.

Unhappy child ! But more, O ten times more unhappy they Who lost perhaps in thee their only offspring ! What pangs, what anguish, must the mother feel, Compell’d, no doubt, by some disastrous fate-But this is all conjecture. Ilyssus.

O great queen, Had those from whom I sprung been form'd like thee, Had they e'er felt the secret pangs of nature, They had not left me to the desart world So totally expos'd. I rather fear I am the child of lowliness and vice, And happy only in my ignorance.

Why should she weep? O if her tears can fall For ev'n a stranger's but suspected woes, How is that people blest where she presides As queen, and mother!—Please you, I retire ?

Creusa. No, stay. Thy sentiments at least bespeak A gen'rous education. Tell me, youth, How has thy mind been form’d? Ilyssus.

In that, great queen, I never wanted parents. The good priests And pious priestess, who with care sustain'd

My helpless infancy, left not my youth
Without instruction. But 0, more than all,
The kindest, best good man, a neighb'ring sage,
Who has known better days, though now retir'd
To a small cottage on the mountain's brow,
He deals his blessings to the simple swains
In balms and powerful herbs. He taught me things
Which my soul treasures as its dearest wealth,
And will remember ever. The good priests,
'Tis true, had taught the same, but not with half
That force and energy; conviction's self
Dwelt on Aletes' tongue.

Aletes, said'st thou?
Was that the good man's name?

It is, great queen, For yet he lives, and guides me by his counsels.

Creusa. What did he teach thee?

To adore high heaven,
And venerate on earth heaven's image, truth !
To feel for others' woes, and bear my own
With manly resignation.--Yet I own
Some things he taught me, which but ill agree
With my condition here. .

-- What things were those ? Ilyssus. They were for exercise, and to confirm My growing strength. And yet I often told him The exercise he taught resembled much What I had heard of war. He was himself A warrior once.

Creusa. And did those sports delight thee?

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