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"throngs of people no sooner broke through the cloud, but 66 many of them fell into them. They grew thinner towards "the middle, but multiplied 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 "structure, and the great variety of objects which it presented. "My heart was filled with a deep melancholy to see several "dropping unexpectedly in the midst of mirth and jollity, and "catching at every thing that stood by them to save themselves. "Some were looking up towards the Heavens in a thoughtful "posture, and in the midst of a Speculation stumbled and fell "out of sight. Multitudes were very busy in the pursuit of '[bubbles]1 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 Scymetars "in their hands, and others with Urinals, who ran to and fro "upon the bridge, thrusting several persons on trap-doors "which did not seem to lie in their way, and which they might "have escaped, had they not been thus forced upon them.

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"The Genius seeing me indulge my self 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 not comprehend. Upon looking up, "What mean, said I, those great flights of birds that are 30 "perpetually hovering about the bridge, and settling upon it "from time to time? I see vultures, harpyes, ravens, cormo66 rants; and among many other feathered creatures several "little winged boys, that perch in great numbers upon the

1 So S and C; T has "bubles."

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"middle arches. These, said the Genius, are envy, avarice, superstition, despair, love, with the like cares and passions "that infest humane life.

"I here fetched a deep sigh; Alas, said I, man was made "in vain! How is he given away to misery and mortality! 5 "tortured in life, and swallowed up in death! The Genius

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being moved with compassion 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 IO "the tide bears the several generations of mortals that fall "into it. I directed my sight as I was ordered, and (whether "or no the good Genius strengthened it with any supernatural "force, or dissipated part of the mist that was before too thick "for the eye to penetrate) I saw the valley opening at the fur"ther 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 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 shin"ing seas that ran among them. I could see persons dressed "in glorious habits with garlands upon their heads, passing 66 among the trees, lying down by the sides of fountains, or "resting on beds of flowers; and could hear a confused har

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mony of singing birds, falling waters, humane voices, and "musical instruments. Gladness grew in me upon the discovery of so delightful a scene. I wished for the wings of "an eagle, that I might fly away to those happy seats; but 30 "the Genius told me there was no passage to them, except

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through the gates of Death that I saw opening 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

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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 behind those which thou here discoverest, reach"ing further than thine eye or even thine imagination can "extend it self. 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 accom❝modated to its respective inhabitants. Are not these, O "Mirza, habitations worth contending for? Does life appear "miserable, that gives thee opportunities of earning such a "reward? Is death to be feared, that will convey thee to so 15 "happy an existence? Think not man was made in vain, who "has such an Eternity reserved for him. I gazed with inex"pressible pleasure on these happy Islands. At length said "I, shew me now, I beseech thee, the secrets that lye hid "under those dark clouds which cover the ocean on the other "side of the rock of Adamant. The Genius making me no “answer, I turned about to address my self 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, "with oxen, sheep, and camels, grazing upon the sides of it.

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The end of the first vision of Mirzah.

N° 253. Thursday, December 20. [1711.]

Indignor quicquam reprehendi, non quia crasse

Compositum, illepideve putetur, sed quia nuper. Hor.

There is nothing which more denotes a great mind, than the abhorrence of envy and detraction. This passion reigns more among bad Poets, than among any other set of men.

As there are none more ambitious of fame, than those who are conversant in Poetry, it is very natural for such as have not succeeded in it, to depreciate the works of those who have. For since they cannot raise themselves to the reputation of their fellow-writers, they must endeavour to sink it to their own pitch, if they would still keep themselves upon a level with them.

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The greatest wits that ever were produced in one age, lived together in so good an understanding, and celebrated one another with so much generosity, that each of them receives an additional lustre from his contemporaries, and is more famous for having lived with men of so extraordinary a genius, 15 than if he had himself been the sole wonder of the age. I need not tell my Reader, that I here point at the reign of Augustus, and I believe he will be of my opinion, that neither Virgil nor Horace would have gained so great a reputation in the world, had they not been the friends and admirers of each 20 other. Indeed all the great writers of that age, for whom singly we have so great an esteem, stand up together as vouchers for one another's reputation. But at the same time that Virgil was celebrated by Gallus, Propertius, Horace, Varius, Tucca and Ovid, we know that Bavius and Mævius were his declared 25 foes and calumniators.

In our own country a man seldom sets up for a Poet, without attacking the reputation of all his brothers in the art. The ignorance of the moderns, the scriblers of the age, the

decay of Poetry, are the topicks of detraction, with which he makes his entrance into the world: But how much more noble is the fame that is built on candour and ingenuity, according to those beautiful lines of Sir John Denham, in his poem on 5 Fletcher's works!

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But whither am I straid? I need not raise
Trophies to thee from other mens dispraise;
Nor is thy fame on lesser ruins built,
Nor needs thy juster title the foul guilt

Of eastern Kings, who to secure their reign

Must have their brothers, sons, and kindred slain.

I am sorry to find that an Author, who is very justly esteemed among the best judges, has admitted some strokes of this nature into a very fine poem, I mean The Art of Criticism, which was 15 published some months since, and is a Master-piece in its kind. The observations follow one another like those in Horace's Art of Poetry, without that methodical regularity which would have been requisite in a Prose author. They are some of them uncommon, but such as the Reader must assent to, when he 20 sees them explained with that elegance and perspecuity in which they are delivered. As for those which are the most known, and the most received, they are placed in so beautiful a light, and illustrated with such apt allusions, that they have in them all the graces of novelty, and make the Reader, who was before acquainted with them, still more convinced of their truth and solidity. And here give me leave to mention what Monsieur Boileau has so very well enlarged upon in the preface to his works, that wit and fine writing doth not consist so much in advancing things that are new, as in giving things 30 that are known an agreeable turn. It is impossible for us, who live in the latter Ages of the world, to make observations in criticism, morality, or in any art or science, which have not been touched upon by others. We have little else left

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