and he published in 1764 "Essays on Husbandry," which are said to be remarkable for their elegance and perspicuity.

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Dr. Johnson, according to Boswell, said, "that "Harte was a very vain man: that he left London on the day of his Life of Gustavus' being published, in order to avoid the great praise he was "to receive; but Robertson's History of Scotland' "having come out the same day, he was ashamed "to return to the scene of his mortification." This sarcastic anecdote comes in the suspicious company of a blunder as to dates, for Robertson's "History "of Scotland" was published a month after Harte's "Life of Gustavus ;" and it is besides, rather an odd proof of a man's vanity, that he should have run away from expected compliments.

The failure of his historical work is alleged to have mortified him so deeply, as to have affected his health. All the evidence of this, however, is deduced from some expressions in his letters, in which he complains of frequent indisposition. His biographers, first of all, take it for granted, that a man of threescore could not possibly be indisposed from any other cause than from reading harsh reviews of his "Life of Gustavus;" and then, very consistently, show the folly of his being grieved at the fate of his history, by proving that his work was reviewed, on the whole, rather in a friendly and laudatory manner. Harte, however, was so far from being a martyr, either to the justice or injustice of criticism, that he prepared a second

edition of the "Life of Gustavus" for the press; and announced, in a note, that he had finished the "History of the thirty years War in Germany." His servant Dore, afterwards an innkeeper at Bath, got possession of his MSS. and this work is supposed to be irrecoverably lost. In the mean time, he was struck with a palsy in 1766, which attacked him again in 1769, and put a period to his life, five years after. At the time of his death he was vicar of St. Austel and Blazy, in Cornwall.

His poetry is little read; and I am aware of hazarding the appearance of no great elegance of taste, in professing myself amused and interested by several parts of it, particularly by his "Amaranth." In spite of pedantry and grotesqueness, he appears, in numerous passages, to have condensed the reflection and information of no ordinary mind. If the reader dislikes his story of " Eulogius," I have only to inform him, that I have taken some pains to prevent its being more prolix than is absolutely necessary, by the mechanical reduction of its superfluities.

EULOGIUS: OR, THE CHARITABLE MASON.

FROM THE GREEK OF PAULUS SYLLOGUS.

In ancient times, scarce talk'd of, and less known,
When pious Justin fill'd the eastern throne,
In a small dorp, till then for nothing fam'd,
And by the neighb'ring swains Thebaïs nam'd,

Eulogius liv'd: an humble mason he;
In nothing rich, but virtuous poverty.
From noise and riot he devoutly kept,

Sigh'd with the sick, and with the mourner wept;
Half his earn'd pittance to poor neighbours went;
They had his alms, and he had his content.
Still from his little he could something spare
To feed the hungry, and to clothe the bare.
He gave, whilst aught he had, and knew no bounds;
The poor man's drachma stood for rich men's pounds;
He learnt with patience, and with meekness taught,
His life was but the comment of his thought.

*

On the south aspect of a sloping hill,
Whose skirts meand'ring Penus washes still,
Our pious lab'rer pass'd his youthful days
In peace and charity, in pray'r and praise.
No theatres or oaks around him rise,

Whose roots earth's centre touch, whose head the

skies;

No stately larch-tree there expands a shade

O'er half a rood of Larissćan glade:

No lofty poplars catch the murm❜ring breeze,

Which loit'ring whispers on the cloud-capp'd trees;
Such imag'ry of greatness ill became

A nameless dwelling, and an unknown name!
Instead of forest-monarchs, and their train,
The unambitious rose bedeck'd the plain;

On skirting heights thick stood the clust'ring vine,
And here and there the sweet-leav'd eglantine;

One lilac only, with a statelier grace,

Presum❜d to claim the oak's and cedar's place,
And, looking round him with a monarch's care,
Spread his exalted boughs to wave in air.

This spot, for dwelling fit, Eulogius chose,
And in a month a decent home-stall rose,
Something, between a cottage and a cell-
Yet virtue here could sleep, and peace could dwell.
From living stone (but not of Parian rocks),
He chipp'd his pavement, and he squar'd his blocks:
And then, without the aid of neighbours' art,
Perform'd the carpenter's and glazier's part.
The site was neither granted him, nor giv'n;
'Twas nature's; and the ground-rent due to heav'n.
Wife he had none: nor had he love to spare ;
An aged mother wanted all his care.

They thank'd their Maker for a pittance sent,
Supp'd on a turnip, slept upon content.

Four rooms, above, below, this mansion grac'd,
With white-wash deckt, and river-sand o'ercast:
The first, (forgive my verse if too diffuse,)
Perform'd the kitchen's and the parlour's use:
The second, better bolted and immur'd,
From wolves his out-door family secur❜d:
(For he had twice three kids, besides their dams;
A cow, a spaniel, and two fav'rite lambs :)
A third, with herbs perfum'd, and rushes spread,
Held, for his mother's use, a feather'd bed:
Two moss-matrasses in the fourth were shown;
One for himself, for friends and pilgrims one.

No flesh from market-towns our peasant sought; He rear'd his frugal meat, but never bought: A kid sometimes for festivals he slew;

The choicer part was his sick neighbour's due:
Two bacon-flitches made his Sunday's cheer;
Some the poor had, and some out-liv'd the year:
For roots and herbage, (rais'd at hours to spare),
With humble milk, compos'd his usual fare.
(The poor man then was rich, and liv'd with
glee;

Each barley-head untaxt, and daylight free :)
All had a part in all the rest could spare,

The common water, and the common air.

Meanwhile God's blessings made Eulogius thrive, The happiest, most contented man alive.

His conscience cheer'd him with a life well spent,
His prudence a superfluous something lent,
Which made the poor who took, and poor who gave,

content.

Alternate were his labours and his rest,
For ever blessing, and for ever blest.

Eusebius, hermit of a neighb'ring cell,
His brother Christian mark'd, and knew him well:
With zeal unenvying, and with transport fir'd,
Beheld him, prais'd him, lov'd him, and admir'd.
"Then hear me, gracious Heav'n, and grant my

pray'r;

"Make yonder man the fav'rite of thy care:
"Nourish the plant with thy celestial dew,
"Like manna let it fall, and still be new: