me to observe, that because there has been a voluptuous Petronius, a prophane Lucretius, and a licentious Ovid, to say nothing of the numberless modern poets, or rather individual poems, that are immoral and corrupt-shall we therefore exclude all works of imagination from the library of a young man? Surely we should not indiscriminately banish the Muses, as infallible corruptors of the youthful mind; I would rather consider a blameless poet as the auxiliar of virtue. Whatever talent enables a writer to possess an empire over the heart, and to lead the pas-sions at his command, puts it in his power to be of no small service to mankind. It is no new remark that the abuse of any good thing is no argument against its legitimate use. Intoxication affords no just reason against the use of wine, nor prodigality against the possession of wealth. In the instance in dispute I should rather infer that a talent capable of diffusing so much mischief, was susceptible of no small benefit.

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benefit. That it has been so often abused by its misapplication, is one of the highest instances of the ingratitude of man for one of the highest gifts of God."

"I cannot think," said I, "that the Almighty conferred such a faculty with a wish to have it extinguished. Works of imagination have in many countries been a chief instrument of civilization. Poetry has not only preceded science in the history of human progress, but it has in many countries preceded the knowledge of the mechanical arts; and I have somewhere read, that in Scotland they would write elegant Latin verse before they could make a wheel-barrow. For my own part, in my late visit to London I thought the decline of poetry no favourable symptom."

"I rejoice to hear it is declining," said Tyrrel. "I hope that what is decaying, may in time be extinguished."

"Mr. Tyrrel would have been de lighted with what I was displeased," re

plied

plied I. "I met with philosophers, who were like Plato in nothing but in his abhorrence of the Muses; with politicians, who resembled Burleigh only in his enmity to Spenser; and with warriors, who however they might emulate Alexander in his conquests, would never have imitated him in sparing the 'house of Pindarus."

"The art of poetry," said Mr. Stanley, "is to touch the passions, and its duty to lead them on the side of virtue. To raise and to purify the amusements of mankind; to multiply and to exalt pleasures, which being purely intellectual may help to exclude such as are gross, in beings so addicted to sensuality, is surely not only to give pleasure, but to render service. It is allowable to seize every avenue to the heart of a being so prone to evil, to rescue him by every fair means not only from the degradation of vice, but from the dominion of idleness. I do not now speak of gentlemen of the sacred function, to which Mr. Edward Tyrrel aspires, but of those who

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having no profession, have no stated employment; and who having more leisure, will be in danger of exceeding the due bounds in the article of amusement. Let us then endeavour to allure our youth of fashion from the low pleasures of the dissolute; to snatch them, not only from the destruction of the gaming-table, but from the excesses of the dining-table, by invit ing them to an elegant delight that is safe, and especially by enlarging the range of pure mental pleasure.

In order to this, let us do all we can

to cultivate their taste, and innocently indulge their fancy. Let us contend with impure writers, those deadliest enemies to the youthful mind, by opposing to them in the chaster authors, images more attrac ́tive, wit more acute, learning more various; in all which excellencies your first-rate poets certainly excel their vicious competitors."

"Would you, Mr. Tyrrel," said Sir John," throw into the enemy's camp all

all the light arms which often success-. fully annoy where the heavy artillery cannot reach ?

"Let us," replied Mr. Stanley, "rescue from the hands of the profane and the impure, the monopoly of wit which they affect to possess, and which they would possess, if no good men had written works of elegant literature, and if all good men totally despised them."

"For my own part," said Mr. Tyrrel, "I believe that a good man in my sense of the word, will neither write works of imagination, nor read them."

"At your age and mine, and better, employed as we certainly may be," said Mr. Stanley," we want not such resources. I myself, though I strongly retain the lish, have little leisure for the indulgence, which yet I would allow, though with great discrimination, to the young and the unoccupied. What is to whet the genius of the champions of virtue, so as to enable them successfully to combat the leaders of