POPE'S "RAPE OF THE LOCK."

THE "Rape of the Lock," the most airy, the most ingenious, the most delightful, of all Pope's compositions," (says Dr. Johnson,) was occasioned by a frolic of gallantry rather too familiar, in which, when they were out in company with a party, Lord Petre cut off a lock of the Honorable Mrs. Arabella Fermor's hair. This act of gallantry was rather intended as a compliment, but was so much resented, that the commerce of the two families, both very friendly, was interrupted. Mr. Caryl solicited Pope to effect a reconciliation by a ludicrous poem, which might bring both parties to a better understanding. In compliance with the request of that gentleman, (though his name was only marked for a long time with the first and last letters, C-L,) a poem of two cantos was written [1711], as it is said, in a fortnight, and sent to the offended lady, who liked it well enough to shew it; and, with the usual process of literary transactions, the author, dreading a surreptitious edition, was forced to publish it. The event is said to have been such as was desired-the pacification and diversion of all to whom it related.

RAPIN

was a poet and a provost-marshal, two characters not often united in the same person. He told the Monks who attended him in his last moments, that the only good action which he had to congratulate himself upon in his younger days was, his persecuting the contagion of Atheism in Paris. He said, "that about the year 1580, there came to Paris a foreigner of a subtle and factious spirit, who, having made himself acquainted with the celebrated wits of that city, (of whom Ronsard, the poet, was the chief,) began to publish his pernicious and abominable maxims against the Deity, which had already staggered the minds of some of them. I soon afterwards caused him to be hung and burnt by a decree of the Parliament of Paris. Ronsard, at last, came over to my opinion, and wrote his poem against the Atheists, which begins, O ciel, O terre, O Dieu, Père commun.' "Had it not been for us, France, perhaps, would have been a sink of Atheists to this day."

esteemed by the late Sir William Jones, who was an excellent critic.

Ronsard was called, by the princes and wits of his time, "The French Poet," by way of eminence; so that with less vanity he might say that he was born in the year in which Francis the First was taken prisoner at the battle of Pavia-" that Heaven appeared, by that circumstance, inclined to make France some amends for its loss on that day." Like all persons who are distinguished by the attention of the public, he had his friends and his enemies. Among the latter, of Rabelais he was the most afraid, who, when they met together, never failed to ridicule him. This, Ronsard took care should happen but seldom, by obtaining information, whenever he was invited to a party, whether Rabelais would be among the number. It is said, that Voltaire took the same precaution with regard to Piron, the Epigrammatist. With what proper contempt Ronsard treated a scandalous imputation upon his moral and religious character, the following letter to his friend Passerat will evince.

"1556.-Since I wrote to you, my dear friend, Lambin has supped with me, and has shewn me

your Latin letter, in which I observed how the good Huguenots of Bourges (for they can be no other persons) have spread a report about the town that Lambin said publicly in the pulpit, That now the world was delivered from three Atheists, Moret, Ronsard, and Gouveau.' I have, indeed, acquired nothing by this news but the honour of having my name joined to that of those gentlemen, the latchet of whose shoes I am not worthy to loosen. I can only wish, that whenever people choose to calumniate me, they would do it in the same manner; and I should ever esteem myself happy to be able to equal the virtue, the learning, the integrity, of those two great men, and even of Moret, whom I have ever known to be a man of honour. I do not indeed know, whether M. Lambin said this or not. It is a matter of no consequence; and on the strength of it, I intend to go to-morrow to the Three Fish,' to drink myself into your good graces; recommending myself, with all my heart, to your indulgent Muses."

GARTH'S LAST ILLNESS.

WHEN Dr. Garth had been for a good while in a bad state of health, he sent, one day, for a

physician, with whom he was particularly intimate, and conjured him to tell him sincerely, whether he thought he should be ever able to get rid of his illness or not. His friend, thus conjured, told him, "that he thought he might struggle on with it, perhaps for some years, but that he much feared he could never get the better of it entirely." Dr. Garth thanked him for dealing so fairly with him, turned the discourse to other things, and talked all the rest of the time he staid with him. As soon as he was gone, he called for his servant, said he was a good deal out of order, and would go to bed: he then sent for a surgeon to bleed him. Soon after, he sent for a second surgeon, by a different servant, and was bled in the other arm. then said he wanted rest; and when every body had quitted the room, he took off the bandages, and lay down with the design of bleeding to death. His loss of blood made him faint away, and that stopped the bleeding: he afterwards sunk into a sound sleep, slept all the night, waked in the morning without his usual pains, and said, "if it would continue so, he could be content to live on." In his last illness, he did

He