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Of intellectual being, till it mix

With atoms vague, corruptible and dark;

Nor even then, though sunk in earthly dross,

in the letter to Menaceus, are rational, amiable, and consistent with our nature. M. de Sablons, in his Grands Hommes vengés, expresses strong indignation against the Encyclopédistes for their just and animated praises of Epicurus, and discussing the question, "si ce philosophe étoit vertueux," he denies it upon no other authority than the calumnies collected by Plutarch, who himself confesses that, on this particular subject, he consulted only opinion and report, without pausing to investigate their truth. Αλλα την δοξαν, ου την αλήθειαν σκοπουμεν. Το the factious zeal of his illiberal rivals the Stoics, Epicurus owed these gross misrepresentations of the life and opinions of himself and his associates, which, notwithstanding the learned exertions of Gassendi, have still left an odium on the name of his philosophy; and we ought to examine the ancient accounts of Epicurus with the same degree of cautious belief which, in reading ecclesiastical history, we yield to the declamations of the fathers against the heretics, trusting as little to Plutarch upon a dogma of this philosopher, as we would to St. Cyril upon a tenet of Nestorius. (1801.)

The preceding remarks, I wish the reader to observe, were written at a time, when I thought the studies to which they refer much more important and much more amusing than, I freely confess, they appear to me at present.

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• Lactantius asserts that all the truths of Christianity may be found dispersed through the ancient philosophical sects, and that any one who would collect these scattered fragments of orthodoxy, might form a code in no respect differing from that of the Christian. "Si extitisset aliquis, qui veritatem sparsam per singulos per sectasque diffusam colligeret in unum, ac redigeret in corpus, is profecto non dissentiret a nobis." Inst. Lib. vi. c. 7.

* Το μόνον και ερημον..

Corrupted all, nor its ethereal touch
Quite lost, but tasting of the fountain still!
As some bright river, which has roll'd along
Through meads of flowery light and mines of gold,
When pour'd at length into the dusky deep,
Disdains to mingle with its briny taint,

But keeps awhile the pure and golden tinge,
The balmy freshness of the fields it left 1o!

And here the old man ceased—a winged train
Of nymphs and genii led him from our eyes.
The fair illusion fled! and, as I wak'd,
I knew my visionary soul had been
Among that people of aerial Dreams
Who live upon the burning galaxy"!

10 This fine Platonic image I have taken from a passage in Father Bouchet's letter upon the Metempsychosis, inserted in Picart's Cérém. Relig. Tom. IV.

11

" According to Pythagoras, the people of Dreams are souls collected together in the Galaxy. Δημος δε ονειρων, κατα Πυθαγοραν, &ι ψυχαι ὡς συναγέσθαι ás Onσiv Eis tov yaλažiav. Porphyr. de Antro Nymph.

ΤΟ

THE world had just begun to steal
Each hope, that led me lightly on,
I felt not, as I us'd to feel,

And life grew dark and love was gone!

No eye to mingle sorrow's tear,

No lip to mingle pleasure's breath, No tongue to call me kind and dear— 'Twas gloomy, and I wish'd for death!

But when I saw that gentle eye,

Oh! something seem'd to tell me then, That I was yet too young to die,

And hope and bliss might bloom again!

With every beamy smile, that crost
Your kindling cheek, you lighted home
Some feeling, which my heart had lost,

And peace, which long had learn'd to roam!

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"Twas then indeed so sweet to live, Hope look'd so new and love so kind, That, though I weep, I still forgive

The ruin, which they've left behind!

I could have lov'd you-oh so well!
The dream, that wishing boy-hood knows,
Is but a bright, beguiling spell,

Which only lives, while passion glows:

But, when this early flush declines,
When the heart's vivid morning fleets,
You know not then how close it twines
Round the first kindred soul it meets!

Yes, yes,

I could have lov'd, as one

Who, while his youth's enchantments fall,

Finds something dear to rest upon,

Which pays him for the loss of all!

*

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That souls are oft taking the air,

And paying each other a visit,

While bodies are-Heaven knows where?

Last night, 'tis in vain to deny it,

Your Soul took a fancy to roam,

For I heard her, on tiptoe so quiet,
Come ask, whether mine was at home.

And mine let her in with delight,

And they talk'd and they kist the time through, For, when souls come together at night,

There is no knowing what they mayn't do!

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