sophical, but an eminently moral and religious one, has, from this view of his subject, deduced the most instructive lesson: Behold, fond Man! See here thy pictured life; pass some few years, And pale concluding Winter comes at last, The melancholy poet of the Night too, adducing the revolutions of Nature as evidences of the immortality of man, exhibits the following beautiful and instructive picture of the seasons: Look Nature through, 'tis revolution all; No. XIX. ON SLEEP. Somnus avaris, Inserpit curis, pronusque per aëra nutat, STATIUS. Sleep steals away POPE, MANKIND, without having recourse to extraordinary events, must acknowledge the wisdom and omnipotence of God, in a variety of instances which, to an inattentive observer, seem of small importance. The most common occurrences, the daily revolutions in nature and in our own bodies, are alone sufficient to enforce the strongest conviction that the world was created by an infinitely wise, powerful, and benevolent Being, who never ceases to govern and superintend the whole. Of the infinite variety of wonders of which He is the author, one alone shall be the subject of my present discussion; and, although it occurs every day, it does not the less merit to be observed, and to be the object of admiration. If every day did not produce fresh instances of the ingratitude of mankind, we might, perhaps, be at a loss to know, why so liberal and impartial a bene factor as Sleep, should meet with so few historians or panegyrists. Writers, in general, are so totally absorbed by the business of the day, as never to turn their attention to that power, whose officious hand so seasonably suspends the burden of life; and with out whose interposition man would not be able to VOL. L. K endure the fatigue of the most beneficial labour, or the struggles of the most successful opposition. The poets, however, among all those that enjoy the blessings of sleep, seem to be exempted from this censure. How much Statius considered the evils of life as assuaged and softened by the balm of slumber, we may discover by the pathetic invocation which he poured forth in his waking nights. Virgil and Milton call Sleep the gift of Heaven. Ovid has deified Sleep, and having given a beautiful description of his house, makes Iris, the messenger of Juno, thus address him: Somne, quies rerum, placidissime Somne Deorum, &c. O sacred Rest, LIB. XI. Sweet pleasing Sleep, of all the powers the best! DRYDEN. } Statius has likewise given a description of the House of Sleep; but Ariosto has not merely improved, but surpassed them both. Ovid, in particular, says there is no porter at the door; Custos in limine nullus. But Ariosto has greatly enriched the picture, by placing Oblivion and Silence as centinels before it. Sotto la nera selva una capace E spaziosa grotta entra nel sasso: Lo smemorato Oblio stà sù la porta; Il Silenzio va intorno, e fa la scorta; Che non debban venir, cenna con mano. My readers will be pleased, perhaps, with some more poetical eulogies of Sleep : O sweet refreshing Sleep! thou balmy cure Of sickness and of pain! How has thy gentle power at length relieved me! How grateful to th' afflicted are thy charms! EURIP. BY HUGHES. Sleep, that knits up the ravelled sleeve of Care, SHAKSPEARE. Thou silent power, whose welcome sway i Charms every anxious thought away; : In whose divine oblivion drowned, Love is with kinder looks beguiled, And Grief forgets her fondly cherished wound; AKENSIDE. Haste, haste, sweet stranger! From the peasant's cot, Which asks such frequent periods of repair. YOUNG. 5 And Casa, in one of his sonnets, with the usual Italian assemblage of epithets, has this apostrophe: O Sonno, O della quieta, umida, ombrosa O Sleep, sweet son of the peaceful, humid, umbrageous night! In a word, to conclude, these instances of homage in the poets to 'the downy god,' Cowley, among the other felicities of his darling solitude, has not forgotten to number the privilege of sleeping without disturbance; and, among the gifts of Nature, he assigns a rank to the poppy, 'which is scattered (says he) over the fields of corn, that all the needs of man may be easily satisfied, and that bread and sleep may be found together'.' How wonderful is it that a thinking being, who, in every diurnal revolution, experiences the sweet and invigorating refreshment of sleep, should never once reflect on his situation in those moments of temporary insensibility; or, at least, that he should never consider it as one of the most remarkable effects of the Divine Goodness! We have no ideas of any thing extraordinary, when sleep spreads its soft and benevolent influence over us. We are content to imagine, that this machine, our body, is He wildly errs who thinks I yield Tho' mixed with wheat I grow; Nor vainly gay the sight to please, Seize happy mortal, seize the good; And leave to fate the rest,' Adventurer, No, 39. |