pity, and famed for excellences too transcendent for imitation. Sometimes, however, it happens, that common topics of encomium are touched with so masterly a hand, that they charm with an irresistible grace, and have all the force of novelty. For a panegyrist to declare, that a lady is deserving of the highest praise-that she is as beautiful as an angel—and that she is remarkable for uniform piety -seems as if he could not strike out of the beaten track. But surely it is out of the power of a vulgar bard to portray such ideas in the following manuer: On Lady Catherine Paston, Paston Church, Norfolk, 1628. Can man be silent, and not praises find For her who lived the praise of woman-kind? That her whole life was a communion-daye. As my publication will be extended only to those epitaphs which are really inscribed on tomb-stones, the ludicrous and the gay will of course be omitted. Let him whose inclination may lead him to peruse such, be referred to magazines and jest-books. He will there find that Epigram, Pun, Satire, and Burlesque, have attempted to throw a gleam of levity upon a subject which is too awful to be made ridiculous. Wit and Humour never more mistake their object, than when they aim their shafts at man in a state of dissolution. But, however wanton and injudicious their sallies have been, they have never profaned the sanctity of Christian temples by affixing their productions to them. Such an indecorum militates too strongly against piety and sensibility to be tolerated with patience. To sport with the characters of the departed is a sufficient triumph for gaiety, without being permitted to erect a trophy over their graves. The perusal of epitaphs is not to be considered as a frivolous and light amusement. If such only be the objects of attention as have been noticed with our applause, it is unquestionably an introduction to pleasing knowledge, and an incentive to moral improvement. What biography is to history, an epitaph is to biography. It is a sketch which marks the great outlines of character, and excites curiosity to view the portraits as painted on the pages of history. It is likewise an epitome of a sermon, which teaches the most useful truths in the most concise form. Monumental inscriptions remind us, that time is on the wing,-that every rank and age must fall a prey to his depredations,that the moments of life are too precious to be squandered away on trifles,-that religion is the only support against the fears and the pain of death, and the only guide to the joys of eternity. Q. KETT. No. XL. SATURDAY, DECEMBER 15, 1787. Carpimus indecores joculari carmine mores. FOR the substance of this paper, I have ventured to make an extract from a very pleasant and witty Latin author, who wrote about two hundred and thirty years ago. To which I have subjoined what may be more properly called a paraphrase than a translation. The book I allude to is entitled, De Morum Simplicitate, auctore Frederico Dedekindo, a poem, in three books. The author was a German, and his work, I believe, gave rise to that species of humour, of which Swift showed himself completely master, in his "Advice to Servants," and which has been since imitated in publications of very modern date; -particularly in "Advice to Officers," and the "Facetious Hints of Geoffrey Gambado, Esq." I know not that Swift has any where mentioned this author, though his works contain many passages which incline me to believe he had perused him with considerable attention. I have extracted the first chapter of his first book, in order to give some specimen of that style, whose origin has been attributed to various writers, in various times and countries, some giving it to Rabelais, and others to Cervantes. Dedekindus appears, from his preface and conclusion, to have been a man of great sense and re fined manners. That he has fallen into obscurity, is, perhaps, to be attributed to the few copies of his works of which the world is in possession. His versification has the ease and elegance of Ovid. Every critic will discover that he has not the purity of the Augustan age; yet every one will read him with pleasure, who is not too fastidious to be easily pleased. Since I read his book, and rendered the sentiments, as near as I could, of the first chapter, into English, I have discovered, that the work has been translated by a Mr. Bull, in 1739, and dedicated, very properly, to Dean Swift, who first (as the translator says) introduced into these kingdoms of Great Britain and Ireland an ironical manner of writing, to the discouragement of vice, ill-manners, and folly, and the promotion of virtue, good-manners, and good sense. The original contains an apology at the beginning, and another at the end, for the indelicacy into which the author is unavoidably led. - The fidus interpres lived at a time when such a kind of wit met with a patron in almost every reader. He seems rather to have laboured in expressing fully every gross idea which ought to have been softened, or might have been omitted without injuring the work. The preface and conclusion are improperly passed over without any notice by the translator. Upon the whole, the fate of the translation (which is at present almost totally unknown) is not to be lamented. The author of the following version will be amply rewarded for his pains, if he can be in the smallest degree instrumental in bringing forward the original into that notice which it manifestly merits. Quæ modestia servanda sit mane in vestitu, capillis, facie, et dentibus mundandis. Quisquis habes odio rigidi præcepta magistri, I. Fulcra soporiferi cum liqueris alta cubilis, Mane salutandi sit tibi cura tuos. Non homini cuiquam felicia fata preceris, |