my death, which my bad state of health makes me expect every month. I have the ambition, and it is very earnest as well as in haste, to have one Epistle inscribed to me while I am alive, and you just in the time when wit and wisdom are in the height. I must once more repeat Cicero's desire to a friend; Orna me. A month ago were sent me over by a friend of mine, the works of John Hughes, Esq. They are in verse and prose. I never heard of the man in my life, yet I find your name as a subscriber too. He is too grave a poet for me, and, I think, among the mediocribus in prose, as well as verse. I have the honour to know Dr. Rundle; he is indeed worth all the rest you ever sent us, but that is saying nothing, for he answers your character; I have dined thrice in his company. He brought over a worthy clergyman of this kingdom as his chaplain, which was a very wise and popular action. His only fault is, that he drinks no wine, and I drink nothing else.

This kingdom is now absolutely starving, by the means of every oppression that can be inflicted on mankind. Shall I not visit for these things? saith the Lord. You advise me right, not to trouble myself about the world: but oppression tortures me, and I cannot live without meat and drink, nor get either without money; and money is not to be had, except they will make me a bishop, or a judge, or a colonel, or a commissioner of the revenues.

Adieu.

LETTER CXLIX.

MR. POPE TO DR. SWIFT.

To answer your question as to Mr. Hughes, what he wanted as to genius he made up as an honest man: but he was of the class you think him.*

I am glad you think of Dr. Rundle as I do. He will be an honour to the bishops, and a disgrace to one bishop, two things you will like; but what you will like more particularly, he will be a friend and benefactor even to your un-friended, un-benefited nation: he will be a friend to the human race, wherever he goes. Pray tell him my best wishes for his health and long life: I wish you and he came over together, or that I were with you. I never saw a man so seldom whom I liked so much as Dr. Rundle.†

Lord Peterborough I went to take a last leave

* But was the author of such a tragedy as the Siege of Damascus one of the mediocribus? Swift and Pope seem not to recollect the value and the rank of an author who could write such a tragedy. May I venture, on this occasion, to give a little table of the different sorts of poets, ranged in order according to their merits?— Writers of occasional and miscellaneous Family-things, and tea-table Miscellanies; writers of Pastorals; of Epistles; of Satires; of didactic Poems; of Odes; of Tragedies; of Epic Poems. Warton.

This is not arranging authors according to their merits, but according to the subjects they write upon, with which their merits have no concern.

On this account he is celebrated by Pope:

of, at his setting sail for Lisbon: no body can be more wasted, no soul can be more alive. Immediately after the severest operation of being cut into the bladder for a suppression of urine, he took coach, and got from Bristol to Southampton. This is a man that will neither live nor die like any other mortal.

Poor Lord Peterborough! there is another string lost, that would have helped to draw you hither!* He ordered on his death-bed his watch to be given me (that which had accompanied him in all his travels) with this reason, "That I might have something to put me every day in mind of him." It was a present to him from the King of Sicily, whose arms and Insignia are graved on the innercase; on the outer, I have put this inscription: Victor Amadeus, Rex Siciliæ, Dux Sabaudiæ, &c. &c. Carolo Mordaunt, Comiti de Peterborough, D. D. Car. Mor. Com. de Pet. Alexandro Pope moriens legavit, 1735.

Pray write to me a little oftener: and if there be a thing left in the world that pleases you, tell it one who will partake of it. I hear with approbation and pleasure, that your present care is to relieve the most helpless of this world, those objects+ which most want our compassion, though generally made the scorn of their fellow-creatures, such

* This letter, without a date, seems to have been written at two different periods, and we must suppose that in the interval Pope had received an account of the death of Lord Peterborough. + Idiots. Warburton.

as are less innocent than they. You always think generously; and of all charities, this is the most disinterested, and least vain-glorious, done to such as never will thank you, or can praise you for it.

God bless you with ease, if not with pleasure; with a tolerable state of health, if not with its full enjoyment; with a resigned temper of mind, if not a very cheerful one. It is upon these terms I live myself, though younger than you, and I repine not at my lot, could but the presence of a few that I love be added to these. Adieu.

LETTER CL.

DR. SWIFT TO MR. POPE.

October 21, 1735.

I ANSWERED your letter relating to Curll,* &c. I believe my letters have escaped being published, because I writ nothing but nature and friendship, and particular incidents which could make no figure in writing. I have observed, that not only Voiture, but likewise Tully and Pliny writ their letters for the public view, more than for the sake of their correspondents; and I am glad of it, on account of the entertainment they have given me. Balsac did the same thing, but with more stiffness, and consequently less diverting. Now I must tell you, that you are to look upon me as one going

* Curll had just published Pope's Letters.

Bowles.

very fast out of the world; but my flesh and bones are to be carried to Holyhead, for I will not lie in a country of slaves. It pleaseth me to find that you begin to dislike things in spite of your philosophy; your Muse cannot forbear her hints to that purpose. I cannot travel to see you; otherwise, I solemnly protest I would do it. I have an intention to pass this winter in the country with a friend forty miles off, and to ride only ten miles a day; yet is my health so uncertain that I fear it will not be in my power. I often ride a dozen miles, but I come to my own bed at night: my best way would be to marry, for in that case any bed would be better than my own. I found you a very young man, and I left you a middle-aged one; you knew me a middle-aged man, and now I am an old one. Where is my Lord ? methinks, I am inquiring after a tulip of last year.--You need not apprehend any Curlls meddling with your letters to me; I will not destroy them, but have ordered my executors to do that office. I have a thousand things more to say; longævitas est garrula; but I must remember I have other letters to write if I have time, which I spend to tell you so. I am ever, dearest Sir,

Your, &c.