The adventures of Telemachus, the son of Ulysses translated from the French.

THE ADVENTURES OF TELEMACHUS The Son of ULYSSES. PART. V. (Book 5)

THese two Kings reproach'd one another of Folly and Stupidity: Says one to the other who had been his Son; did not I,

when I was Old, and near my Death, often recommend to your Care the reproach of those Mischeifs which my own negligence had occa∣sion'd? The Son reply'd, O unhap∣py Father! 'Tis you that have ruin'd me; 'twas your Example that habi∣tuated me to Pride, Arrogancy and Cruelty to Mankind. While I saw you Reign in so effeminate a manner, surrounded with servile Parasites; I addicted my self to the Love of Flattery and Pleasures; I thought the rest of Men were in respect of Kings, what other Animals are in regard of Men; I say I thought 'em no better than Beasts, and that no other account was to be made of'em, but only what Service they could render, and what advantage might be expected from 'em. This I be∣lieved, and 'twas you that made me believe it, and now I endure all these Miseries for imitating your Example. To these Reproaches they added the most dreadful Curses, and were

irritated with so much Rage, that they seem'd ready to tear one ano∣ther in Pieces. Besides, round about these Kings, there hover'd (like so many Owls in the Shades of Night) cruel Suspicions, vain Allarms and Diffidences, which revenge Subjects on their Kings for their Severity. The unsatiable thirst of Riches, that false kind of Glory which is always Tyrannical, and vile Effeminacy, which redoubles all the Evils they suffer, without being able to give any true and solid Pleasure. Many of these Kings were severely punish∣ed, not for the Evils they had done, but for neglecting the Good they ought to have done. All the Crimes of the People, which proceed from Negligence in the execution of the Laws, were imputed to their Kings; and on them were all those Disorders charg'd which spring from Pride, Luxury, and all other Excesses which throw Men into a violent State, and tempt 'em to contemn the Laws in

quiring Wealth. Above all, those Kings were treated with extreme Rigour, who instead of acting the part of good and vigilant Shepherds towards the People, thought of no∣thing but how to ravage their Flocks, like so many voracious Wolves. But that which rais'd the Conster∣nation of Telemachus to the highest Degree, was to see in this Abyss of Darkness and Misery, a great number of Kings, who had past upon Earth for tolerably good Princes, now abandon'd to the Pains of Tartarus, for having suffer'd them∣selves to be govern'd by wicked and designing Men. These were punish∣ed for the Evils they had suffer'd to be committed by their Authority. Indeed the greatest part of these Kings were neither Good nor Bad; their Weakness was so great, that they never had been afraid of being kept in Ignorance of the Truth, nor ever had a true relish of Vertue, nor took Pleasure in doing Good.

No sooner was Telemachus got out of these dark Regions, but he felt himself as much eas'd as if one had remov'd a Mountain off his Breast; The sense of this made him compre∣hend the Misery of those that were shut up in this dismal Place, without hope of being ever releas'd. It fill'd him with Horror to observe how many Kings were more rigorously Tormented than other Criminals. What, said he, so many Endea∣vours, so many Dangers, so many Snares, so many Difficulties in com∣ing at the Truth, so as to be able to defend ones self against others, and against ones self, and at last so many horrible Torments in Hell, after such Agitations, such Assaults of Envy, and so many Crosses in a short course of Life! O unthinking Man who is desirous of Reigning! And happy he who limits his De∣sires to a private and peacable man∣ner of Life, wherein 'tis less difficult to be Vertuous. In making these

Reflections his Mind was fill'd with Trouble and Horror, insomuch, that he fell into a kind of Conster∣nation, which made him feel some∣thing of that Despair which racks those miserable Princes whose wretched Condition he had been considering. But in proportion to the degrees of distance he gain'd in retiring from these sad Territories of Darkness, Horror and Despair, his Courage began gradually to re∣vive; he regain'd his Breath as he went forward, and soon was enter∣tain'd with a distant view of the mild and pure Rays of Light that darted from those blessed Regions where the Heroes reside.

Here dwelt all those vertuous Kings, who had prudently govern'd Men till that time. They were se∣parated from other good Men; for as wicked Princes suffer'd Torments in Tartarus, infinitely more violent than those of other Criminals of a low and private Condition; so these

good Kings enjoy a Happiness in Elysium, infinitely exceeding that of the rest of Mankind, who had de∣voted themselves to Vertue, when upon Earth. Towards these Kings Telemachus advanc'd. They were in odoriferous Groves, on Meadows cover'd with immortal Green, and always deck'd with Flowers; a Thousand little Rivulets water'd this happy Place with their limpid Streams, which refresh'd it after a most agreable manner; an infinite number of pretty Birds made these Groves resound with their sweet Har∣mony. Here they see at once the beau∣tiful Flowers of the Spring growing on the Turf, under their Feet; and the pleasant Fruits of Autumn hang∣ing on the Trees, over their Heads. Here the parching Heat of the fu∣rious Dog-star is never felt; here the rough North-Wind never dares to Blow, to make 'em feel the rigours of Winter. Neither War, that thirsts for Blood, nor cruel Envy,

that bites with envenom'd Teeth, having twisted Vipers in her Bosom, and wreath'd about her Arms; nor Jealousies, Distrusts, Fears, nor vain Desires, ever approach this blessed Region of Peace. In this happy Place, the Day nere knows an End; and the Night with her bloomy Vail is utterly a Stranger here. A pure and insinuating Light spreads it self round the Bodies of these just Men, and encompasses you with its Rays like a Garment. 'Tis not like that which illuminates the Eyes of miserable Mortals, which in com∣parison of this is little better than Darkness. 'Tis rather a celestial Glory than Light; for it penetrates the thickest Bodies, after a more subtile manner, than the Beams of the Sun can pierce the purest Cryst∣al: Yet it never Dazzles, but on the contrary, fortifies the Eyes, and produces an unspeakable serenity in the inmost recesses of the Soul. 'Tis this alone that nourishes those blessed

Men, it penetrates 'em, and incor∣porates it self with 'em: They See it, they Feel it, they Breath it; it causes an inexhaustible Fountain of Peace and Joy to spring up in their Souls. In this Abyss of Joy they plunge themselves, and live in it, as Fishes do in the Sea; they 〈◊〉〈◊〉 nothing, they have every thing with∣out having any thing; for the re∣lish of this pure Light appeases the Hunger of their Souls, all their Wishes are satisfied, and their full∣ness raises them above all that which Men with empty and hungry Minds so earnestly seek upon Earth. All the Pleasures that surround 'em, are nothing to 'em, because their con∣summate Happiness which proceeds from within 'em, leaves 'em void of Sensation, for every the most de∣licious Thing they see without 'em. Just as the Gods who are satiated with Nectar and Ambrosia, would disdain to Feed on those gross Meats which would be presented you at

the most exquisite Treat that Mor∣tals could make 'em. All manner of Evils fly far away from this place of Tranquillity. Death, Sickness, Poverty, Pain, Regrets, Remorses, Fears, and Hopes, too (which often cost us as much as our very Fears) 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Imaginations, Disgusts, and Vexations can none of 'em find en∣trance here. The lofty Mountains of Thrace that thrust their Brows (which have been cove'd with Snow and Ice from the very beginning of the World) into the Clouds of Hea∣ven, might sooner be over-turn'd from their Foundation, which is fix'd in the Center of the Earth, than the Hearts of these righteous Men be mov'd in the least degree; only they pity the Inhabitants of this World for the Miseries that oppress 'em, yet 'tis such a sweet and calm kind of Compassion as can't in the least alter their immutable Felicity: An everlasting Youth, an endless Happiness, and a Glory altogether

Divine, is conspicuous in their Coun∣tenances; but their Joy has nothing in it that is frothy and uncomely. 'Tis a noble Alacrity, sweet and full of Majesty. 'Tis a sublime Gust of Truth and Virtue that tran∣sports 'em. They are every mo∣ment, without Interruption, in such, a kind of extasie of Mind, as that which seizes a tender Mother at the sight of her beloved Son, whom af∣ter a long absence she had given over for dead. But this Rapture which soon retires from such a Mother's Heart, never forsakes the Souls of these Men; it never languishes for so much as an Instant, but always continues fresh and new: They have the Transports of Ine∣briation, without the disturbance and folly of it: They entertain one another with Discourses on what they see and taste: They tram∣ple under their Feet the sweet De∣lights, and vain Pomps of their for∣mer Condition, which they in some

sort bewail: They reflect with Plea∣sure on those sad, but short Years, wherein they were oblig'd to op∣pose their own Inclinations; and to stemm the impetuous Torrent of the Persuasions of corrupt Men, to be∣come Virtuous: They admire the Assistance which was given 'em by the Gods, who conducted 'em, as it were, by the Hand in the Paths of Virtue, through a multitude of Perils. There is something Divine, which I know not how to express, that runs incessantly through their Hearts like a Stream of the Divine Nature it self, and unites it self to 'em; they see, they taste, they are happy, and feel; they shall always be so; they all sing together the Praises of the Gods, and all of 'em together make but one Voice, but one Thought, but one Heart, but one Felicity, which constantly ebbs and flows, as it were, in these unit∣ed Souls. While they enjoy these Divine Raptures, whole Ages glide

away more swiftly than Hours do among Mortals here on Earth; and yet a thousand and a thousand Ages when elaps'd, don't in the least di∣minish their Happiness, which is al∣ways new, and always entire. They all Reign together; not on such Thrones as may be over-turn'd by the Hands of Men, but in them∣selves, with a Power that can never be shaken. For now they have no more need to render themselves for∣midable by a Power borrow'd from a vile and miserable People; they no more wear those vain Diadems, under whose darling Lustre so ma∣ny Fears and melancholy Cares lie hid. The Gods themselves have with their own Hands plac'd Crowns of Glory on their Heads, the beau∣ty of which nothing can ever Tar∣nish.

Telemachus, who was seeking his Father, and was once afraid of find∣ing him in these Regions, was so ravish'd with this Tast he had of

Peace, Joy, and Happiness, that he could have wish'd to have met him here; and could not chuse but be troubled to think of being constrain'd himself to return again into the So∣ciety of Mortals. This is the Place, said he, where true Life is to be found, and as for ours 'tis but a kind of Death: But that which surpriz'd him with wonder was, that he had seen so many Kings punish'd in Tar∣tarus, and so few in the Elysian Fields: He learn'd from this, that there are few Kings whose Minds are firm and couragious enough, to resist their own Power, and to re∣ject the Flattery of so many Persons, who make it their Business to excite all their Passions; so that good Kings must needs be very rare; and the greatest part of 'em are so wicked, that the Gods would not be Just, if after having suffer'd them to abuse their Power during their Life, they should not punish them severely af∣ter their Death.

Telemachus not finding his Father Ulysses among these Kings, cast his Eyes about to seek at least the Di∣vine Laertes his Grand-father. While he was looking round for him, in vain, an old Man, venerable, and full of Majesty, advanc'd toward him. His old Age did not resem∣ble that of Men on Earth, when op∣press'd with the weight of numerous Years; it only signify'd that he had been old before his death; it was a mixture of all the Gravity of old Age, with all the Graces of Youth; for those Graces revive even in the most decrepid old Men at the very moment of their entrance into the Elysian Fields. This Person ad∣vanc'd with speed, and look'd up∣on Telemachus with Complacency, as one that was very dear to him. Telemachus, who did not know him, was in pain, and his Thoughts held him in suspense: I forgive thee, O my Son, said the old Man, that thou doest not know me, I am Arcesius,

the Father of Laertes; I finish'd my Days a little before Ulysses my Grand∣son went to the Siege of Troy, and thou wa'st then a little Infant in thy Nurse's Arms. I even then con∣ceiv'd great hopes of thee, and thou hast not disappointed my Expecta∣tion; since I see thou art come down into the Kingdom of Pluto to seek thy Father, and yet the Gods sup∣port thee in this Enterprize. O happy Child, thou art belov'd of the Gods, who prepares for thee a Glo∣ry like that of thy Father! And O how happy am I to see thee again! Leave off looking after thy Father Ulysses in these Regions; he is yet alive; he is reserv'd to advance our Family in the Isle of Ithaca; and Laertes himself, tho' he stoops un∣der 〈◊〉〈◊〉 burden of Age, yet sees the Light, and lives in hope to see his Son return to close his Eyes: Thus Men sade away like Flowers, which in the Morning blow and display their Beauty, and in the Evening

are wither'd and trampled under Foot. The Generations of Mortals slide away like the Waters of a ra∣pid River; and nothing can stop the Course of Time, which draws after it even those things that seem the most immoveable. Thy self, O my dear Son, my dear Son, thy self, who now enjoy'st a Youth so vigo∣rous and capable of Pleasures, thou wilt do well to remember that this gay part of thy Age is but a Flower that will be almost as soon wither'd as blown; thou wilt see thy self in∣sensibly change; these smiling Gra∣ces, and sweet Pleasures, this Strength, Health, and Gravity will vanish like a pleasant Dream, and will only leave the sad Remembrance of 'em behind. Languishing old Age, that Enemy of Pleasures, will bend thy Body double, infeeble thy trembling Limbs, and dry up that Spring of Joy which now rises in thy Soul, make thee dis-relish what is present, and fear what is to come, and ren∣der

thee insensible of every thing but Pain and Sorrow. This Time to thee seems distant; but alas! my Son, thou art mistaken, it advances apace, and will soon arrive; that which approaches with so much rapidity, can't be far from thee; the present Time flies away, and is remote al∣ready, since it vanishes in the mo∣ment we speak of it, and can come near us no more. Therefore, my Son, ne're reckon on the present, but bear up in the rough and diffi∣cult Path of Virtue in Prospect of the future. Prepare thy self by a virtuous Course of Life, and the love of Justice, for a place in the happy Regions of Peace. Thou art born to Reign after thy Father Ulys∣ses, whom thou shalt at last see Ma∣ster of Ithaca in a little time: thou art born to Reign; but alass! my Son, how deluding a thing is Re∣gal Power: If you look upon it at a distance, you see nothing but Au∣thority, Pomp and Pleasure; but

take a near Prospect, and it appears full of thorny Cares and Difficulties. A private Man may without dis∣honouring himself, lead a pleasant and obscure Life, but a King de∣grades himself if he prefers an easie and unactive Life to the painful Of∣fices of Government; he owes him∣self to all the People he Governs, and he is never permitted to be his own: His least Faults are of infinite Consequence, because they occasion national Miseries, and that some∣times for several Ages: He ought to suppress the Presumption of ill Men, to support Innocence, and dissipate Calumny. 'Tis not enough for him to do no Mischief, but he must do all the Good that is possible for him to do according to the Ne∣cessity of the State. 'Tis not e∣nough for him to do Good for his own part; he must besides this, hin∣der all the Mischief others would do if not restrain'd. Fear, there∣fore, O my Son, fear a Condition

so perilous; arm with Courage a∣gainst thy Self, against thy Passions, and against Flatterers. In speaking these words, Arcesius seem'd ani∣mated with a Divine Flame, and shew'd Telemachus a Countenance full of Compassion for the Miseries that accompany a Royal State; when 'tis assum'd, said he, to satisfie ones self, 'tis a monstrous Tyranny; when 'tis taken up, to fulfil the Du∣ties that belong to it, and to guide innumerable Multitudes, as a Father governs his Children, 'tis a pressing Servitude, which requires an He∣roick Courage and Patience. On the other hand, 'tis as certain that such as have reigned with uncor∣rupted Virtue, possess here all that the Power of the Gods can give, to render their Happiness compleat.

While Arcesius express'd himself after this manner, his words enter'd into the very Soul of Telemachus, and were as deeply impress'd on his Heart, like those indelible Characters

which an expert Artist engraves on Brass, with a design to have them expos'd to the View of all Poste∣rity: His sage Advice pass'd like a subtile Flame, and penetrated into the Heart of Telemachus, so that he felt himself strangely mov'd and in∣flam'd. Something Divine, which I know not how to describe, seem'd to melt his Heart within him. That which he carried in the inmost A∣partments of his Soul, secretly con∣sum'd him; he knew not how ei∣ther to contain it, or indure it, or to resist so violent an Impression; it was a sweet and calm kind of Sor∣row; a levity and delightful Senti∣ment, mix'd with a sort of Torment capable of depriving one of Life.

At length Telemachus began to re∣cover himself, and to breath more freely; he discern'd in the Counte∣nance of Arcesius, a great Resem∣blance of Laertes; he thought too he had a sort of a confus'd Remem∣brance, that he had seen in his Fa∣ther

Ulysses, the same kind Linea∣ments, when he parted for the Siege of Troy; these Reflections melted his tender Heart, so that Tears mix'd with Joy, gently trickled from his Eyes; he would fain have embrac'd a Person so dear to him; he at∣tempted it several times, but all in vain; the empty Shadow still es∣cap'd his Embraces; as a delusive Dream flies from a Man, when he imagines he is possess'd of a real En∣joyment: One while his thirsty Mouth pursues a Stream that slides away from him; Another while his Lips move to form Words which his faltering Tongue can∣not utter; he earnestly stretches out his Hands, and can take hold of no∣thing: Just so it was with Telema∣chus, who could not satisfie the ten∣der sentiments of his Soul; he sees Arcesius, hears him, speaks to him, but cannot touch him. In fine, he ask'd him, who those Men were, that were round about him. Thou

seest, my Son, reply'd this Grave Old Man, those Persons who have been the Ornament of the Ages wherein they liv'd, the Glory and Happiness of Mankind; thou seest the small number of Kings, who have been truly worthy of Royalty, and have faithfully perform'd the Function of Godsupon Earth. These others whom thou seest not far from 'em, but separated by the little Cloud, have a Glory too, but no∣thing near so great. These indeed are Hero's, but the Recompence of their Valour, and Military Expedi∣tions, is not to be compar'd with that of Wise, Just and Beneficent Kings: Among those Hero's, thou seest Theseus, whose Countenance is somewhat dejected; he has felt the Unhappiness of having too much Credulity for an Intreaguing Wife; and is still afflicted for having so unjustly desir'd of Neptune, the Death of his Son Hippolitus: Hap∣py had he been, if he had not so ea∣sily

and readily given way to the Passion of Anger. Thou also seest Achilles leaning on his Spear, because of the Wound the dissolute Paris gave him on the Heel, which put an end to his Days. If he had been as Wise, Just, and Moderate as he was Intrepid, the Gods would have granted him a long Reign; but they had pity on the Phitiotes and Dolopes, over whom, according to the ordina∣ry Course of Nature, he was to have reign'd after his Father Peleus; and they were not willing to leave so many People at the mercy of a vio∣lent and furious Man, more easie to be provok'd, than the most unquiet Sea is to be mov'd by a sudden Storm. The fatal Sisters have cut off the Thread of his Life; he was like a Flower scarce fully Blown, that is cut down by the rude Plow-man, and falls before the end of the Day that gave it Birth. The Gods were willing to use him only as they do Floods and Tempests, to punish

Men for their Crimes: They em∣ploy'd Achilles to beat down the Walls of Troy, to revenge the Per∣jury of Laomedon, and the unjust A∣mours of Paris: And after having us'd him as the Instrument of their Vengeance, they are appeas'd; and have refus'd the Tears of Thesis, to suffer this young Hero any longer upon Earth, who was fit for nothing but to disturb the World, and to o∣verthrow Cities and Kingdoms. But dost thou observe that other Person who looks so fiercely? 'tis A∣jax the Son of Telamon, and Cousin to Achilles; to be sure thou art not ignorant what Glory he acquir'd in Battel; after the Death of Achilles, he pretended his Armour ought not to be given to any but himself; but thy Father did not think fit to give him the precedency; and the Greeks gave Judgment in favour of Ulysses. Ajax upon this, kill'd himself in De∣spair: Indignation and Despair are still painted on his Countenance. My

Son, forbear to approach him, for he would think thou hadst a mind to insult over him, on the account of his Misfortune, which ought to be bewail'd. Dost thou not see that he looks upon us with Pain, and rushes hastily into the dark Grove, because he hates to see us? On the other side thou seest Hector, who had been In∣vincible, if the Son of Thetis had not been in the World. But take notice how Agamemnon passes along, still carrying the Marks of Clytemnestra's Perfidiousness. O my Son, I trem∣ble to think of the Misfortunes of that Family, of the Impious Tanta∣lus; the Contention of the two Bro∣thers Atreus and Thyestes, fill'd that House with Horror and Blood. A∣las! how one Crime draws a multi∣tude of others after it? Agamem∣non when he return'd at the head of the Greeks, from the Siege of Troy, had not time to enjoy in Peace the Glory he had acquir'd in War; and this is the Destiny of almost all Con∣querors.

All those Men whom thou seest there, have been formidable in War; but have not been of an A∣miable and Virtuous Disposition, and therefore are only admitted into the second Mansion of the Elysian Fields.

As for these others, who have reign'd with Justice, and had a ten∣der Affection for their People, they are the intimate Friends of the Gods. While Achilles and Agamemnon, full of their Quarrels and Battels, still re∣tain their Disquietments and natu∣ral Defects; while they in vain re∣gret the Life which they have lost, and asflict themselves with the Thoughts of being now Impotent and Vain Shadows; these Just Men who are refin'd by that Di∣vine Light which nourishes 'em, having nothing more to desire to make 'em happy, Behold, with compassion, the uneasinesses of poor Mortals; and the greatest Affairs that agitate the Minds of Ambitious

Men, appear to them like the tri∣fling Play of Children; their Hearts are replenish'd with Truth and Vir∣tue, which they draw at the Foun∣tain Head. They have now no∣thing more to suffer either from o∣thers or from themselves; no more Wishes, no more Necessities, no more Fears; all is at an end with them, except their Joy which can never end. Consider, my Son, this Ancient King Inachus, who sound∣ed the Kingdom of Argos; thou seest how full of Sweetness and Majesty his Old Age appears; the Flowers grow under his Steps; he treads so lightly, that his walking resembles the flying of a Bird; he holds a Golden Book in his Hand, and in an Eternal Transport, sings the won∣derful Works of the Gods; from his Heart and Mouth, he Breaths ex∣quisite Odors; the Harmony of his Lyre and Voice together is capable of Ravishing the Gods, as well as Men. He is thus rewarded for the

Love he bore to the People heaffembled within the compass of his New Walls, to whom he gave excellent Laws. On the other side, thou may'st see a∣mongst those Myrtles, Cecrops the E∣gyptian, who was the first King of Athens, a City Consecrated to that wise Goddess, whose Name it bears: This Cecrops brought wholesome Laws from Egypt (a Country which has been to Greece a Spring both of Learning and Morality); by this means he polish'd the rough Tem∣pers of the Towns of Attica, and u∣nited them by the Bands of Civil So∣ciety. He was eminent for Justice, Humanity, and Compassion; he left his People in great Prosperity, and his Family but in a middle state; he was not willing to have his Chil∣dren succeed him in his Authority; because he judg'd there were others more worthy of that Trust. I must likewise needs shew thee Ericthon, in this little Valley, who invented the Use of Silver for Money; this he

did with a Design to facilitate Com∣merce among the Cities of Greece; but he foresaw the Inconvenience at∣tending this Invention. Apply your selves, (said he, to all those People) to multiply natural and true Riches in your Dwellings. Cultivate the Earth, that you may have great plen∣ty of Corn, Wine, Oly, and other Fruits. Get innumerable Flocks, that may nourish you with their Milk, and Cloath you with their Wool. Hereby you will put your selves in a Condition never to be a∣fraid of Poverty: The more Children you have, the richer you'l be, pro∣vided you inure 'em to Labour and Industry; for the Earth is inex∣haustible, and augments her Fecun∣dity in proportion to the Number of her Inhabitants, who take care to manure her. She liberally rewards the Labour of 'em all; whereas she is tenacious and reserv'd to them that Cultivate her after a negligent manner. Endeavour therefore prin∣cipally

to acquire this real Wealth, which Answers the real Necessaries of Mankind: As for Money, no Account ought to be made of it any farther than it is necessary, either to carry on such Wars as you are un∣avoidably engag'd in abroad, or in the way of Commerce, for such ne∣cessary Commodities as are wanting in your own Countrey; and it were to be wish'd that Trasfick were suf∣fer'd to fall to the Ground, for all such things as serve only to maintain Luxury, Vanity, and Effeminacy. The Wise Ericthon would often say, My dear Children, I am much afraid I have made you a fatal Present, in giving you the Invention of Money: I foresee it will excite Ambition, Avarice, and Pride; that it will sup∣port an infinite number of pernici∣ous Arts, which only tend to debase and corrupt the meanest of Men; that it will make you disrelish that happy Simplicity which makes your Lives so very quiet and secure: In

fine, That it will make you despise Agriculture, which is the support of Humane Life, and the source of all solid Riches; but the Gods are my Witnesses, that my Heart was upright, when I imparted this In∣vention to you, which indeed is use∣ful in it self. But at length when Ericthon found that Money, as he had foreseen, corrupted the People, he for Grief retired into a solitary Mountain, where he lived in Pover∣ty, at a distance from Mankind, 'till he became extreme Old, without being willing to meddle with the Government of Cities. Not long after him appear'd in Greece, the fa∣mous Triptolemus, whom Ceres had taught the Art of Tilling the Ground, and covering it every Year with a Gilded Harvest. Not that Men were 'till then ignorant of Corn, and the manner of multiplying it by sowing; but they knew not the Art of Husbandry to that Perfection, till Triptolemus, sent by Ceres, came

with the Plow in his Hand to offer the Favours of this Goddess to all those Nations who had Courage e∣nough to overcome their natural La∣ziness, and to addict themselves to assiduous Labour. Triptolemus soon taught the Greeks the way of cleav∣ing the Ground with Furrows, and of rendring her fertile in tearing up her Bosom. The sweating and inde∣fatigable Reapers, soon made the Ripe standing Corn that cover'd the Fields, fall under their sharp Sicles; even the Wild and Barbarous Peo∣ple that were scatter'd up and down in the Forests of Epirus and AEtolia, seeking Acorns for their Food, be∣came civiliz'd, and submitted to Laws, when they had learn'd the way of making Corn grow, and of baking Bread. Triptolemus made the Greeks know the Pleasure of ow∣ing their Riches to nothing but their Labour, and of finding in their own Fields whatever was necessary to render their Lives commodious

and Happy. This simple and in∣nocent Plenty entail'd on Agricul∣ture, made them remember Ericthon's Counsel, so that they slighted Mo∣ney, and all Artifical Riches, that become so only by the Fancy of Men, which tempts 'em to seek af∣ter dangerous Pleasures, and divert 'em from Labour, in which they would find all real Wealth, with Pu∣rity of Manners in the full Enjoy∣ment of Liberty. They were then convinc'd, that a Fruitful and well Cultivated Field, was the true Trea∣sure of a Family, that was wise e∣nough to be content to live frugal∣ly, as their Fathers had done before 'em. And happy had the Greeks been, if they had continued firm and steady in embracing Maxims so pro∣per to render 'em powerful: Hap∣py Lovers of Liberty and Virtue! But alas! they begin to admire false Riches, and gradually neglect the true; they degenerate from their once admir'd Simplicity. O my Son,

thou shalt one Day Reign; and then remember to bring Men back to the Exercise of Husbandry, to Honour that Art, to support those that apply themselves to it, and neither to suffer the People to live in Idleness, nor to employ their Time in those soft Arts that uphold Luxury and Vanity. These two Men that were so wise, when up∣on Earth, are here cherish'd by the Gods themselves: Observe it well, my Son, their Glory as far surpas∣ses that of Achilles and other He∣ro's, who have only excell'd in Battel, as the agreeable Spring ex∣ceeds the frozen Winter, and as the Lustre of the Sun out-shines the feebler Light of the Moon.

While Arcesius was thus speaking, he perceived Telemachus had his Eyes continually fix'd on the side of a little Wood of Laurel, by a little River, the Banks of which were painted with Violets, Roses, Lillies, and many other sorts of odoriferous

Flowers, whose lively Colours re∣sembled those that invest Iris, when she descends from Heaven to bring some Message from the Gods to mor∣tal Men. 'Twas the great King Sesostris that Telemachus saw in this lovely Place; he was a thousand times more full of Majesty, than he had ever been when upon the Throne of Egypt; his Eyes emitted mild Rays of Light, which dazzled those of Telemachus; any one that saw him would think he were over∣charg'd with Nectar, the Spirit of the Gods had put him into such a Transport above the reach of hu∣man Reason, to recompense his Ver∣tues. Said Telemachus to Arcesius, O my Father, I know Sesostris that wise King of Egypt, whom I saw not long ago. Ay, there he is, re∣ply'd Arcesius, and thou seest by his Example how magnificent the Gods are in rewarding vertuous Princes: But you ought to know, that all this Felicity is nothing in Comparison

of what was design'd for him, if too great Prosperity had not made him forget the Rules of Moderation and Justice. The passionate Desire he had to abase the Pride and Inso∣lence of the Tyrians, engag'd him to take their City. This Conquest gave him the Ambition to attempt the making of others; so that he suf∣fer'd himself to be seduced by the vain-glory of Conquerors. He sub∣jugated, or to speak more properly, ravaged all Asia. At his return in∣to Egypt he found his Brother pos∣sess'd of the Throne, who by an unjust Government, had alter'd the best Laws of the Country. These are the Mischiefs Conquerors bring upon their own States, while they seek to usurp those of their Neigh∣bours. This is the Injury, a King otherwise so Just and Beneficent, did to the Laws; and 'tis this that diminishes the Glory which the Gods had prepar'd for him. Dost thou not see that other Person, my

Son, whose Wound appears so bright and glorious; 'tis a King of Caria, nam'd Dioclides, who devoted him∣self to Die in Battle for his People, because the Oracle had predicted that in the War of the Carians and Licians, that Nation whose King should Perish, should be Victorious. Here is another I would have thee consider; 'tis a wise Legislator, who having given Laws to the Nation under his Conduct, proper to make 'em Vertuous and Happy, made 'em Swear they would never vio∣late any of those Laws during his Absence; after which he left his Country, voluntarily exiling him∣self, and died Poor in a strange Land, by this means to oblige his People always to observe these use∣ful Laws according to their Oath. That other Prince, thou seest, is the eleventh King of the Pylians, and one of the Ancestors of wise Nestor: When the Earth was ravag'd by a Pestilence, which cover'd the

Banks of Acheron with a multitude of new Ghosts, he requested of the Gods that they would suffer him to appease their Anger, in satisfying by his Death for so many Thou∣sands of innocent Men. The Gods heard his Petition, and gave him here a royal Grandeur, in compa∣rison of which all the Pomps of the Earth are but so many vain Sha∣dows.

That old Man, whom thou seest crown'd with Flowers, is the famous Belus; he reigned in Egypt, and mar∣ried Anchinoe, the Daughter of the God Nilus, who hides the source of his Streams, and enriches the Countries which he Waters by his fruitful Inundations; he had two Sons, Danaus, of whose History thou art not Ignorant, and Egyptus, who gives his Name to that conside∣rable Kingdom. Belus thought him∣self Richer, by the Prosperity he gave his People, and the love his Subjects bare to him, than by all

the Tributes he could have exacted of 'em. These Men, my Son, whom thou supposest to be dead, are alive; and that Life which Men lead amidst many Miseries on Earth, is no bet∣ter than Death, only the Names of Things are chang'd. May it please the Gods to render thee Vertuous enough to merit this blessed Life, which nothing can ever either end or disturb. Haste away, 'tis time to go and seek thy Father; before thou shalt find him, alass, how much Blood-shed shalt thou see! But yet what Glory waits for thee in the Fields of Hesperia! Remem∣ber the Counsels of the wise Mentor; if thou follow'st them, thy Name shall be great among the Nations, and in all Ages.

Having said this, he presently conducted Telemachus toward the Gate of Ivory, which leads out of the gloomy Empire of Pluto. Tele∣machus parted from him with Tears in his Eyes, without being able to

embrace him: Being come out of these dark Regions, he made what haste he could to return to the Camp of the Allies, after he had again joyn'd the two young Cretans on the Way, who had accompanied him very near the Cavern, and had lost their hope of ever seeing him again. In the mean time the chief Com∣manders of the Army met together to deliberate whether they should possess themselves of Venusia. It was an old Fort which Adrastus had heretofore usurp'd upon his Neigh∣bours the Appulians. These were enter'd into the Confederacy against him, to demand Satisfaction for this piece of Injustice. Adrastus, to ap∣pease 'em, had put this City by way of Caution, into the Hands of the Lucanians, but had by Money corrupted both the Lucanian Garri∣son, and the Person that Command∣ed it; so that the 'Lucanians had in reality no more Authority than he in Venusia: And thus the Appulians,

who had consented that the Lucani∣an Garrison should keep Venusia, were trick'd in this Negotiation: A Citizen of Venusia nam'd Demo∣phantes, had made a private Offer to the Allies, to deliver up one of the Gates of the City in the Night. This Advantage was so much the greater, in that Adrastus had sent all the Ammunition, and Provisions to a Castle near Venusia, which could not defend it self if Venusia were ta∣ken. Philoctetes and Nestor had al∣ready given their Opinion, that such a happy Opportunity ought to be improv'd; all the Principal Com∣manders, sway'd by their Authority, and attracted by the Advantage of so easie an Enterprize, Applauded their Sentiment. But Telemachus at his Return, made his utmost Efforts to divert 'em from it. I am not Ig∣norant, said he, that if ever any Man deserv'd to be surpriz'd and deceiv'd, Adrastus does, who has so often dealt fraudulently with every

body else. I see very well, that in Venusia, you'l only put your selves in possession of a City that belongs to you, since it pertains to the Appu∣lians, who are one of our Confede∣rate Parties: I confess you may do it with the better colour of Justice, in as much as Adrastus, who has put this City as a Pledge in the Hands of others, has Corrupted the Commander and the Garrison, that he may enter it when he thinks fit: In fine, I understand as well as you, that if you take Venusia, you'l the next Day be Masters of the Castle, where all Adrastus his Provisions are laid up, and so may end this so for∣midable a War in two Days time. But is it not much better to Perish, than Conquer by such means as these? Is Fraud to be repell'd by Fraud? Shall it be said, that so many Kings who enter'd into a Confederacy, to punish the Impious Adrastus for his Guile, are become fraudulent like him? If'tis lawful for us to do as

Adrastus has done, he is not Guilty, and we are to be blam'd to go about to punish him. What has all Hespe∣ria, which is supported by so many Greek Colonies, and by so many He∣ro's return'd from the Siege of Troy? Has Hesperia no other Arms against the Perfidiousness and Perjury of Adrastus, than the practice of the same Vices? You have sworn by the most sacred Things, that you would leave Venusia in Trust, in the Hands of the Lucanians: The Lucanian Garrison you say is Cor∣rupted with Adrastus his Money; I believe it as well as you, but this Garrison is paid by the Lucanians, and has not refus'd to obey 'em; it has kept, at least in appearance, a Neutrality. Neither Adrastus nor any of his Men have ever enter'd in∣to Venusia; the Treaty subsists; your Oath is not forgotten by the Gods; shall we not keep the Promises we have given, but only when we want plausible pretexts to violate 'em?

Shall we not be faithful, and religi∣ously regard our Oaths, but only when there is nothing to be got in breaking them? If the Love of Virtue, and the Fear of the Gods don't move you, be concern'd at least for your Reputation, and for your Interest. If you shew the World this pernicious Example of violating your Faith, and breaking your Oaths to terminate a War, what Wars will you not stir up by your Impi∣ous Conduct? Which of your Neigh∣bours will not find themselves con∣strain'd to be jealous of you on all occasions, and utterly to detest you? Who will for the future confide in you in the most pressing Exigencies? What Security will you be able to give, if you should have a mind to be sincere, and when it would be of great Consequence to you to perswade your Neighbours of your sincerity? Shall it be a solemn Treaty? when you have trampled such a one un∣der your Feet. Shall it be an Oath?

when it is known you make no ac∣count of the Gods, if you have any hope of gaining an Advantage by Perjury. Peace will give no more Security, in respect of you, than War; all that comes from you will be receiv'd as War, either secret and dissembled, or open and declar'd. You'll be look'd upon as their per∣petual Enemies, by all who have the misfortune to be your Neigh∣bours; all Affairs that require Re∣putation, Probity and Confidence, will become impossible to you. You will have no Means left to make your Promises believ'd: Besides all this, said Telemachus, there is a more pres∣sing Interest that ought to touch you very sensibly: If you have any Sense and Foresight left, and that is, that so deceitful a Conduct inward∣ly attacks the League in which you are engag'd, and will soon ruin it; and thus by your Perjury you will open away for a Triumph to Adra∣stus. At these words the whole As∣sembly

was mov'd, and ask'd him, how he durst affirm, that an Action which would certainly give the Con∣federates a Victory, could ruin the Confederacy? How, reply'd he, will you be able to trust one ano∣ther, if you once break the only Bond of Society, and mutual Confi∣dence, which is Faith and Sinceri∣ty? After you have once established it for a Maxim, That the Rules of Probity and Fidelity, may be bro∣ken in Prospect of some great Ad∣vantage; How can any one of you put Confidence in any of the rest? For when this last shall find it very Commodious for his Interest to fal∣sifie his Word, and impose on you, how will you help your selves? Which of you will not endeavour to prevent the Artifices of his Neigh∣bour by Tricks of his own? And what will become of the Confede∣racy, when by a common delibera∣tion, 'tis agreed among 'em, that 'tis lawful to surprize a Neighbour

by such Wiles, and to violate the most solemn Engagements? What mutual Distrust and Divisions will be among you? And what violent Efforts to destroy each other? Adra∣stus will have no need then to de∣stroy you; you will do your own Business sufficiently, in justifying such Perfidiousness. O wise and magnanimous Princes! who Com∣mand with so much Prudence such innumerable Multitudes of People, do not disdain to hearken to the Counsel of a young Man: If you should fall into the most terrible Ex∣tremities, into which War some∣times precipitates Men, you might be reliev'd by the Vigilance, and the Efforts of your Vertue; for true Courage never suffers it self to be entirely depress'd; but if ever you break the Barrier of Honour and Fidelity, your Loss will become irre∣parable; you will never be able to re-establish either that Confidence among you, which is necessary to

the success of all important Affairs; nor bring Men back to the Principles of Vertue, after you have taught 'em to despise 'em. Again, what is it you are afraid of? Ha'n't you Courage enough to Conquer with∣out using Deceit? Is not your Ver∣tue in Conjunction with the Forces of so many Nations sufficient to sup∣port you? Let us fight and die, if it must be so, rather than Conquer by such unworthy means. Adrastus, the impious Adrastus is in our hands, provided we abhor to imitate his Baseness and Infidelity.

When Telemachus had finish'd this Discourse, he found that the charm∣ing Eloquence which had flow'd from his Lips, had pierc'd their ve∣ry Souls. He observ'd a profound Silence in the Assembly: Every ones Thoughts were engag'd in consider∣ing, not so much his Person, and the Graces of his Speech, as the Force of Truth that display'd it self so evi∣dently in the train of his Reasonings.

Astonishment was drawn on their Countenances: At last a low Mur∣mur was heard to spread it self by little and little among 'em; they look'd one upon another, and every one was loth to speak first: 'Twas expected that the chief Comman∣ders would declare themselves, and each of 'em felt an uneasiness in re∣taining his Sentiments. In fine, the grave Nestor deliver'd himself in these words: O worthy Son of the wise Ulysses! The Gods have taught you to speak; and Minerva, who has so often inspir'd your Father, has infus'd into your Soul that wise and generous Advice you have im∣parted to us. I don't mind your Youth; I only consider Minerva in all you have been saying: You have spoken on the behalf of Virtue; without which the greatest Advan∣tages are real Losses; without which we may draw upon our selves, the Revenge of our Enemies, the Distrust of our Allies, the Horror

of all good Men, and the just Dis∣pleasure of the Gods; I am there∣fore for leaving Venusia in the hands of the Lucanians, and for thinking of no other way of Conquering A∣drastus, but by our Courage. No sooner had he spoken, but the whole Assembly applauded the Wisdom of his Words; but in giving this Ap∣plause, every one turn'd his Eyes with wonder towards the Son of Ulysses; and all thought they saw that Wisdom of Minerva which in∣spir'd him, cast a sparkling Glory upon his Countenance.

There was soon rais'd in this Council of the King's, another Que∣stion, in resolving which, he ac∣quir'd no less Glory. Adrastus, who was always Cruel and Perfidious, sent into the Camp a Deserter nam'd Acanthus, who was to Poison the principal Commanders of the Army. Above all, he had order to spare nothing to bring about the Death of young Telemachus, who was al∣ready

become the Terror of the Dau∣nians. Telemachus, who had too much Courage and Candor to be in∣clin'd to Suspicion, without difficul∣ty, kindly receiv'd this Villain, who had seen Ulysses in Sicily, and gave him an account of the Adventures of that Hero. He maintain'd him, and endeavour'd to encourage him un∣der his Misfortune; for Acanthus complain'd, that he was deluded and treated unworthily by Adrastus; but this was to cherish and warm in his Bosom a Viper full of Venom, that was ready to give him a mortal Wound. Another Deserter was ta∣ken, call'd Arion, whom Acanthus had sent back to Adrastus, to acquaint him with the State of the Confede∣rate Camp, and to assure him that the following day he would Poison the principal Kings, together with Telemachus, at a Feast which this last was to make on his Account. Arion being surpriz'd, confess'd his Treason; he was suspected to have

Intelligence with Acanthus, because they were intimate Friends; but Acanthus being a profound Hypo∣crite, and intrepid, made his De∣fense with so much Art, that he could not be convicted; nor the bot∣tom of the Conspiracy discover'd. Divers of the Kings were for sacri∣ficing Acanthus at a venture, for the Publick Safety. He ought to die, said they; the Life of one Man ought not to stand in competition with the security of the Lives of so many Kings. What if one innocent Man perish, when his Death is de∣sign'd for the Preservation of such as represent the Gods among Men? What inhuman Maxim, reply'd Te∣lemachus, what barbarous Policy is this? Are you then so prodigal of human Blood? O you that are esta∣blish'd the Shepherds of Mankind, and only Rule over 'em to preserve 'em, as Shepherds do their Flocks. You, it seems, then are become cruel Wolves instead of being care∣ful

Shepherds; at least, you are on∣ly such Shepherds as cut the Throats of their Sheep instead of leading 'em into good Pasture. According to you, a Man becomes Guilty as soon as he is accus'd, and Suspicion makes him deserve Death; the Innocent lie at the mercy of Envy and Calumny; and according to your encrease of this tyrannical Jealousie in your Minds, we must have more such Victims sacrific'd. Telemachus ut∣ter'd these Words with such Au∣thority and Vehemence as captivat∣ed their Hearts, and cover'd the Authors of this so unmanly Advice with Shame and Confusion. In fine, he soften'd his words: For my part, said he, I am not so much in love with Life, as to secure it at that rate; I had rather Acanthus should be Vile and Wicked than my self; and would sooner chuse to die by his Treachery, than put him to Death by any unjust Sentence, on∣ly founded upon Suspicion. But

have a little Patience, O you, who in being establish'd Kings, that is, Judges of the People under your Charge, ought to know how to dis∣charge the Function with Justice, Prudence and Moderation; let me examine Acanthus in your Presence. Immediately he interrogated this Man about his Correspondence with Arion; he press'd him with an in∣finite number of Circumstances; he often made him believe he would send him back to Adrastus as a De∣serter that deserv'd to be punish'd; that he might the better make his Observation, whether he were a∣fraid to be sent back or not; but the Countenance of Acanthus still re∣main'd calm and even: From which Telemachus concluded that Acanthus might not be Guilty: In fine, per∣ceiving he could not thus draw the Truth out of his Breast, says he to him, Give me your Ring, for I'll send it to Adrastus: No sooner was the Ring demanded, but Acanthus

turn'd Pale, and was much embar∣rassed. Telemachus, whose Eyes were continually fix'd on him, dis∣cern'd it; he took the Ring; I'll im∣mediately send this, says he to Adrastus, by the Hand of an intreag∣ing Lucanian, nam'd Polytropus, with whom you are acquainted; he shall pretend to be come secretly from you; if we can by this means dis∣cover their private Intelligence with Adrastus, you shall without Mer∣cy be put to Death by the most cruel Torments; if on the contrary you now confess your Fault, you shall be pardon'd, and we'll content our selves only in sending you into an Island, where you shall want no∣thing. Upon this Acanthus corfess'd all, and Telemachus obtain'd of the Kings that his Life might be spar'd, because he had given him the pro∣mise of it; and he was sent to the Islands call'd Echinades, where he liv'd in Peace. Not long after this a Daunian of obscure Birth,

but of a violent and daring Tem∣per, nam'd Discorus, Tem∣per, nam'd Discorus, came in the Night into the confederate Camp, to make an offer to 'em to kill King Adrastus in his Tent. He was capable of this Attempt; for that Man is Master of the Life of another, who puts no Value upon his own. This Person breath'd no∣thing but Revenge, because Adrastus had taken away his Wife, whom he passionately Lov'd, and whose Beauty did not come behind that of Venus her self. He had secret In∣telligence whereby he could find a Way into the King's Tent in the Night, and could be favour'd in this Enterprize by several Daunian Cap∣tains; but he thought it necessary for the Confederate 〈◊〉〈◊〉 to attack Adrastus his Camp at the same time, that in the noiseand hurry of Action, he might with greater Facility make his Escape, and carry away his Wife too; and if he could not com∣pass this last Thing, after he had

kill'd the King, he was content to Die. As soon as Dioscorus had ex∣plain'd his Design to the Kings, they all turn'd themselves toward Tele∣machus, thereby signifying they de∣sir'd a direction in this matter from him. The Gods, said he, who have preserv'd us from Traitors, forbid us to make use of 'em; and if we had not Vertue enough to detest the Treason, our Interest alone would be sufficient to make us reject it; when we have once authoriz'd it by our Example, we shall deserve to have it turn'd against us; and who among us from that Moment will be safe? 'Tis possible Adrastus may escape the Blow that threatens him, and may make it fall upon the Confederate Princes; and then War will become quite another Thing, Wisdom and Vertue will be of no manner of use, and nothing will be seen but Frauds, Treasons and Assassinations; I therefore conclude we ought to send this Traitor back

to Adrastus; I cofess the King does not deserve it, but all Hesperia, and all Greece, who have their Eyes up∣on us deserve, that we should con∣duct our selves so as to gain their Esteem; we owe our selves, and in short we owe the just Gods such a Testimony as this of our Horror of Treachery. Dioscorus was imme∣diately sent to Adrastus, who trembled to think of the Danger he had been in, and mightily wonder'd at the Generosity of his Enemies; for ill Men know not how to comprehend what pure Vertue is. Adrastus was oblig'd whether he would or no to admire what he saw, but durst not commend it. This noble Action of the Allies, recall'd the shameful Remembrance, both of all his Trea∣cheries, and all his Cruelties; he would fain have extenuated the Ge∣nerosity of his Enemies, yet was ashamed to appear Ungrateful, while he ow'd 'em his Life; but Men that are corrupted soon harden themselves

against every Thing that touches 'em. Adrastus observing, that the Reputation of the Allies daily aug∣mented, thought himself oblig'd to perform some Action against 'em that might make a Noise in the World; and since he could not do a Vertuous one, he was desirous at least of obtaining some great Advan∣tage over 'em by Arms, and there∣fore made what haste he could to Fight.

The Day of Battle being come, scarce had Aurora open'd the oriental Gates to the Sun in a Path strow'd with Roses, when the young Tele∣machus, by his early Care out-stript the Vigilance of the oldest Captains, by throwing off the soft Embraces of Sleep, and putting all the Officers in Motion; already his Helmet co∣ver'd with his floating Hair glitter'd on his Head; and his Cuirass dazzled the Eyes of the whole Army; it was the Work of Vulcan, and had besides its natural Beauty, the Lustre of a

shining Breast-plate that was plac'd under it: He held a Spear in one Hand, and pointed with the other to the divers Posts that 'twas ne∣cessary to possess. Minerva had fill'd his Eyes with a divine Fire, and his Countenance with an awful Majesty, which began already to promise Victory. He march'd, and all the Kings forgetting their Age and Dignity, found themselves at∣tracted by a superior Power, which oblig'd 'em to follow his Steps. Weak Jealousie could enter their Breasts no more. Every thing gives way to him whom Minerva insensi∣bly Leads by the Hand. His Acti∣on had nothing in it that was Impe∣tuous or Precipitant; he was Mild, Calm, Patient, always ready to hear others, and to profit by their Ad∣vice; but Active, Sagacious, Atten∣tive to the remotest Exigences, dis∣posing all Things to the best Advan∣tage; not embarrasing himself with any Thing, nor perplexing others;

excusing Faults, rectifying Mistakes, preventing Difficulties, never re∣quiring too much of any one, and every where inspiring Freedom and Confidence; if he gave an Order, it was in the most simple and plain Terms; he repeated it, the better to inform the Mind of him that was to put it in Execution. He saw by his Eyes whether he comprehended it aright. He afterwards made him familiarly express, how he under∣stood his Words, and what was the principal Scope of the Attempt. When he had thus made Proof of the good Sense of the Person he sent, and had made him enter into his Designs, he never let him go, till he had given him some Mark of his Esteem and Confidence, to encou∣rage him; so that all he sent from him, were full of Zeal to please him, and a fervent Desire to succeed in their Undertakings: But they were not tormented with Fear that he would impute to them their ill

Success; for he excused all Faults that did not arise from an ill Dispo∣sition of Mind.

The Horizon appear'd Red, and inflam'd with the Sun's Morning∣Rays; the Sea was fill'd with the bright Reflection of the rising Day; all the Coast was cover'd with Men, Horses and Chariots, all in Motion; which made a confus'd Noise, like that of the angry Waves, when Neptune stirs up dismal Tempests at the bottom of his deep Territories. Thus Mars began by the Noise of Arms, and the dreadful preparati∣ons of War, to sow Rage in every Heart. The Field was full of brist∣ling Pikes, thick set like a Crop of Corn that covers a fruitful Field at the time of Harvest; there soon arose a Cloud of Dust, which vail'd both Heaven and Earth from the Eyes of Men; Darkness, Blood∣shed, Horror and merciless Death advanc'd apace. Scarce were the first Arrows Shot, when Telemachus

with his Eyes and Hands towards Heaven, pronounced these Words. O Jupiter, Father of the Gods and Men! Behold, behold on our side Justice and Peace, which we have not been asham'd to pursue: 'Tis with Regret we Fight; we would willingly be sparing of humane Blood; we do not hate even such an Enemy as this, tho he is Cruel, Perfidious and Sacrilegious; Behold, and give a decision between him and us. If we must Die, our Lives are in our Hands. If we must deliver Hesperia, and humble this Tyrant, it will be thy Power, and the Wis∣dom of Minerva, thy Daughter, that will give us the Victory; and the Glory of it will be due to you. 'Tis you that hold the Ballance, and regulate the Fate of Battles; we Fight for you, and seeing you are Just, Adrastus is more your Enemy than ours. If your Cause prove Victorious, before the end of the Day, the Blood of a whole Heca∣tomb

shall flow upon your Altars. No sooner had he thus spoken, but he push'd on his fiery and foam∣ing Coursers into the closest Ranks of the Enemy. He presently met with Periander the Locrian, cover'd with the Skin of a Lyon which he had kill'd in Sicily, when he tra∣vel'd thither. He was arm'd like Hercules, with a prodigious Club; in Strength and Stature he was like the ancient Gyants. When he saw Telemachus, he despis'd his Youth, and the Beauty of his Countenance. Is it not, says he, a pretty Business for thee, thou young effeminate Spark, to dispute with us the Glo∣ry of Battle? Go Child, get thee among the Shades, to seek thy Fa∣ther; in speaking which Words, he lifted up his heavy Club, which was full of Knots, and arm'd with Iron Spikes; it was so big and long, that it look'd like the Mast of a Ship: Every one near was afraid of being crush'd by the fall of it. It

most threaten'd Telemachus his Head; but he avoided the Stroke, and flew upon Periander as swiftly as an Eagle cuts through the Air. The Club fell upon the Wheel of a Chariot, near that of Telemachus, and broke it; in the mean time the young Greek struck a Dart into Periander's Throat. The Blood that ran bub∣bling out in abundance from the wide Wound, soon suffocated his Voice; his furious Horses no longer felt any restraint from his fainting Hand, but ran madly up and down with the Reins hanging loose upon their Necks; he soon fell from his Chariot, with his Eyes already clos'd from the Light, and pale Death was already painted on his deform'd Visage: Telemachus mov'd with pity towards him, immediate∣ly gave his Body to his Domesticks; and kept the Lyon's Skin together with his Club, as a Mark of his Victory. After this he sought for Adrastus in the Body of the Army,

and in his way precipitated into Hell a Multitude of Warriours. Hileus, who had his Chariot drawn by two Courses, like those of the Sun, which were fed in those vast Meadows which Aufidus Waters. Dimoleon, who formerly in Sicily had almost equal'd Erix in Com∣bat for the embroider'd Girdle. Cranter, who had been the Host and Friend of Hercules, when this Son of Jupiter was going into Hesperia, where he kill'd the infamous Cacus. Menecrates, who was said to resemble Pollux in Wrestling. Hippocon the Salapian, who imitated the peaceful Addresses of Castor in the manage∣ment of a Horse. The famous Hun∣ter Eurimedes, who was always stain'd with the Blood of Beasts and wild Boars, which he kill'd on the Ridges of the cold Appenine, which are cover'd with Snow; who is said to have been so dear to Diana, that she taught him her self to handle the Bow. Nicostrasius who had

quer'd a Gyant, that vomited Fire in the Rocks of Mount Gargan. E∣leanthus, who was to espouse the Young Pholoe, Daughter of the Ri∣ver Lyris. She had been promised by her Father, to the Person that should deliver her from a Wing∣ed Serpent, that was bred on the Banks of the River, and would have devoured her in a few Days, according to the Prediction of an Oracle. This Young Man prompt∣ed by an extraordinary love to her, ventur'd his Life to kill this Mon∣ster; he succeeded in the Attempt, but could not taste the Fruit of his Victory; for while Pholoe was pre∣paring for the Rights of Charming Hymen, and expected Eleanthus with impatience; she was inform'd that he follow'd Adrastus into the Wars, and that the Destinies had cruelly cut off his Days. This News made her fill the Woods and Mountains near the River with her Groans; she drowned her Eyes in Tears, and

tore off her lovely Hair. She for∣got the Garlands of Flowers she was wont to gather; and accus'd Hea∣ven of Injustice, because she inces∣santly wept Day and Night; the Gods touch'd with her Complaints, and mov'd by the Prayers of the River put an end to her Sorrow; for she pour'd out such abundance of Tears, that she was instantly turn'd into a Fountain, which run∣ning into the Bosom of the River, seeks to join her Waters with those of the God her Father; but the Wa∣ter of this Fountain is still bitter; Grass never grows upon the Bank of it, nor is any Shade to be found on the sides of it, but that of mourn∣ful Cypress Trees.

But to return: Adrastus perceiving that Telemachus spread Terror on e∣very side, sought after him with the utmost diligence, hoping easily to Conquer the Son of Ulysses, in an Age as yet so tender. He was at∣tended with Thirty Daunians, of

extraordinary Strength, Dexterity, and Boldness, to whom he promis'd very great Rewards, if thy could a∣ny way in the World kill Telemachus in Battle. And if they had met him just at this time of the Fight, without doubt these Thirty Men, by surroundings his Chariot, while Adrastus would have attack'd him in the Front, would have found no great difficulty in dispatching him. But Minerva turn'd 'em out of their way. Adrastus thought he saw, and heard Telemachus in a low part of the Plain, at the foot of a Hill, where a great number of Soldiers were closely engag'd. Hither he runs, or rather flies, with an eager Desire to satiate himself with Blood; but in∣stead of Telemachus, he finds the A∣ged Nestor, who with his trembling Hand, was throwing Darts at a venture, tho' he did little or no Ex∣ecution: Adrastus in his fury would have run him through, had not a Troop of Pylians thrown themselves

round about Nestor: A Cloud of Darts then soon obscur'd the Air, and cover'd all the Combatants; no∣thing was to be heard but the Wo∣ful Cries of dying Men, and the clashing of the Arms of those that fell in among the Crowd; the Earth groan'd under Heaps of dead Bodies; Torrents of Blood ran on all sides; Bellona and Mars, toge∣ther with the Infernal Furies, cloath'd with Robes all over running down with Blood, glutted their hol∣low Eyes with this Spectacle, and incessantly renew'd a Marshal Rage in the Hearts of the Combatants; these Deities, who are the Enemies of Men, chased far away from both Parties, generous Pity, moderated Valour, and sweet Humanity. There was nothing among these confus'd Heaps of Men enrag'd one against a∣nother, but Slaughter, Revenge, Despair and brutish Fury. The Wife and Invincible Pallas her self, trem∣bled at the sight, and started back

with horror. In the mean time Philoctetus march'd on by degrees, with the Arrows of Hercules in his Hands, endeavouring to come to the Relief of Nestor. Adrastus not able to reach the Divine Old Man, had pierc'd several Pylians with his Darts, and made 'em lick the Dust. He overthrew Eusilas, who was so swift a Runner, that he scarce left the print of his Steps upon the Sand, and in his own Countrey, outstript the most rapid Streams of the Eu∣rotas, and the Alpheus. At his Feet fell Entiphon, who was more Beau∣tiful than Hylas, and as violent a Hunter as Hyppolitus. Pterelas, who had followed Nestor to the Siege of Troy, and whom Achilles himself lov'd for his Courage and Strength: Aristogiton, who by bathing in the Waters of the River Achelous, had friendly receiv'd of this God, the power of assuming all sorts of Forms; in short, he was so supple and nim∣ble in all his Motions, that he es∣cap'd

the Hands of the strongest Warriors; but Adrastus with one thrust of his Spear, depriv'd him of all Motion, and soon let out his Blood and Soul together.

Nestor seeing his most Valiant Captains fall by the Hand of Adra∣stus, as the gilded Ears of Corn in time of Harvest, fall under the keen Sickle of the Indefatigable Reaper, forgot his own Danger, and need∣lesly expos'd himself. He threw a∣way his Old Age, and thought of nothing but how to follow his Son Pisistratus, in keeping his Eyes in∣tent on him, who on his side was very warmly engag'd, to keep off Danger from his Father. But the fatal Moment was come, in which Pisistratus was to make Nestor feel how unfortunate a Man may be in living too long. Pisistratus push'd his Spear with such violence against Adrastus, that this Daunian Prince must needs have fallen, but that he avoided the Stroke; and while Pi∣sistratus who was somewhat discom∣pos'd

by the false Thrust he had 〈◊〉〈◊〉 was recovering his Spear, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 pierc'd him with a Javesin in the middle of his Folly. His Bowels immediately began to come out with a Torrent of Blood. His lively Colour vanish'd like that of a Flow∣er, after the Hand of some Nymph has gather'd it in the Meadow; his Eyes were already almost extin∣guish'd, and his Speech falter'd, when Alisius his Governour, who 〈◊〉〈◊〉 near him, supported him just as he was falling, and had only time to 〈◊〉〈◊〉 him to his Father, and throw him into his Arms; then he would fain have) spoken, and have given him the last marks of his ten∣der Affection, but as he open'd his Mouth to speak, he expir'd.

While, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 spread Slaugh∣ter and Horror round him, in 〈◊〉〈◊〉 the Efforts of Adrastus; Nestor held the Body of his Son close∣ly grasp'd in his Arms, and fill'd the Air with lamentable Cries, not being able to 〈◊〉〈◊〉 the Light any

longer. All unfortunate 〈◊〉〈◊〉 that I am, said he, that I have been a Father, and lived so long! Alas! ye cruel Destinies, why did you not end my Life, either 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Hunting the 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Boar, or in my 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Voyage, or at the first Siege of 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Then I should have died with Glory, and without bitterness and Sorrow. Now I carry with me a 〈◊〉〈◊〉 despiss'd, and impotent Old. Age I now live only to suffer 〈◊〉〈◊〉 and have no other 〈◊◊〉〈◊◊〉me, but that of Sorrow. O my Son! my Son! O my dear Son 〈◊〉〈◊〉 When I lost they Brother 〈◊〉〈◊〉 〈◊◊〉〈◊◊〉wast my 〈◊〉〈◊〉 but now I have thee no more, now I have no∣thing left; nothing can yield me any Consolation more: All is at an End with me. Hope, the only mitigation of Human 〈◊〉〈◊〉 is an Advantage in which I have no Interest. O 〈◊〉〈◊〉 O 〈◊〉〈◊〉 my dear Children, this seems to me the 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Day wherein I lose you both. The Death of one o∣pens again the Wound which that of

the other had made in the bottom of my Heart. I shall never see either of you again: Who now shall close my Eyes? Who shall gather up my Ashes? O Pisistratus, thou didst die as well as thy Brother, a Vali∣ant Man; 'tis only I that cannot tell how to die. In uttering these Words he would have pierc'd him∣self with a Dart which he held in his Hand, if he had not been pre∣vented by those that were about him; after which they took from him the Body of his Son; and this unfortunate Old Man falling into a Swoon, they carried him into his Tent, when after he had a little re∣cover'd his Spirits, he would have return'd into the Battel, which they would by no means suffer him to do.

In the mean time Adrastus and Philoctetus were searching for each other. Their Eyes sparkled like those of a Lion and a Leopard, that are seeking to devour one another in those Fields which Cocyties waters. Menaces, warlike Rage, and cruel

Revenge glitter in their furious Eyes; they bring certain Death wherever they throw their Darts. All the Sol∣diers beheld 'em with Terror: And now they see one another: Phi∣loctetus held in his Hand, one of those terrible Arrows, which never fail'd to do Execution in his Hands, and made Wounds that were incu∣rable. But Mars who favour'd the Cruel and Intrepid Adrastus, would not suffer him to die so soon; having a Desire, by his means, to prolong the Horrors of War, and multiply. Slaughter and Cruelty. Adrastus his Life was yet owing to the Justice of the Gods, as their Scourge to pu∣nish Men, and shed their Blood. In the very Moment Philoctetus design'd to attack him, he was himself wound∣ed by the thrust of a Spear, given him by Amphimachus, a young Lu∣canian, whose Beauty exceeded the famous Niceus, as the Beauty of this latter gave place to none, but that of Achilles among all the Greeks that

〈2 lines〉〈2 lines〉 Wound, but he drew his Bow a∣gainst 〈◊〉〈◊〉 and sent an Arrow to him that pienc'd his 〈◊〉〈◊〉 The Lustre of his lovely Black Eyes was instantly extinguish'd and cover'd with the Shades of Death; his Vermilion Lips whose Colour excell'd that of the 〈◊〉〈◊〉 which oising 〈◊◊〉〈◊◊〉along the Horizon, grew Wan, and a dreadful Paleness 〈◊〉〈◊〉 his lovely Cheeks: In a word; his tender 〈◊〉〈◊〉 dolicate Countenance was all on a Asudden disfigur'd. 〈◊〉〈◊〉 himself could not forbear to pity him. And all the Souldiers that ob∣serv'd him, could not chuse but sigh to see this Young Man fall, and roul in his own Blood; his Head of Hair, which, for Beauty, might vie with that of Apollo, all dishe∣vel'd and defil'd in the Dust. Phi∣loctetus having Conquer'd Amphima∣chus, was constrain'd to retire from

the Battle; he lost his Blood and Strength, and even his Ancient Wound, seem'd in the heat of 〈◊〉〈◊〉 on, ready to open again, and 〈◊〉〈◊〉 his Pain; for the Sons of 〈◊〉〈◊〉 with all their Divide Art, could not entirely cure it. And now he was just ready to fall among the Heap of bleeding Bodies, that were round about him; when Archiaamus, the holdest and most dextrous of all the Thebalians that he had brought with him to Found Philelia, carried him out of the Battel, in the very mo∣ment when Adrastus would have 〈◊〉〈◊〉 him at his Feet with ease: And now Adrastus finds no farther 〈◊〉〈◊〉 none daring to resist or retard his Victory. All fall or fly before him; and he becomes like a Tor∣rent, which having overflown its Banks, sweeps away with its full∣ous Waves, Corn and Cattle, Shep∣herds and their Cottages together.

Telemachus hears from far the shouts of the Conquerors, and sees.

the Disorders of his Men, who fled before Adrastus, as a Company of timorous Deer, traverse the vast Plains, Woods, Mountains, and e∣ven the swiftest Rivers, when pur∣sued by the Hunters.

Telemachus sigh'd; Indignation sparkles in his Eyes; he quits the Place where he had been so long fighting, with so much Danger, and Glory, and runs to the Succour of his discouraged Troops. He ad∣vances, all besmear'd with the Blood of a multitude of Enemies, whom he had spread upon the Dust. He gives a shout at a distance, that was heard by both Armies: Minerva had put something unexpressibly ter∣rible, both in his Eyes and Voice, with which he made the neighbour∣ing Mountains eccho. Never did Mars make his own cruel Voice to be heard louder in Thrace, when he call'd upon the infernal Furies, War and Death, to attend him. This shout of Telemachus, inspird the

Hearts of his Soldiers with Courage and Boldness, and fills the Souls of his Enemies with Fear and Dread. Adrastus is asham'd to feel himself thus disorder'd. I know not how many fatal Presages fills him with Terror; and that which animates him, is ra∣ther Despair, than true Valour, which is accompanied with Tran∣quillity of Mind. Three times his trembling Knees began to slip away from under him; three times he stept back without thinking what he was doing; a faint Paleness and a cold Sweat ran through all his Limbs; his hoarse and faltering Voice could not finish any Sentence; his Eyes, full of gloomy Fire, spark∣led and look'd as if they would start out of his Head; he seem'd agitated by the Furies, like Orestes; all his Motions were Convulsive; he thought he saw the Gods, irritated against him; and that he heard a whispering Voice proceeding from the bottom of Hell, to call him into

black 〈◊〉〈◊〉 every thing made him sensible there was a 〈◊〉〈◊〉 and 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Hand waving over his Head, which was going to 〈◊〉〈◊〉 its Force, in 〈◊〉〈◊〉 him 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Hope was extinguish'd at the 〈◊〉〈◊〉 of his Heart; his Resolution was 〈◊〉〈◊〉 and disappear'd like the Light of the Day, when the Sun lies down in the Bosom of the Sea, and the Earth wraps her self in the Shades of the Night. The impious Adrastus, too long suffer'd upon the Earth; too long, if Mankind had not stood in need of such a Scourge, the impious Adrastus, in sine, draws near his last Hour, he runs like a mad Man to meet his inevitablo Fare: Horror, cutting Remorse, Consternation, Fury, Rage, and Despair, march along with him. No sooner does he see Telemachus, but he thinks he sees Avertius open it self; and the rowling Flames of black Phlegethon ready to dovour him. He cries out, and his Mouth

remain open without being 〈◊〉〈◊〉 〈1 line〉〈1 line〉 Man 〈◊〉〈◊〉 who 〈◊〉〈◊〉 frightfuli Dream opens his Mouth, and makes attempts no speak but still wants 〈◊〉〈◊〉 and seeks it in 〈◊〉〈◊〉 However, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 with a tremb∣ling and 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Hand, throws his Dart at Telemachus; while the latter, intrepid. and calm as the Minds of the Gods, defends himself with his Buokler; Victory covering. him with her Wings, seems already to hold a Crown over his Head; a sweet and orderly Courage shines in his Eyes; one would have taken him for Minerva her self, he appear'd so wise and regular in the midst of the greatest Dangers. The Dart which Adrastus cast being repuls'd by his Buckler, Adrastus made hast to draw his Sword to hinder 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Son of the Advantage of taking 〈◊〉〈◊〉 turn to throw his Dart at him: 〈◊〉〈◊〉 seeing Adrastus's Sword in his Hand, betakes himself immed

〈◊〉〈◊〉 to his own, omitting to throw his Dart. When they were seen in this Posture of fighting one another hand to hand; all the rest of the Soldiers laid down their Arms in silence, to look upon 'em with the greatest Attention, expecting from their single Engagement the destiny of the whole War. The two Swords glitter'd like the Lightning which sends forth terrible Claps of Thunder, they often cross one ano∣ther, and deal Blows without Ex∣ecution on their polish'd Armor, which resounded with the heavy strokes. The two Combatants stretch out and recover themselves, stoop down and rise up all in an instant; and in fine, they fall to grappling: The Ivy that grows at the Foot of a young Elm, does not more straitly wreath its twining Branches about the hard and knotty Trunk, till it climbs up to the lostiest Boughs of the Tree, than these two Comba∣tants Clasp and Lock one another.

Adrustus had yet lost nothing of his Strength, and Telemachus had not muster'd all his together. Adrastus made several Essorts to surprize his Enemy, and over-set him; he en∣deavours to seize the Sword of the young Greek, but in vain; while he attempts this, Telemachus takes him up from the Ground, and throws him flat upon the Sand: Then this impious Prince, that had always contemn'd the Gods, mani∣fested an unmanly fear of Death; he is asham'd to beg Life, yet can't help signifying that he desir'd it; he endeavours to move the Com∣passion of Telemachus by such words as these: O thou Son of Ulysses, says he, I now at last acknowledge that the Gods are Just; they punish me according to my 〈◊〉〈◊〉 'Tis only by Calamities that the Eyes of Men are open'd to see the Truth; I see it, and it condemns me: But let an unfortunate King put you in mind of your Father, who is remote

from 〈◊〉〈◊〉 and let the thoughts of this 〈◊〉〈◊〉 your Heart.

〈◊〉〈◊〉 who was holding him under his Knees, and had his Sword already lifted up to kill him, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 answer'd, I desire not 〈◊〉〈◊〉 but Victory, and the Peace of the Na∣tions which I came to 〈◊〉〈◊〉 I have ho 〈◊〉〈◊〉 in shedding Blood. Live therefore, O 〈◊〉〈◊〉 but live to make Reparation for your Faults; 〈◊〉〈◊〉 all that you have 〈◊〉〈◊〉 re-establish Tranquility and Justice in the Confines of the great Hesperia, which you have defil'd with so ma∣ny Massacres and Treacheries. Live and become another Man; learn by your Fall, that the Gods are Just, and that the Wicked are Miserable; that they deceive themselves in seek∣ing Happihess, in Violence, Barba∣rity and Fraud: In short, that no∣thing is so happy and sweet as sim∣ple and steady Vertue. Give us for Hostages your Son Metrodorus, with twelve of the principal Nobles of

your 〈◊〉〈◊〉 A those words, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 suffers him 〈◊◊〉〈◊◊〉and gives him his Hand, not, suspecting his 〈◊〉〈◊〉 for 〈◊〉〈◊〉 threw at-him the 〈◊〉〈◊〉 time a short 〈◊〉〈◊〉 which he kept 〈◊◊◊〉〈◊◊◊〉 was so 〈◊〉〈◊〉 and 〈◊〉〈◊〉 with that force, that it would have 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Telemachus's Armor, had it not been made by a Divine Hand; at the same time 〈◊〉〈◊〉 cast himself be∣hind a Tree, to avoid the 〈◊〉〈◊〉 of 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Upon this, the lat∣ter cries out, O 〈◊〉〈◊〉 the Vi∣ctory's ours! This impious Man saves himself. only by his Treachery; he who fears not the Gods, fears Death; on the contrary, he that fears them, has nothing else to fear. In utter∣ing these words, he advances to∣wards the Daunians, and gives a sign to his Men that were on the other side of the Tree, to cut off the Retreat of the 〈◊〉〈◊〉 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Adrastus fearing he should be taken, makes as if he would return the same

way he came, and went to fall up∣on the Cretans, that stood ob∣struct his Passage; when on a sud∣den, Telemachus, swift as the Thun∣der which the Father of the Gods shoots from high Olympus upon guil∣ty Heads, falls upon his Enemy; he seizes him with his victorious Hand, casts him upon the Ground, as the violent North-wind beats down the tender Ears of Corn that guild the Field He now will hear no more, tho' the impious Wretch once again essays to abuse the Good∣ness of his generous Mind; he in∣stantly thrusts his Sword into his Bowels, and precipitates him into the Flames of black Cocytus, a Pu∣nishment worthy of his Crimes.

Adrastus was scarce dead, when all the Daunians were so far from deploring their Defeat, and the loss of their General, that they rejoyc'd at their Deliverance, and held out their Hands to the Allies in sign of Peace and Reconciliation. Metrodo∣rus

the Son of Adrastus, whom his Father had educated in Maxims of Dissimulation, Injustice, and Inhu∣manity, fled away like a Coward: But a Slave that was an Accomplice of his Infamies and Cruelties, whom he had infranchized and loaded with Favours, and in whose hands alone he trusted himself in his Flight, thought of nothing but how to be∣tray him for his own Interest. He kill'd him as he fled, by giving him a Wound in the Back, cut off his Head, and brought it into the Con∣federate Camp, hoping to receive a great Recompence for a Crime that finish'd the War: But the Act of this Villain was abhor'd, and he put to Death. Telemachus having seen the Head of Metrodorus, who was a young Prince of wonderful Beauty, and of an excellent natural Temper, tho' corrupted by Pleasures and vitious Examples, could not re∣strain his Tears. Alas! cry'd he, here is what the Poison of Prosperi∣ty

does for a young Prince; the more Elevation and Vivacity of Mind he has, the more he wanders and becomes a Stranger to all Senti∣ments of true Virtue; and now it may be my Condition had been like his, if the Misfortunes in which I was born and educated, Thanks be to the Gods, and to the Instructions of Mentor, had not taught me to govern my self.

The assembled Daunians desir'd, as the only Condition of Peace, that they might be permitted to make 'em a King of their own Nation, who might by his Vertues 〈◊〉〈◊〉 the Reproach which the impious Adrastus had brought upon the Crown. They thank'd the Gods for having cut off the Tyrant, and came in Multitudes to kiss the Hand of Telemachus, which had been em∣brew'd in the Blood of that Mon∣ster; so that their Defeat was a Tri∣umph to 'em. Thus, in a moment, fell that Power without possibility

of Recovery which 〈◊〉〈◊〉 all the rest in Hesperia, and made for many Nations, tremble; like those 〈◊〉〈◊〉 of made Ground that appear firm and immoveable, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 by degrees are mouldring below for a great, while the feeble Work of 〈◊〉〈◊〉 the Foun∣dations is derided; nothing appears the 〈◊〉〈◊〉 for it, all is stable, no∣thing so much as shakes, yet all the subterranean Props are gradually de∣stroy'd to the Foundation, and all on a sudden the 〈◊〉〈◊〉 sinks, and opens a prodigeous Pit. Thus an unjust and fraudulent Power, what Prosperity soever it acquires by its Violences, digs a Precipice under its own Feet; Fraud and Cruelty gradually undermine all the firmest Foundations of unlawful Authority. Men admire it, fear it, tremble be∣fore it, till the moment it vanishes; it falls with its own weight, and nothing can raise it again, because it has with its own Hands de∣stroy'd the true Props of Sincerity

and Justice, which attract Love and Confidence.

The chief Commanders of the Army the next Day assembled to grant the Daunians a King. It was a very pleasant Thing to see the two Camps confounded together, by so unexpected a Friendship, so that the two Armies now made but one; the wise Nestor could not assist at this Council, because his Grief, ad∣ded to his old Age, had wither'd his Heart, just as a Storm of Rain in the Evening beats down a Flower, and makes it languish, which in the Morning while Aurora was rising, was the Glory and Ornament of the verdant Fields. His Eyes were become two Springs of Tears, that could not be exhausted; soft Sleep that Charms the acutest Pains, fled far away from him. Hope, which is the Life of a Man's Heart, was extinct in him; all Food was bitter to this unfortunate old Man; the Light was odious to him, his Soul

desir'd nothing but to Die, and plunge himself into the eternal Night of Pluto's Empire. In vain did all his Friends speak to him; his sink∣ing Heart was disgusted with all Friendship, as a sick Man disrelishes the most dainty Meats. To all that could be said to him, to make the deepest Impression on his Mind, he return'd nothing but deep Sighs and Groans. From time to time he was heard to say, O Pisistratus, Pisistratus, Pisistratus, my Son, thou call'st me away, I'll follow thee, thou wilt render Death sweet to me. O my Son! all the Happiness I now desire, is to see thee again on the Banks of Styx. He past whole Hours without uttering one Word, but was still Groaning, and lifting up his Hands and Eyes all drown'd in Tears to Heaven.

In the mean time the Princes be∣ing assembled, were expecting Te∣lemachus, who was by the Body of Pisistratus; he strew'd handfulls of

〈◊〉〈◊〉 upon the Corps, to which he added exquisite Perfumes, and pour'd forth bitter Tears; O my dear Companion, said he, I shall never forget how I saw thee at Pilos, and how I follow'd thee to Sparta, how I found thee again on the Coasts of the great Hesperia. I owe thee a Thousand and a Thousand kind Offices; I Lov'd thee, and thou hadst a like Love for me; I knew thy Valour, it 〈◊〉〈◊〉 that of ma∣ny famous Greeks. But alass! 'tis extinguish'd with thy Glory; 'twas thy Valour that has rob'd the World of that improving Vertue of thine, which would have equal'd that of the greatest Men. Yes, thy Wis∣dom and thy Eloquence in a riper Age, would have resembled the like Endowments in the most celebrated Men of Greece. Thou hadst alrea∣dy acquired that sweet Insinuation, that could not be resisted when thou spakest, those natural and lively ways of relating Matters; that pru∣dent

Moderation which is a Charm to appease irritated Minds; that Authority which proceeds from Prudence and the force of good Counsels. When thou spokest, eve∣ry Ear was attentive; all were pre∣possess'd in thy Favour, every one was willing to find Reason on thy side. Thy Speech that was plain and simple, void of Pomp, sweetly instill'd it self into Men's Souls, like the Dew upon the 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Grass. But alass! all those Advantages which we were in possession of a few Hours ago, are taken away from us for even Pisistratus, whom I embrac'd this Morning, is now no more. We have nothing remaining but the sad remembrance of him. 〈◊〉〈◊〉 That thou hadst clos'd the Eyes of Nestor; and that we had not all been so un∣happy to see thine clos'd; he would not then have seen what he is now forc'd to behold; he would not then have been the most unhappy Fa∣ther in the World.

After these Words, Telemachus caus'd the bloody Wound which was in the side of Pisistratus to be wash'd; he order'd him to be laid out upon a purple Bed, where his Head inclining on his Shoulder with the paleness of Death, resembled a young Tree, which having cover'd the Earth with its Shadow, and stretch'd its flourishing Boughs to∣wards Heaven, is wounded by the Edge of the Woodman's Axe; it no longer holds by its own Root, nor by the Earth, that fruitful Mother that nourishes her Branches in her Bosom; it languishes, its Verdure decays, and being no longer able to bear up, down it falls; its wide and thick Branches that lately were as a Veil to obscure the Light of Hea∣ven; now lye extended in the Dust, wither'd and dry; 'tis now no more than a Trunk fell'd to the Ground, and spoil'd of all its Beauties. Thus Pisistratus being become a Prey to Death, was now carried away

by those who were appointed to lay him on the fatal Pile. The Flame already began to ascend toward Hea∣ven; a Troop of Pylians with Eyes dejected and full of Tears, and with their Arms revers'd with a slow and mournful Pace attended him. The Body was soon Burnt, the Ashes put into a Golden Urne; and Tele∣machus who took care to have all this perform'd, committed this Urne as a great Treasure to Callimachus, who had been Pisistratus his Gover∣nour. Keep safely, says he, these Ashes, the sad but precious Remains of him you Lov'd. Keep 'em for his Father, but wait till he recovers Strength enough to ask 'em before you give 'em to him; that which irritates Sorrow at one time allays it at another.

At length Telemachus enter'd the Assembly of the confederate Kings, where every one kept Silence, in expectation to hear him Discourse; when he perceiv'd it he blush'd, and

they could by no means engage him to Speak: The Praises that were given him by publick Acclamations, and above all his late Actions aug∣mented his bashful Disposition: So that he would have been glad to have hid himself. This was the first time that he appear'd embarrass'd and unsteady; in fine he desir'd as a Fa∣vour, that they would desist from speaking in his Praise: 'Tis not, said he, that I do not love Praises, above all when they are given by such good Judges of Vertue, but 'tis because I am afraid of Loving 'em too much; for they are apt to cor∣rupt Men, they fill 'em with them∣selves, and render 'em Vain and Presumptuous. We ought both to merit 'em and avoid 'em. The justest Praises resemble those that are false and flattering. The most wick∣ed of all Mankind, the Tyrians are those that have made themselves prais'd the most by servile Flatterers. What Pleasure is there in being

Prais'd like them? Due Praises are such as you will give me in my absence, if I am so happy as to de∣serve 'em. If you believe me to be truly Good, you ought also to be∣lieve that I am willing to be Modest, and to be afraid of Vanity. Spare me therefore, if you value me, and do not Praise me as if I were a Man fond of Praises.

After Telemachus had thus express'd himself, he answer'd not a Word more to those that continued to ex∣tol him to the very Heavens; but by an Air of Indifference he soon put a stop to the Enocomiums that were made on him; till they began to fear they should displease him in commending him. But their Admiration still increased; every one knowing the Tenderness he had manifested to Pisistratus, and the care he had taken to render him the last Devoirs; the whole Army was more touch'd with the Marks of Tenderness and Generosity of his

Heart, than with all the Prodigies of Wisdom and Valour, that had been shining so Conspicuously in him. He is Wise, he is Valiant, said they in secret one to another; he is the Friend of the Gods, and the true Hero of our Age; he is rais'd a de∣gree above Mankind: But this is only matter of Wonder, all this does no more than fill us with Astonish∣ment; he has Humanity and Good∣ness, he is a Friend, he is Tender, he is Compassionate, he is Bene∣ficent, and entirely theirs whom he ought to Love; he is the Delight of them that live with him; he divests himself of his Dignity, of his Re∣pose, and of his Grandeur: This is that which makes him useful; this is that which touches Mens Hearts; this is that which fills us with such tender Affections towards him, and renders us sensible of all his Vertues. This is that which makes us all rea∣dy to Sacrifice our Lives for him.

These Discourses were scarce fi∣nish'd, when they hasten'd to speak of the necessity of giving a King to the Daunians. The greatest part of the Princes that were in the Coun∣cil were of Opinion, that it was best to divide the Country amongst 'em as a Conquer'd Land; and offer'd Telemachus the fertile Country of Arpos, which twice a Year bears the rich Bounty of Ceres, the sweet Pre∣sents of Bacchus, and the ever green Fruits of the Olive-Tree, which is sacred to Minerva. This Land, said they, ought to make you forget poor Ithaca with its Cottages, and the frightful Rocks of Dulichia, toge∣ther with the savage Woods of Za∣chanthus. Ne're persist longer to seek your Father, who was certain∣ly lost in the Waves at the Promon∣tory of Caphaneus, through the Re∣venge of Nauplius and the Anger of Neptune; nor your Mother who is long since in the possession of her Lovers; nor your Country, whose

Soil is not favour'd by Heaven, like this we now offer you. He patient∣ly heard this Discourse, but the Rocks of Thrace and Thessaly are not more deaf and insensible of the Com∣plaints of despairing Lovers, than Telemachus was of all these Propo∣sals. For my part, replyed he, I am not mov'd either with Riches or Pleasures; what signifies it to pos∣sess a greater extent of Ground, or to Command a greater Number of Men? One has therewith but the more Perplexity and the less Liberty: Life is full enough of Miseries, even for the wisest and most regulate sort of Men, without the additional Trouble of governing other Men, who are Untractable, Unquiet, Un∣just, Treacherous and Ungrateful. If one has a Mind to have Dominion over Men, out of Self-love, looking at nothing but one's own Authority, Pleasures and Glory; this is to be Im∣pious and Tyrannical, and become the Scourge of Mankind. If on the

contrary I have a Mind to govern Men only according to right Rules, for their own Good; I am not so much their Master as their Guardian, I have nothing but the Trouble of it, which is infinite; and this makes me very far from desiring to enlarge the Bounds of my Authority. The Shepherd, who devours not his Flock, but defends it from the Wolves with the hazard of his Life, who watches over it Night and Day, leading it into fat Pastures, has no great Mind to augment the Number of his Sheep, and to seize on those of his Neighbours; this would be but to increase his Trouble. Altho' I have never govern'd, added Telemachus, I have learn'd by the Laws, and by those wise Men that made 'em, how toilsom a thing it is to have the Conduct of Cities and Kingdoms; I am therefore content with my poor Ithaca, tho it be small and mean. I shall have Glory enough, provided I Reign there with

Justice, Piety and Courage; and in∣deed I shall Reign there but too soon. May it please the Gods that my Fa∣ther may escape the Fury of the Waves, and Reign there to extreme old Age, and that I may long learn under him to subdue my Passions, and to know the Art of regulating those of a whole Nation.

Afterward he thus proceeded; Hear, O ye Princes who are here assembled, what I think I ought to tell you for your own Interest. If you procure the Daunians a just King, he'll govern them Justly; he'll make 'em sensible how much it is for their Advantage, to pursue Faith and Sincerity, and never to usurp upon their Neighbours; all which they could never come to un∣derstand under the impious Adrastus. As long as they shall continue under the conduct of a just and moderate Prince, you will have nothing to fear from them; they will owe you this good King, whom they have

receiv'd from your Hands; they will owe you all the Peace and Prospe∣rity which they shall enjoy under his Government. These People will be so far from attacking you, that they will incessantly bless you; both the King and People will be the Work of your Hands. If on the contra∣ry, you resolve to share their Coun∣try among you; I'll undertake to predict the Mischiess that will ensue. These People driven to Despair, will begin a new War. They will have a just Cause to take up Arms for their Liberty. The Gods, who are mortal Enemies to Tyranny, will fight for 'em; and if the Gods in∣termeddle with the Quarrel, sooner or later you will be confounded, and all your Prosperity will be dissipated like Smoke. Counsel and Wisdom will be taken away from your Com∣manders, and Courage from your Ar∣mies, and Plenty from your Lands: You will flatter your selves, and act with precipitancy in your Enterpri∣zes;

you will silence Men of Inte∣grity, when they go about to tell you the Truth; you will fall on a sudden, and it will be said of you; Are these then the flourishing Na∣tions that were to give Laws to all the World, and now they fly before their Enemies? They are the Sport of other Nations, who trample you under their Feet: This is the Work of the Gods; this is what a People of Unjust, Proud, and Inhumane Minds deserve. Besides consider, if you attempt to divide this Conquest among you, you re unite all the Neighbouring Nations against you. Your League form'd to defend the common Liberty of Hesperia, against Adrastus the Usurper, will become odious; and 'tis you that all the World will with good Reason Accuse of having aspir'd to Usurp an Universal Tyranny. But we'll suppose you should prove Victorious both over the Daunians, and all other Nations that shall assist

'em; this Victory will destroy you, and this I'le make out to you. Con∣sider, this Enterprize will dis-unite you all; for since 'tis not founded upon Justice, you will have no Rule among you to bound each others Pretensions; every one will have a Mind that his part of the Conquest should be proportionate to his Pow∣er: None of you will have Autho∣rity enough over all those Nations, to make this Division peaceably; And this will be the source of a War, of which the Youngest of your Children will not see an end. Is it not much more eligible to be Just and Regular, than to follow one's Ambition through so much Dan∣ger, and amidst so many inevitable Misfortunes? Are not profound Peace, the sweet and Innocent Plea∣sures that accompany it, the Hap∣piness of Plenty, the Friendship of Neighbours, the Glory which is in∣separable from Justice, the Authori∣ty which is acquired, in rendring

ones self by Fidelity and Sincerity, the Arbiter of all Foreign Nations; are not these, I say, Advantages much more desirable, than the fool∣ish Vanity of anunjust Conquest? O Princes! Oh Kings! you see I speak to you without seeking any Interest of my own: Hearken there∣fore to one who loves you so well, as even to contradict and displease you, in setting the Truth before you in a clear Light.

While Telemachus spake thus with an Air of Authority, which they had never seen in any other; all the Princes struck with astonishment and in suspence, admir'd the Wis∣dom of his Counsels: There was hear'd a confus'd Noise, which spread it self throughout the Camp, and came to the very Place where the Assembly was held. A Stranger (say they) is come on Shore on these Coasts, with a Troop of Armed Men; this unknown Person is of a lofty Mien; every thing in him ap∣pears

Heroick; 'tis easie to discern that he has been long harrass'd with Sufferings; and that his great Cou∣rage has set him above all his Ca∣lamities. At first, the People of the Country who guard the Coasts, would have repulsed him as an E∣nemy that was coming to make an Invasion; but after having drawn his Sword with an Air of Intrepidi∣ty, he declar'd that he knew how to defend himself if he were attack'd, but that he asked nothing but Peace and Hospitality. Immediately he presented an Olive Branch as a Sup∣pliant; upon this he was heard; he desir'd to be brought to those that govern in this part of Hesperia, and therefore he is conducted hither, to speak to the Assembled Kings.

This Discourse was scarce finish'd, but this Stranger was seen to enter with a Majesty that surpriz'd the whole Assembly. One might easily have been induced to believe he was the God Mars, he was so like him

when he assembles his bloody Troops upon the Thracian Mountains. He address'd himself to them after this manner.

O ye Shepherds of the People, who without doubt are here assem∣bled either for the Defence of your Countries against your Enemies, or to make 'em flourish by your Righ∣teous Laws: Hearken to a Man who has been Persecuted by For∣tune. (May it please the Gods that you never experience the like Mis∣fortune) I am Diomedes King of Eto∣lia, who incensed Venus at the Siege of Troy; the Revenge of this Goddess pursues me throughout the Universe. Neptune who can refuse nothing to the Divine Daughter of the Sea, has deliver'd me up to the Rage of the Winds and Waves, which have often dash'd me against the Rocks. The inexorable Venus has depriv'd me of all Hope of ever seeing again my Kingdom, my Family, and the sweet Light of that Country, where

I first saw the Day at my Birth; no, I shall never more see what is most dear to me in the World. I now am come, after so many Ship-wracks, to seek on this unknown Shore, a little Repose, and a safe Retreat; if you fear the Gods, and above all, Jupiter, who has a respect for Stran∣gers, and takes care of 'em; if you have any sentiment of Compassion, do not refuse me in these vast Coun∣tries, some spot of Barren Ground, some desart Shades, or craggy Rocks, that I with my Companions, may Found a City there, which may be at least, the Melancholy Image of our lost Country. We ask but a little Ground in a useless place; we'll live in Peace with you in a strict Al∣liance; your Enemies shall be ours; we'll enter into all your Interests; we only desire the Liberty of living according to our own Laws.

While Diomedes spake thus, Tele∣machus, who kept his Eyes atten∣tively fix'd on him, shew'd all the

different Passions in his own Coun∣tenance. When Diomedes began to speak of his long Misfortunes, he was in Hope it was his Father. As soon as he had declar'd himself to be Diomedes, Telemachus his Counte∣nance languish'd like a Flower which the Envious North-wind had just wi∣ther'd with its cruel Blast. The fol∣lowing Words of Diomedes complain∣ing of the Anger of a Deity, melt∣ed him with the Remembrance of the same Disgraces suffer'd by his Father and himself; Tears mix'd with both Grief and Joy, ran down his Cheeks, and he instantly threw himself upon Diomedes to embrace him. I am, says he, the Son of U∣lysses, whom you once knew, and who was not unuseful to you, when you took the famous Horses of Rhe∣sus; the Gods have treated him as well as you without Pity: If the O∣racles of Erebus deceive us not, he is still alive; but alas! he is not alive to me: I have left Ithaca to seek him;

and now I cannot see either Ithaca or him again: Judge by my Mis∣fortunes, what Compassion I have for others. The Advantage that is gain'd by Calamities, is to know how to sympathize with others in the like Troubles. Tho' I am but a Stranger here, I am able, O Great Diomedes (for in spight of all the Calamities that overwhelm'd my Country during my Infancy, I have not been so ill Educated as to be Ig∣norant of the Glory you have ac∣quir'd in Battle) I am able, O Prince most Invincible of all the Greeks, next to Achilles, to procure you some Relief. These Princes you see here, are Men of Humanity, without which they know there is no true Virtue, nor Courage, nor solid Glo∣ry. Misfortune adds a new Lustre to the Glory of great Men; they still want something, while they know not what 'tis to be Unfortu∣nate. Examples of Patience and Firmness of Mind, are, 'till then,

wanting in their Lives. Suffering Virtue softens all Hearts that have any vertuous Relish; leave to us therefore the care of consolating you; seeing the Gods have brought you to us, we receive you as a Pre∣sent which they make us, and ought to esteem our selves Happy, that we are in a Capacity to alleviate your Afflictions.

While he spake, Diomedes, struck with Wonder, look'd intently on him, and felt a great Emotion in his Heart; they embrac'd one ano∣ther, as if they had been united in the strictest Bonds of Friendship. O Worthy Son of the Wise Ulysses, said Diomedes, I discern in you the Sweetness of his Countenance, the Grace of his Discourse, the Force of his Eloquence, the Elevation of his Sentiments, and the Wisdom of his Thoughts. In the mean time Phi∣loctetus in the like manner Embra∣ces the Son of Tideus; they related to one another their sad Adventures;

after which, says Philoctetus to him, without doubt, you will be glad to see the Wise Nestor; he has lately lost Pisistratus, the last of his Chil∣dren, and now there remains no∣thing more to him in this Life, but a Way of Tears to lead him to his Tomb. Come and try to com∣fort him; a Friend under the Frowns of Fortune, is more proper than ano∣ther to allay the Sorrows of his Heart. They immediately went into Ne∣stor's Tent, who scarce knew Dio∣medes, Sorrow had so depress'd his Spirit and Senses. Diomedes present∣ly fell to weeping with him, and their Enterview serv'd, at first, on∣ly to redouble their Sorrow; but by degrees the presence of this Friend appeas'd the Grief of the good Old Man; and one might easily discern, that his Sorrow was in some measure suspended, by the Pleasure of rela∣ting what he had suffer'd, and of hearing on the other side, what had befallen Diomedes.

While they thus entertain'd one another, the Kings assembled with Telemachus, were examining what they ought to do. Telemachus ad∣vis'd them to give Diomedes the Country of Argos, and to choose Po∣lydamas for King of the Daunians, who was of their own Nation. This Polydamas was a famous Cap∣tain whom Adrastus, throught Jea∣lousie, was never willing to employ, left the Success, all the Glory of which he promis'd himself alone, should be attributed to the Conduct of this able Man. Polydamas had in particular often advertis'd him that he too much expos'd his own Life, and the Safety of his Country in this War against so many Confe∣derate Nations: He would often have engag'd him to keep a more regular and even Conduct with his Neighbours. But those Men that hate Truth, also hate such as have the boldness to declare it to 'em; they are not affected either with their

Sincerity, or their Zeal, or their Disinteressedness. A deceitful Pro∣sperity harden'd Adrastus's Heart a∣gainst his most salutary Counsels. In not following them he every day triumph'd over his Enemies. Pride, Fraud, and Violence still brought Vi∣ctory on his side; none of the Misfor∣tunes that had been so long threatned by Polydamas, befel him. Adrastus laugh'd at that timorous Prudence, which is always foreseeing Inconveni∣ences. Polydamas at length became in∣tolerable to him; he remov'd him from all Places of Trust, and left him to languish in Solitude and Poverty. Polydamas was at first over-born with this Disgrace, but it soon yielded him what he wanted; in opening his Eyes to see the Vanity of great Fortunes, he became Wise at his own Cost; he began to congratu∣late himself on his Misfortunes; he gradually learn'd to Act, and live in good earnest, calmly to nourish his Soul with Truth, to cultivate in him∣self

those secret Vertues, which are even more estimable than those that make the greatest show and noise in the World. In fine, to know how to live without Men, He dwelt at the foot of Mount Gargan, in a De∣sart, where a vaulted Rock serv'd for his House, a Rivulet that ran down from the Mountain appeas'd his Thirst, some Trees that grew there, yielding him their Fruits; he had some Slaves that cultivated a little Field for him, in which he wrought with them with his own Hands; the Ground recompens'd his Labour with large Increase, not suf∣fering him to want any thing; he had not only Fruit and Grain in a∣bundance, but all sorts of fragrant Flowers besides. There he deplor'd the Unhappiness of those People that are led to Destruction by the mad Ambition of a tyrannical Prince. There he every day expe∣cted that the just Gods, tho' patient for a time, would over-turn the

Throne of Adrastus; the more his Prosperity encreas'd, the more irre∣coverable he thought his Fall would prove. For Imprudence, when pro∣sperous in its failings, and Power when risen to the last excess of ab∣solute Authority, are the fore-run∣ners of the over-throw of Kingdoms, and their Kings. When he heard of the Defeat and Death of Adrastus, he manifested nothing of Joy; either for having fore-seen it, or for being deliver'd from the Power of this Tyrant; he sigh'd only for fear of seeing the Daunians in a State of sla∣very. This is the Man Telemachus propos'd for their King. He had for some time known his Courage and Valour. For Telemachus, ac∣cording to the Advice of Mentor, did not cease to inform himself of all the good and evil Qualities of any Person that was in any considerable Employ, not only among the Con∣federate Nations, whom he serv'd in this War, but even among his

Enemies. His principal care was 〈◊〉〈◊〉 where to discover and ex∣amine Men, who had any particu∣lar Talent or Virtue.

The Confederate Princes at first had some reluctancy against placing Polydamas in the Throne. We have had Experience, said they, how for∣midable a King of the Daunians is to his Neighbours, when he loves War, and knows how to manage it. Polydamas is a great Captain, and may cast us into very great Dan∣gers: But Telemachus reply'd, 'Tis true, Polydamas understands War, but he loves Peace; and these are the two things that ought to be de∣sir'd in a Prince. A Man who knows the Miseries, Hazards, and Difficul∣ties of War, is much more capable of avoiding it than another, who has no manner of Experience in these Things. Polydamas has learn'd to relish the Happiness of a quiet Life. He condemn'd the Enterprizes of Adrastus; he foresaw their fatal Con∣sequences;

a weak and ignorant Prince is more to be fear'd by you, than a Man who is able to under∣stand and determine every thing himself. A weak and ignorant Prince can see nothing but by the Eyes of a passionate Favorite, or a flattering Minister, who is Turbu∣lent and Ambitious; so that a Prince thus blinded, will engage himself in War, when he has no mind to it; and you can never know when you are sure of him, Secause he can ne∣ver be sure of himself; he'll falsifie his Word to you, and soon reduce you to that Extremity, that you'll be under a Necessity, either of ru∣ining him, or of being ruined by him. Is it not more advantageous, safer, and at the same time more just and noble, faithfully to answer the Confidence the Daunians put in you, and to give 'em a King wor∣thy to Command 'em? The whole Assembly was convinc'd by this Speech; and it was order'd that Po∣lydamas

should be propos'd to the Daunians, who expected an Answer with impatience. When they heard the name of Polydamas, they an∣swer'd, We are now well assur'd that the Consederate Princes will act sin∣cerely, and make an everlasting Peace with us; seeing they are willing to grant a Man so Vertuous, and so capable of Governing us, to be our King. If a lewd, effeminate, and ill instructed Person had been pro∣pos'd to us, we should have believ'd an occasion was thereby sought to destroy us, and to corrupt the Form of our Government; we should have secretly laid up in our Breasts a lively Resentment of so severe and fraudulent a Piece of Conduct; but the Choice of Polydamas discovers to us true Candor: The Confederates, without doubt, expected nothing of us, but what is just and noble; see∣ing they allow us a King, who is incapable of doing any thing against the Liberty and Glory of our Na∣tion.

And we in like manner can protest in the Presence of the just Gods, That the Rivers should sooner re-ascend to their Sources, than we will cease to love such beneficial Na∣tions. May our latest Posterity re∣member the Favour we receive this day of renewing from Generation to Generation, the Peace of the Gol∣den Age, in all the Borders of Hes∣peria.

Telemachus, after this, propos'd to give Diomedes the Fields of 〈◊〉〈◊〉 to found a Colony there. This new People, says he to 'em, will owe their Settlement to you in a Coun∣try which you don't Occupy. Re∣member that all Men owe one ano∣ther Love, that the Earth is too large for 'em all; that you must have Neighbours, and 'tis best to have such as are oblig'd to you for their Establishment. Be mov'd with the Misfortune of a King, who can∣not return into his own Country. Polydamas and he being united toge∣ther

by the Bands of Justice and Virtue, which are the only dura∣ble ones, will preserve you in pro∣found Peace, and render you for∣midable to all the neighbouring Na∣tions, that may think of aggrandiz∣ing themselves. You see, O Dau∣nians, that we have given you and your Nation a King capable of ad∣vancing its Glory to the Skies: Do you also give a Piece of Ground that is useless to you, seeing we ask it at your hands, to a Prince who is wor∣thy of all kind of Relief.

The Daunians reply'd, that they could refuse nothing to Telemachus, since it was he that had procur'd Polydamas to be their King: And they immediately went to seek for him in his solitary Dwelling, to make him Reign over 'em. Before they went, they gave the fertile Plains of Arpos to Diomedes, for him to found a new Kingdom there. The Allies were extremely pleas'd with it, because this Colony of Greeks

would considerably fortifie the Con∣federate Party, if ever the Daunians should endeavour to renew the Usur∣pations, of which Adrastus gave 'em so ill an Example.

Telemachus, with Teass in his Eyes, took his leave of 'em, together with his Company, after he had tender∣ly embrac'd the valiant Diomedes, the wise and inconsolable Nestor, and the famous Philoctetes, the wor∣thy Possessor of the Arrows of Her∣cules. The brave Son of Ulysses, long'd with impatience to see Men∣tor again at Salentum, and to embark with him for Ithaca, where he hop'd his Father might by this time be ar∣riv'd. When he approach'd Salen∣tum, he was amaz'd to see the Coun∣try round, which he had left almost quite uncultivated and desert, ma∣nur'd like a fine Garden, and fill'd with industrious Labourers; he knew this must be the work of Men∣tor. When he enter'd the City, he observ'd there were fewer Artificers

for Luxury and the Pleasures of Life; and to make a great appear∣ance of Magnificence. Telemachus was choaked at this, for he natu∣rally lov'd all things that carried Pomp and Politeness with them. But his Mind was soon possess'd with other Thoughts. He saw at a di∣stance Idomeneus coming toward him with Mentor; this instantly mov'd his Heart with Joy and Tenderness. And notwithstanding all the Success he had had in the War against A∣drastus, he was afraid lest Mentor should not be well pleas'd with him; and as he advanc'd, he examin'd his Eyes to see if he could read nothing in 'em that might occasion him to reproach himself. First, Idomeneus embrac'd Telemachus as his own Son; after which Telemachus threw him∣self about Mentor's Neck, and wet∣ted him with his Tears. Says Men∣tor to him, I am well pleas'd with you; you have committed great Faults, but they have serv'd to

make you know your self, and to give you a diffidence in your own Performances. Men often derive more Advantage from their Defects than from their great Actions; for these swell the Mind, and inspire it it with a dangerous Presumption, whereas a Man's Faults make him recollect himself, and restore him that Prudence which he had lost in the time of his good Successes. That which remains for you to do, is to Praise the Gods, and not to desire the Praises of Men your self; you have done great Things, but con∣fess the Truth, 'tis scarce your self that have done 'em: Did they not enter like something Adventitious that was infus'd into you? And were you not capable of spoiling all by your too great Temerity and Imprudence? Do you not find that Minerva has, as it were, transform'd you into another Man above your self, to perform by you that which you have done? She has held all

your desects in suspense, as Neptune does when he appeases the Tempests and suspends the irritated Waves.

While Idomeneus was speaking to the 〈◊〉〈◊〉 who were return'd from the War, Telemachus listen'd to the wise Counsels of Mentor. After which he look'd on every side with Astonishment, and said, what a Change do I see, the reason of which I cannot comprehend? Is some Ca∣lamity befallen Salentum during my absence? Whence is it that that Mag∣nificence that reign'd in every part of it at my departure, is not discern∣ible at present? I see here neither Gold nor Silver, nor precious Stones. The Habit of the People is plain; and the Buildings that are Erecting are not so magnificent and full of Or∣naments; the Arts languish here, and the City is become a Desert.

Says Mentor, smiling upon him, Have you observ'd the Conditions of the Country round about this City? Yes, reply'd Telemachus, I see Hus∣bandry

is in Repute every where, and the Fields are clear'd and ma∣nur'd. Which is best, added Men∣tor, a City Proud and Magnificent, with abundance of Gold and Silver, with the Country round it neglected and barren; or a City mean in its Ornaments and modest in its Man∣ners, with Fields about it cultivated and fruitful? A great City of Ar∣tificers employ'd in soft Arts which corrupt the Manners of Men, by engaging them in a luxurious Course of Life; when 'tis surrounded with a Kingdom that is poor and ill cul∣tivated, is like a Monster whose Head is of an extravagant Size, and whose whole Body is extremely thin and depriv'd of Nourishment; so that it bears no proportion to that Head. 'Tis the number of People and plenty of Provisions, in which the true Strength and true Riches of a Kingdom consists. Idomeneus has now a People innumerable and in∣desatigable in Labour, who fill the

whole Extent of his Country. His whole Country is as it were but one entire City. Salentum is only the Center of it; the more the People multiply, the more are the Fruits of Earth multiplied by their La∣bour; this so sweet and peaceable Multiplication augments his King∣dom more than a Conquest. Only those superfluous Arts are rejected in this City, which divert the Poor from seeking the supply of their real Wants from the Earth; and corrupt the Rich by casting 'em into a state of Pride and Softness. Thus Ido∣meneus is much more powerful than he was when you so much admired his Magnificence. That dazzling Splendor hid under it a Weakness and Misery, which would soon have overturn'd his Empire; now he has a greater number of Men, he pro∣vides for 'em more easily; these Men who are accustom'd to Labour and Toil, and to a generous contempt of Life, by the Love they bear to

good Laws, are always ready to Fight to defend those Lands which their own Hands have Cultivated. This State, which you suppose un∣der a declension, will soon become the Wonder of Hesperia. Remem∣ber, O Telemachus, that two Things are very pernicious in the Govern∣ment of Nations, and sacrce ever admit a Remedy. The first is an unjust and too violent Authority in Kings; the other is Luxury, which corrupts the Manners of the People. When Kings accustom themselves to know no other Laws but their own Will, and to put no restraint on their Passions, they may do any Thing; but by this Power of doing any Thing, they weaken the Founda∣tion of their Authority; they have no certain Rule remaining, nor any Maxims of Government. Every one strives to exceed others in flatter∣ing them. Thus they lose their People, and have nothing left 'em but Slaves. Who shall tell 'em that

bold Truth that may set Bounds to this Torrent? Every thing gives way to it. The wisest Men fly, hide themselves, and sigh in secret. Nothing less than a sudden and vio∣lent Revolution can bring back this exorbitant Power into its natural Channel. Nay, oftentimes the Blow that is design'd to regulate it, overthrows it Irrecoverably. No∣thing so much menaces a fatal Fall as an Authority which is push'd too sar; 'tis like a Bow too much bent, which at last breaks all to pieces, if it be not slacken'd. But who shall dare to slacken this overstrain'd Pow∣er? Idomeneus lov'd Justice with all his Heart; yet by this so flatter∣ing Authority, he had been over∣turn'd from his Throne; and would still have remain'd under the Power of the same Delusion, had not the Gods sent me here to undecieve him about this blind and extravagant Power, which does not agree with the State of Men. Nay, there were

some kinds of Miracles necessary to open his Eyes. The other almost incurable Mischief is Luxury. As, too great an Authority poysons Kings, Luxury poysons a whole Nation. 'Tis commonly said that Luxury serves to Feed the Poor at the charge of the Rich; as if the Poor could not get their Living more profitably in increasing the Fruits of the Earth, without render∣ing the Rich effeminate, by refining voluptous Arts. Thus a whole Nation accustoms it self to look upon the most superfluous Things as the Necessities of Life; and new Ne∣cessities of this king are invented every Day. Men can't tell how to Live without Things that were quite unknown thirty Years ago; This Luxury they call the Bon gout, the perfection of Arts. This Polite∣ness of a Nation, this Vice which draws so many others after it, is commended as a Vertue, and spreads its Contagion down to the very

Mob. The nearest Relations of the King are willing to imitate his Mag∣nificence, and the middle sort would fain equal those of great Quality; for who is it that is willing to do himself Justice? The lowest Rank of Men desire to pass for the middle Sort; and every one does more than he is able, some for Ostentation, and to make a show of their Wealth; others from a foolish Shame, and to conceal their Poverty: Even those who are wise enough to condemn so great a Disorder, are not so wise as to dare to begin to stem the Tide, and to give contrary Examples. A whole Nation runs to Ruin, all con∣ditions and ranks of Men are con∣founded; the passionate Desire of acquiring Riches to support a vain Expence, corrupts the purest Minds; And nothing is sought for but how to become Rich. To obtain this End, Men Borrow, Cheat, and use a Thousand unworthy Artifices: But who shall remedy these Mis∣chiefs?

The Relish and Habits of a whole Nation must be chang'd, new Laws must be given 'em; and who shall attempt this? Unless the King be so much of a Philosopher as to know how, by the pattern of his own Moderation, to cover all such with Shame who love a pompous Expence; and to encourage the Pru∣dent, who are glad to be autho∣riz'd in an honourable way of Fru∣gality.

Telemachus hearing this Discourse, was like a Man just waking from a profound Sleep. He conceiv'd the Truth of these Things, and they were deeply impress'd on his Heart, by Mentor's Words, as a skilful Sta∣tuary cuts whatLiniaments he pleases on a piece of Marble, so that they gave him Affection, Life and Mo∣tion. He answer'd nothing, but revolv'd in his Mind all that he had been hearing. His Eyes ran over the Things that had been alter'd in the City; in fine, he said to Mentor,

you have made Idomeneus the wisest of all Kings; I now neither know him nor his People. Nay, I confess that what you have done here is infinitely greater than all the Victo∣ries we have been Winning. Chance and Strength have a great share in the Successes of War; and these Successes are always Mischievous and Odious. But what I see here is all of it the Work of a celestial Wis∣dom; all is sweet, all is pure, all is lovely, all discovers an Authority more than Humane. When Men have a Mind to Glory, why do they not seek it, in thus applying their Minds to do Good? How little do they understand what solid Glory means, who hope to acquire it in ravaging the Earth, and pour∣ing out humame Blood? Mentor dis∣play'd a sensible Joy in his Face to find Telemachus so happilp undeceived about his Atchievements and Victo∣ries, at an Age in which it was so natural for him to be intoxicated

with the Glory that surrounded him.

After this Mentor added. 'Tis true, all you see here is good and laudable; but know that 'tis possible to do yet better things than those: Idomeneus governs his Passions, and applies himself to regulate his People, yet he does not fail to commit a great many Faults still, which are the un∣happy Consequences of his Ancient Mistakes. When Men have a Mind to forsake an Evil, this Evil seems still to pursue 'em for a long time; Evil Habits, a weak Temper, in∣veterate Errors, and almost incurable Prejudices still attend 'em. Happy are they who have never thus wan∣der'd, they may be able to do good, after a more perfect manner. O Telemachus, the Gods will require more of you than of Idomeneus; be∣cause you have been acquainted with the Truth from your Youth, and have never been deliver'd up to the seductions of too great Prosperity.

Idomeneus, continued Mentor, is Wise and Sagacious, but he applies himself too much to the Detail, and does not enough meditate on the Bo∣dy of his Affairs. That Capacity of Governing, which is more than Hu∣mane, does not consist in doing all on's self. 'Tis a gross piece of Va∣nity, to hope by this means to ob∣tain one's end, or to endeavour to perswade the World, one is capable of it. A King ought to Govern in chusing and conducting those who govern under him; he is not to des∣cend into every particular Matter; this is to discharge the Function of those whose business it is to labour under him. He ought only to take of 'em an Account of these things; and to know enough of 'em, to be able to enter into the Account with Judgment. There is a wonderful Art in Governing by chusing, and applying those that are under ones Government, according to their se∣veral Talents; by Judging of 'em,

Correcting 'em, Moderating 'em, and Inspiring 'em with good Con∣duct. For a Prince to go about to Examin every thing himself, is to shew Distrust, littleness of Mind, and a Jealousie about mean and mi∣nute Matters, which consumes that Time and Liberty of Mind which is necessary for great Things. To form great Designs, there is need of a free and sedate Mind; so as to be able to think at one's Ease in an en∣tire disengagement from all Dispatch∣es of perplexing Affairs. A Mind exhausted by the detail of Things, is like the Lees of Wine, which is void both of Strength and Pleasant∣ness. They who govern by the de∣tail, are always determined by the present, without extending their Views to a distant Futurity; they are always taken up with the Affair of the present Day, and that Affair alone possessing them, they are too much impress'd by it; for there is no passing a sound Judgment on

Things without comparing 'em all together, and placing 'em in a cer∣tain Order, that their Connexion and Proportion may be seen. To omit to follow this Rule in Government, is to be like a Musician who should content himself in finding harmoni∣ous Sounds, and never give himself the trouble to Unite and Connex 'em together, to compose sweet and ravish∣ing Musick. Or like an Architect that thinks his business done, provi∣ded he heap great Pillars, and abun∣dance of hewn Stones together, with∣out thinking of the Order and Pro∣portion of the Ornaments of his Building; at a time when a Parlour is to be made, he thinks not of ma∣king a suitable Stare-case; when he works on the Body of the Build∣ing, he thinks neither of the Court nor the Portal: His Work is no∣thing but a confus'd Collection of Magnificent Parts, which are not made one for the other; such a Work as this is so far from doing him Ho∣nour,

that it will prove a Monu∣ment to eternize his Shame; for it shews, That this Workman had not a sufficient Compass of Thought, to conceive at once, the general Design of his whole Work; which is the Character of a short-sighted and sub∣altern Mind. When a Man is Born with a Genius limited to Particulars, he is only proper to execute Affairs under another. Make no doubt of it, O my dear Telemachus, the Go∣vernment of a Kingdom requires a certain Harmony like that of Mu∣sick, and Just Proportions, as well as Architecture. If you please, I will again make use of the Compa∣rison of these Arts, and make you understand how mean those Persons are who Govern by the detail. He who in a Consort, sings only some certain Parts, tho' he sings 'em per∣fectly well, is no more than a Sing∣er; he only who conducts the whole Consort, and at once regulates all the Parts of it, is the Master of Mu∣sick.

In like manner he that Carves Pillars, or raises one side of a Build∣ing, is but a Carver or Mason; but he only who contrives this whole E∣difice, and has all its proportions in his Head is the Architect; so those who are labouring and making Dis∣patches, and do the most Business, are such as Govern the least; these are but the subaltern Work-men. The true Genius that conducts a State, is he who while he dies no∣thing himself, causes every thing to be done; who Thinks, who De∣signs, who sees what is future, who reflects on what is past, who dispo∣ses and proportions Things, who makes early Preparations, who in∣cessantly makes head against, and grapples with the Obstructions which Fortune throws in his Way; as a Swimmer stems a swist Torrnt of Water. Who gives attention Night and Day, that he may leave nothing to the disposal of Chance. Do you think Telemachus, that a great Pain∣ter

assiduously labours from Morn∣ning to Night, the most speedily to expedite his Work? No, this Sla∣very and Subjection would extinguish the Flame of his Fancy; he would no longer work from a regular Ge∣nius; all must be done with a kind of Irregularity, and by Sallies, ac∣cording as his Gust conducts him, and his Mind excites him. Do you believe that he spends his Time in pounding of Colours, and preparing of Pencils? No, this is the Business of his Servants, and he reserves to himself the Business of Thought and Contrivance; he ponders on nothing but how to make bold Strokes, that may give Sweetness, a Noble Air, Life, and Passion to his Figures. He has in his Head the Thoughts and Sentiments of those Hero's he is a∣bout to represent. He is transported into the Ages wherein they lived, and puts himself into all the Cir∣cumstances that have attended 'em. To this kind of Enthusiasm, he

must join a sort of Wisdom that must restrain him; that all may be True, Correct, and one thing pro∣portionable to another. Do you think, Telemachus, that less Eleva∣tion of Mind, and Effort of Thought is necessary to make a great Prince, than to make a good Painter? Con∣clude then, that the Business of a King is to think, and to make choice of others to labour.

Telemachus reply'd; methinks I comprehend all you have been say∣ing to me; but if Things were thus manag'd, a King would be of∣ten deceiv'd for not entring him∣self into the particularities of Things. No, 'tis you that are deceiv'd, re∣plyed Mentor, That which hinders a Prince from being impos'd on, is the General Knowledge of Govern∣ment. Those that have not Prin∣ciples to guide 'em in Affairs, and have not a true discerning of the Minds of Men, go always as it were, groping in the Dark; and

'tis owing to Chance, if they are not mistaken. They don't so much as know precisely what it is they are seeking for, norwhich way they ought to steer: They only know how to be diffident; and they sooner di∣strust those that are so Honest as to contradict 'em, than Deceivers that flatter 'em. On the contrary, they that have Principles of Government, and are well skill'd in Men, know what they ought to aim at, and the Means to attain it; they know at least in gross, whether the Persons they make Use of, are proper In∣struments for their Designs; and whether they conceive ther Intenti∣ons so far as to be able to tend to the end they propose. Besides, see∣ing they do not cast themselves in∣to perplexing Details, they have their Minds more free to discover the Body of the Work at one View, and to observe whether it advances towards its Principal End; and if they make any Mistakes, at least they

can scarce ever happen to be essen∣tial ones. Again, they are above those little Jealousies, that are Signs of a narrow Spirit, and mean Soul; they very well understand, that there is no avoiding being deceiv'd in great Affairs; because 'tis necessa∣ry to employ Men in 'em, who so often prove deceitful. But more may be lost by that Irresolution, into which Diffidence casts a Man, than would be lost by suffering one's self to be in some degree deceiv'd. He is very Happy, who is deceiv'd only in Things of a mean Consideration; great ones will not fail to come to an Issue, not withstanding that. And 'tis this only the Mind of a great Man should be concern'd about. He ought severely to repress Deceit, when 'tis discover'd; but 'tis ne∣cessary to reckon upon meeting with some Deceit, if a Man would not be really deceiv'd.

In fine, says Mentor to Telema∣chus, the Gods love you, and pre∣pare you a Reign, which shall a∣bound with Wisdom. All that you see here is not so much done for the Glory of Idomeneus as for your In∣struction; all these wise Establish∣ments, that you admire in Salentune, are but the Shadow of what you shall one Day make in Ithaca, if your Virtues answer the height of your Destiny. 'Tis time for us to think of going hence; Idomeneus keeps a Vessel ready for our Return. Thus Mentor, who regulated the Mo∣ments of Telemachus his Life, to raise him to the highest pitch of Glory, stay'd him only so long in each Place, as was necessary to Exercise his Virtue, and furnish him with Experience.

Upon this, Telemachus open'd his Heart to his Friend, tho' with some difficulty concerning an Inclination he had, which made him regret Sa∣lentum. You will blame me, said he,

for too easily giving way to some engaging Impression or other, in the Places through which I pass; but my Heart would make me continu∣al Reproaches, if I should conceal from you that I love Antiope the Daughter of Idomeneus. No, my dear Mentor, 'tis not a blind Passion, like that of which you Cur'd me in the Island of Calypso; I know very well the depth of the Wound Love made in my Soul, in the company of Eucharis; I cannot yet pronounce her Name, without a sensible trou∣ble; Time and Absence have not been able to efface it from my Heart. This, fatal Experience has taught me to distrust my self. But as for Anti∣ope, what I feel on her Account, has nothing like it; 'tis not a passionate Love; 'tis Judgment, 'tis Esteem, 'tis a Persuasion that I should be Happy in spending my Life with her. If ever the Gods restore my Father to me, and permit me to chuse a Wife, Antiope shall be the

Person; that in her which moves me, is her Silence, her Modesty; her Reservedness, her Labour in working of Wool, and Embroi∣dery, her Application in the whole Management of her Father's House, since the death of her Mother, her Contempt of vain and gaudy Trimmings, that Forgetfulness, if not Ignorance of her own Beau∣ty that appears in her. When Idomeneus commands her to lead the Dances of the young Ladies of Crete, at the sound of Flutes, one would take her for a smiling Ve∣nus; she is attended with so many Graces. When he carries her a Hunting with him into the Forest, she appears Majestick and Dextrous at drawing the Bow, like Diana in the midst of her Nymphs; only her self does not know it, while all the World admires her. When she en∣ters into the Temples of the Gods, and carries the sacred Offerings on her Head in Baskets, one would

think she were the Deity that in∣habits those Temples. With what Fear, and with what Devotion have we seen her offer Sacrifices; and avert the Anger of the Gods, when some Fault was to be expiated, or some unhappy Presage prevented? In fine, when one sees her with a Company of her Women, holding a golden Needle in her Hand; one would think Minerva her self were come upon Eaith in a Human form, to inspire Mankind with curious Arts: She excites others to work; she renders tedious Labour pleasant to 'em by the sweetness of her Voice, when she sings all the marvellous Histories of the Gods: She surpasses the most exquisite Painting by the delicacy of her Embroideries. Hap∣py will that Man be whom chear∣ful Hymen shall unite with her! He'll have nothing to fear, unless it be to lose her, and survive her. My dear Mentor, I here take the Gods to witness, that I am ready to be gone:

I shall love Antiope as long as I live, but she shall not retard my return to Ithaca one moment. If another should enjoy her, I should pass the rest of my Days in Sorrow and Bit∣terness. But in fine, I am resolv'd to leave her, tho' I know Absence may make me lose her. I am un∣willing to declare my Love. either to her, or to her Father; because I think I ought to mention it to none but you, till Ulysses re-ascend his Throne, and give me his Con∣sent. You may know by all this, my dear Mentor, how different this Inclination of mine is from that Pas∣sion with which you saw me blind∣ed for Eucharis.

O Telemachus, reply'd Mentor, I grant there is a difference. Antiope is mild, sincere and wise; her hands disdain not to labour; she forefees Things at a great distance; she makes Provision for every Thing; she knows how to be silent, and acts regularly without Precipitation;

she is continually employ'd, but never embarass'd, because she does every thing to good purpose. The good Order of her Father's House is her Glory, and is a greater Ornament to her than her Beauty it self, tho' the Care and Burden of all lies upon her; so that she reproves, refuses, and spares as she pleases; (things which make almost all other Wo∣men hated) she has render'd her self amiable to the whole House; 'tis be∣cause they find in her, neither Pas∣sion, nor Caprice, nor Levity, nor Humour, as in other Women: She knows how to make her self under∣stood only with a glance of her Eye, and every one is afraid to displease her. The Orders she gives are Ex∣presses, and she commands nothing, but what may be perform'd; she reproves with kindness, and even encourages to do well in the time of her Reproof. The Heart of her Fa∣ther rests upon her; as a Traveller upon whose Head the Rays of the

Sun have long beaten with violence, takes sweet Repose upon the tender Grass. You are in the right, Tele∣machus. Antiope is a Treasure wor∣thy to be sought for in the remot'st Countries; her Mind is never deck'd with vain Ornaments any more than her Body; her Fancy, tho' full of Vivacity, is restrain'd by her Discre∣tion; she never speaks but when 'tis necessary, and when she opens her Mouth, soft Language, and the Graces, in their native Simplicity, flow from her Lips. When she speaks, every body else is silent; she her self blushes, and could find in her heart to suppress what she was about to say, when she perceives with what Attention she is heard. For our parts, we have scarce heard her speak. You may remember, Te∣lemachus, when her Father one day made her come in, how she appear'd with her Eyes toward the Ground, cover'd with a large Veil; and only spoke to moderate the Anger of Ido∣meneus,

when he was about to in∣flict a rigorous Punishment on one of his Slaves. At first she took part with him in his Trouble; then she calm'd him; at last she made him understand what might be alledg'd in excuse of the poor Wretch; and without letting the King know he was too much transported with Pas∣sion, she inspir'd him with Sentiments of Justice and Compassion. Thetis when she Caresses old Nereus, does not appease the Floods with more sweetness. Thus Antiope, with∣out assuming any Authority, and without making a show of her Charms, will one day manage the Heart of her Husband; as she now touches her Lyre, when she would draw from it the softest harmonious Sounds. Once again, I tell you, Te∣lemachus, your Love to her is reaso∣nable and just, the Gods design her for you. You love her with a ra∣tional Affection; but you must wait till Ulysses grant her to you. I com∣mend

you for not having discover'd your Sentiments to her; and know that if you had by the by taken oc∣casion to let her know your 〈◊〉〈◊〉 she would have rejected 'em, and ceas'd to have had a value for you. She will never promise her self to any one, but will leave her self to the Disposal of her Father; she will never be married to any one who does not fear the Gods, and who does not demean himself ac∣cording to all the strictest Rules of Decency. Have you not observ'd as well as I, that she glances her Eyes less, and inclines 'em toward the Ground more since our return? She knows all the Successes that has attended you in War; she is not ignorant of your Birth, or of your Adventures, or of all that the Gods have confer'd on you; and 'tis this that renders her so modest and re∣serv'd. Come, let us go, Telemachus, let us go toward Ithaca; there now remains nothing more for me to do

for you, but to bring you to your Father; and to put you into a Condition to obtain a Bride wor∣thy of the Golden Age: If she were a Shepherdess in the cold Algidus, as she is the Daughter of a King of Salentum, you would be a very happy Man in the Enjoyment of her.

These words inflam'd the Heart of Telemachus, with an impatient de∣sire of returning into Ithaca. The Vessel was ready, Mentor had taken care to cause it to be prepar'd for him presently after his Arrival. But Idomeneus, who could not without a great deal of reluctancy see him prepare for his Voyage, fell into a mortal Sorrow, and a deplorable Melancholy, when he saw these two Guests, who had been so use∣ful to him, about to forsake him. He shut himself up in the most se∣cret Apartments of his House; where he gave vent to his Grief in sighing and pouring out Floods of Tears;

he forgot to Eat, and Sleep could no longer charm his piercing Sor∣rows; he consum'd and pin'd away in this uneasie Condition, like a great Tree, whose Boughs are large and thick, when a Worm begins to gnaw the Stock of it in those fine Channels, which convey the Sap to nourish all the Parts of it: This Tree which the Winds could never unsettle, and which the fruitful Earth was pleas'd to nourish in her Bosom; which was never wounded by the Country-man's Axe, cannot chuse but languish, while the cause of its decay remains undiscover'd; 'tis wither'd and stript of its Leaves that were its Glory and Ornament; it has nothing now to shew but its Trunk cover'd with a Back full of Chaps and Flaws, together with dry and sapless Branches. Thus was it with Idomeneus in his Sorrow. Telemachus was melted, but durst not speak to him; he fear'd the day of his Departure; he sought pre∣texts

to retard it, and would have continued for a considerable time in this uncertainty; had not Mentor spoken to him after this manner: I am glad, says he, to see you so much alter'd; you were naturally rigid and haughty, not suffering your self to be mov'd by any thing but your own Interest and Advantage; but you are at length become humane; and the experience of your own Misfortunes makes you begin to Sympathize with others under like Circumstances. Without this Com∣passion a Man has neither Vertue nor Goodness, nor Capacity to go∣vern Men; but you must not push it too far, so as to fall into a weak sort of Friendship. I would wil∣lingly speak to Idomeneus, to en∣gage him to consent to your De∣parture; and would spare you the trouble of so perplexing a Dis∣course; but I would not have an unbecoming Shame and Rudeness bear the sway in your Mind; you

ought to use your self to mix Cou∣rage and firmness of Mind with a tender and sensible Friendship; you ought to be afraid of afflicting Men without necessity; you should share with 'em in their Troubles when you can't avoid making 'em uneasy; and moderate that Blow the most you can, which 'tis impossible for you entirely to spare. 'Tis to give such an Alleviation to the Grief of Idomoneus, answer'd Telemachus, that I should choose to have him know the time of our departure from your Mouth, rather than from mine. To which Mentor immedi∣ately return'd. You are under mistake, my dear Telemachus. You are like the Children of Kings who are tenderly brought up in Purple; they would have every thing done after their own Fashion, and would have Nature intirely yield Obedience to their Humors, and yet have not Courage enough to oppose any one to his Face. 'This not that they

care so much for Mankind; nor that they have so much Goodness as to be afraid of afflicting them; but all they do is for their own Con∣veniency. They are not willing to see sad and discontented Counte∣nances round about 'em: The Trou∣bles and Miseries of Men do not affect them, provided they are not before their Eyes, or sounding in their Ears; for Discourses on such Subjects give 'em Trouble and Uneasiness. To please 'em they must always be told that every thing goes well; and while they are surrounded with Pleasures, they are not willing to see or hear any thing that may inter∣rupt their Mirth: If there be occa∣sion to reprove, or correct any one, to oppose the Pretensions and Passi∣ons of a troublesome Man, they will rather give Commission to another to do it, than speak themselves with a sedate steadiness of Mind. On such Occasions they would be ready to suffer the most unjust Favours to

be extorted from 'em, and would spoil the most important Affairs, for want of knowing how to determine against the Sentiments of those with whom they have to do every Day. This Weakness which is found in 'em, puts every one upon thinking only how to make an improvement of it. Thy press and importune 'em; they weary 'em out, and suc∣ceed in so doing. Again they flat∣ter and extol 'em to the Stars, to in∣sinuate themselves the better; but when they are become their Confi∣dents, and are plac'd near 'em in Employs of some considerable Au∣thority, they lead 'em a great way, they impose the Yoke on 'em, un∣der which they Groan, and which they would often shake off, but are forc'd to bear as long as they live. They are so jealous of their Autho∣rity, that they can't endure to be thought to be govern'd by others; but in reality are always under ma∣nagement; and indeed they know

not how to be without it. For they are like those feeble Vines, which are not able to support themselves, and therefore always twist them∣selves about the Trunk of some great Tree. I cannot suffer you, O Telemachus, to fall into this Fault, which renders a Man so weak for Government. You who are so ten∣der as not to dare to speak to Idome∣neus, will be no longer touch'd with his Sorrows, when you are once got out of Salentum. 'Tis not so much his Trouble that softens you, as 'tis his Presence that embarasses you, Go speak to Idomeneus, and learn on this Occasion to be resolv'd and ten∣der at the same time. Let him know the Trouble you feel in parting from him; but let him know at the same time by the decisive tone of your Voice, the necessity of your depar∣ture.

Telemachus durst neither any long∣er oppose Mentor, nor go to Idome∣neus; he was asham'd of his Fear,

and yet had not the Courage to sur∣mount it; he hesitated, made a step or two, and then return'd immedi∣ately to alledge to Mentor some new reason of delay. But Mentor's Look alone depriv'd him of Speech, and made all his fair Pretences disappear. And is this, says Mentor smiling, the great Conqueror of the Daunians? The Deliverer of the great Hesperia? The Son of the wise Ulysses, who is to be the Oracle of Greece after him? Who knows not how to tell Idome∣neus, that he can no longer defer his return into his Country, to see his Father? O ye People of Ithaca, how miserable will you one Day be, if you have a King whose Mind is under the Dominion of an unbe∣coming Shame; and who will sacri∣fice his greatest Interests to his Weak∣nesses in matters of the smallest Con∣sequence! See Telemachus, what a difference there is between Valour in the Field, and Courage in the Court. You have not fear'd the

Arms of Adrastus, and yet you are now afraid of the Sorrows of Ido∣meneus. This is that which disho∣nours Princes who have done the greatest Feats; after they have ap∣pear'd to be Heroes in War, they shew themselves the meanest of Men on common Occasions, where∣in others support themselves with Vigour. Telemachus convinc'd of the Truth of these Words, and spur'd on with this Reproach, went out hastily, and would no longer give ear to his Affections. But he was scarce come into the Room where Idomeneus was sitting with dejected Eyes, languishing and over∣whelm'd with Sorrow, but they were both afraid of each other. They durst not look on one another; they understood one another without say∣ing any Thing; and each was afraid that the other would break Silence; both of 'em fell a Weeping, and in fine, Idomeneus press'd with excess of Sorrow, cried out, To what purpose

is Vertue sought after if she so ill requites those that Love her? Af∣ter my Weakness is remonstrated to me, I am forsaken. If it be so, I must e'ne fall back into all my Mis∣fortunes: Speak no more to me of Governing well, I am not able to do it. I am weary of Men. Whe∣ther will you go Telemachus? Your Father is Dead. You in vain seek after him. Ithaca is become a Prey to your Enemies, they'll destroy you if you return thither; you'll find that one or other of 'em has married your Mother. Continue here, and Reign with me; at least leave Men∣tor with me; who is my only sup∣port. Speak, answer me, do not harden your Heart, have pity on the most miserable Man in the World. What do you say, nothing? Ah! I very well perceive how cruel the Gods are to me; I feel it even more severely than I did in Crete, when I was so unhappy as to pierce my own Son.

At last Telemachus answer'd with a disturb'd and timorous Voice, I am not my own, the Destinies call me back into my Country. Mentor, who has the Wisdom of the Gods, commands me in their Name to be gone. What would you have me do? Shall I renounce my Father, my Mother, and my Country, which ought to be dearer to me than my Life? Being Born to Roy∣alty, I am not destin'd to a calm and sedate Life, nor to follow my own Inclinations. Did you not promise me to send me back to Ithaca? Was it not upon this Promise that I fought for you against Adrastus with the Confederates? 'Tis time for me to think of retrieving my domestick Misfortunes. The Gods, who have given me to Mentor, have also given Mentor to the Son of Ulysses, to make him fill up the Decrees of the Fates. Would you have me lose Mentor, after having lost every Thing else? I have now neither Estate, nor Re∣treat,

nor Father, nor Mother, nor Countrey to receive me. I have on∣ly a Wise and Virtuous Man left me, who is the most precious Gift of Ju∣piter. Judge your self, if I can re∣nounce such a Treasure; and so a∣bandon my self to my own Conduct. No, I would sooner die. Take away my Life, that does not signifie much, but do not take Mentor from me.

As Telemachus went on to speak, his Voice grew stronger, and his Timorousness vanish'd. Idomeneus knew not what to answer, and could not tell how to consent to what the Son of Ulysses said. When he could no Ionger speak to him, he endea∣vour'd, at least by his Looks and Ge∣stures, to move his Compassion. At the same moment he saw Mentor ap∣pear, who very gravely address'd himself to him in these Terms. Do not afflict your self; we leave you. But Wisdom which presides in the Councils of the Gods, will always continue with you. Only believe

that you are very Happy, in that Ju∣piter has sent us hither to save your Kingdom, and to reduce you from your Mistakes. Philocles, whom we have restor'd to you, will serve you faithfully; the Fear of the Gods, the Relish of Virtue, the Love of the People, and Compassion for the Mi∣serable, will always Reign in his Heart. Hearke to these, and make use of him with Confidence, and without Jealousie: The greatest Service you can desire from him, is to oblige him to tell you your Faults, without any Extenuation. This is that in which the Courage of a good King consists, to seek true friends, who may point out to him his own Defects: Provided you have this kind of Resolution, our Absence can∣not hurt you, and you may live hap∣pily. But if Jealousie, which insinu∣ates it self like a Serpent, should a∣gain find a Way to your Heart, to make you distrust the most disinte∣rested Counsels, you are undone.

Don't suffer your self weakly to sink under Sorrow; but strenuously en∣deavour to follow the guidance of Virtue. I have told Philocles all that he ought to do for your assistance, and have caution'd him never to a∣buse your Confidence in him: I can undertake to answer for him. The Gods have given him to you, as they have given me to Telemachus. Every one ought Couragiously to follow his Destiny. 'Tis to no purpose to afflict your self: If ever you have need of my help, after I have re∣stor'd Telemachus to his Father, and his Country, I will come and see you again; and what can I do that can give me a more sensible Pleasure? I neither seek for Riches, nor Au∣thority upon Earth; all that I aim at is, to assist such as are enquiring after Justice and Virtue: And can I ever forget the Confidence you have put in me, and Friendship you have shewn me? At these Words, Idomeneus was quite alter'd, and

found his Mind appeas'd, and calm like the Sea, when Neptune with his Trident, quells the tumultuous Waves, and scatters the blackest Tempests. There only remain'd in him a calm and peaceable Sorrow; which was rather a tender senti∣ment of Regret, than a lively Passi∣on of Grief. Courage, Confidence, Virtue, and the hope of the assist∣ance of the Gods began to revive within him. Well then, said he, my dear Mentor, it seems one may lose every Thing, and yet not be discourag'd. At least, remember I∣domeneus, when you are arriv'd at Ithaca, where your Wisdom will Crown you with Prosperity: For∣get not that Salentum was your Work, and that you have left an Unfortunate King there, who has no Hope but in you: Farewell, O worthy Son of Ulysses, I'le no long∣er detain you; I am not willing to resist the Gods, who sent me so great a Treasure. And Farewell Mentor,

the wisest and greatest of all Man∣kind (if indeed a Human Creature is able to do what I have seen in you, and if you are not some Deity un∣der a borrow'd Form, to instruct Weak and Ignorant Men) Go, and conduct the Son of Ulysses, who is more happy in having you with him, than in having been the Con∣queror of Adrastus: Farewel both of you, I dare speak no more, for∣give my Sighs; Farewel, live, and be Happy; there now remains no∣thing more to me in the World, but the Remembrance that I once possess'd you. Oh pleasant Days, too happy Days! Days which I knew not how sufficiently to value; Days that have too swistly glided a∣way. You'l hever more return. My Eyes will never again see what they now behold.

Mentor suppos'd this Moment to be expir'd; he embrac'd Philocles, who bath'd him with his Tears, without being able to Speak. Te∣lemachus

went to take Mentor by the Hand, to take him out of the Hand of Idomeneus; but this last pressing towards the Door, placed himself between Mentor and Telemachus. He look'd upon 'em, he sigh'd; he be∣gan to speak, but his Words were cut off in the midst, so that he could not finish a Sentence.

Confus'd Cries were heard on the Shore, which was cover'd with Sea∣men; these fall to handling their Ropes, and spreading their Sales. A favourable Wind begins to present. Telemachus and Mentor take their leave of the King, who accompanies them to the Harbour, keeping his Eyes fixt on 'em; and having weigh∣ed Anchor, the Land seems to fly from 'em: The Experienced Pi∣lot perceives, at a distance, the Leu∣catian Mountains, whose Head hides it self in a Cloud of frozen Rime; and the Acroceraunian Hills, which still held up their proud Foreheads

to Heaven, tho' they have been so often torn with Thunder.

During this Voyage, Telemachus said to Mentor; methinks I now conceive the Methods of Govern∣ment which you have explain'd to me, at first, they seem'd to me like a Dream, but by degrees they unfold themselves in my Mind, and present themselves clearly to me. As all Objects seem cloath'd with Darkness at the first glimmerings of Aurora, and afterwards seem, as it were to come out of a Chaos, when the Light that increases insensibly, distinguish∣es them, and restores 'em their na∣tural Colours. I am perswaded that the Essential Point of Government is to discern well the different Inclina∣tions of the Minds of Men; to know how to make a prudent choice, and apply 'em to Business according to their respective Talents; but I want to know how to do this. He that knows this, is able to be well skill'd in Men. To this Mentor an∣swer'd.

swer'd. You must study Men if you would know 'em; you must Con∣verse and treat with 'em. They that govern ought to treat with their Sub∣jects, to make Proof of 'em by small Employments, of which they may make 'em render an Account, to try if they are capable of higher Fun∣ctions. How, my dear Telemachus, have you learn'd in Ithaca so much skill in Horses? It was by often see∣ing 'em, and by oserving both their Faults and good Properties, with Men that were experienced in 'em. Just so you should be so often speak∣ing of the Good and Evil Qualities of Men, with other wise and virtu∣ous Persons, who have long studied their Qualifications. You will in∣sensibly learn how they are made; and what you may expect from 'em. Who is it that taught you how to know Good and Bad Poets? It was frequent reading, and reflection with snch Persons as had a right Relish of Poesie. Who is it that acquir'd

for you that Judgment in Musick? It was the same Application of Mind in observing Musicians. How can any one hope to govern Men well, if he does not know 'em? and how can that be, if he never lives with 'em? To see 'em all in publick, is not to live with 'em, for on such Oc∣casions, there is scarce any thing said on one side or other, but about in∣different Things, and such as are prepar'd with Art. The great Bu∣siness is to Converse with them in private; to draw from the bottom of their Souls all the secret Springs that lie conceal'd there; to handle 'em on every side, and to sound their Maxims. But to judge well of Men, a Man should begin by knowing what they ought to be. He should know what true and solid Merit is, that he may discern those that have it from such as have it not. He ought to have certain Principles of Justice, Reason, and Vertue, by which to know who are Reasonable

and Vertuous; he should know the Maxims of a good and wife Govern∣ment, that he may know the Men that have these Maxims, and those that wander from 'em through a false Subtilty, In a Word, to take the Dimensions of many Bodies, one ought to have a fix'd Measure; and in like manner to judge well, one ought to have certain Principles to which all is reducible. A Man ought to know precisely what is the Design of Humane Life, and what end ought to be propos'd in govern∣ing Men. This only and essential 〈◊〉〈◊〉 is for a Man never to desire Authority and Grandeur for him∣self, which only tends to gratifie a Tyrannical Pride, but to Sacrifice himself in the Infinite Cares of Go∣vernment, to render Men Good and Happy. Otherwise he gropes in the Dark, and steps at a venture, through the whole Course of his Life. He goes like a Ship in a high Sea without a Pilot, which can't

consult the Stars, and to which all the noighbouring Coasts are un∣known, and therefore cannot choose but suffer Ship-wrack. Princes often for want of Knowledge, wherein true Virtue consists, are Ignorant of what they ought to look for in Men. True Virtue has something Rough, Austere, and Independant in it, which frights 'em; and so they turn themselves towards Flattery, and from that time they can find no Sincerity and Vertue; they soon ac∣custom themselves to believe, that there is no such thing in reality upon Earth; for tho' good Men very well know Ill Men, yet these do not know the Good, and can't tell how to be∣lieve there are any such to be found. Such Princes can do nothing but di∣strust every one alike, they conceal themselves, and shut up their Thoughts, and entertain Jealousie on the slightest Occasions; they are afraid of Mankind, they fly the Light; and dare not appear in that

posture of Mind that is Natural to 'em. Tho' they desire not to be known, they can't help being disco∣ver'd; for the malignant Curiosity of their Subjects penetrates and di∣vines every thing: But they know no body; those interess'd Creatures that are about 'em, are extreamly pleas'd to see 'em Inaccessible to o∣thers; and delight to blacken, by infamous Reports, all who are ca∣pable of opening their Eyes, and by this means, keep 'em always at a distance from 'em. They spend their Lives in a Savage and Barbarous kind of Grandeur: While they are incessantly afraid of being deceiv'd, they are always most certainly im∣pos'd on, and deserve so to be. When one speaks only to a small number of People, one is engag'd to receive all their Prejudices and Pas∣sions; one is at the mercy of Tale∣bearers, a base and malignant Gene∣ration of Men, who live upon Ve∣nom, and poison the most innocent

Things; that magnifie small Mat∣ters, and invent Evil rather than they will cease to do Mischief; that for their own Interest, play with the diffidence and unworthy Curio∣sity of a Weak and Jealous Prince. Inform your self therefore, O my dear Telemachus; inform your self of Men, Examine them, make them speak of one another; try them gra∣dually; deliver your self into the Hands of no Man; make improve∣ment of your Experience. When you have been deceiv'd, as sometimes you may happen to be in your Judgment; Learn by that not to Judge too hastily of any one, either in respect of Good or Evil; both are very dangerous: The Evil are too subtil not to surprize the Good by their false Glosses: Thus your past Errors will instruct you with great Advantage. When you have found any considerable Talents, and Vertue in a Man; make Use of him with Confidence. For Men of

Honour and Honesty, love to have their Integrity taken notice of; they value Esteem and Confidence above Treasures; but take care you do not spoil 'em, by giving 'em an unlimi∣ted Power; many a one might have been Virtuous who is not so, because his Master heap'd on him too much Authority and Wealth. He who is so far belov'd of the Gods, as to find in a whole Kingdom two or three true Friends, that are Men of solid Wisdom and Goodness, will, by their means, soon find other Persons that resemble 'em to fill up inferiour Pla∣ces. Thus a Prince, by a few good Men whom he can trust, learns that which it was not possible for him to discern himself alone.

But is it advisable, said Telema∣chus, to Employ Ill Men, when they have good Parts; as I have so often heard it is? Yes, says Mentor, Ne∣cessity often requires that they should be us'd. In a Nation that is in a Ferment and Disorder; there are

often found unjust and politick Men in Authority. They have Employ∣ments that can't be easily taken from 'em; they have acquir'd the Confi∣dence of some powerful Persons, who ought to be carefully manag'd. These wicked Men themselves must be ma∣nag'd with Caution, because there is reason to fear 'em, since they are ca∣pable of putting all Things in confu∣sion. 'Tis proper therefore to employ 'em for a time, but this still with a Design to render 'em useless by de∣grees; as for real and intimate Con∣fidence, beware of ever placing it in them, for they may abuse it, and hold you fast by the Secrets you have committed to 'em, in spight of all you can do; this is a Chain more hard to be broken than Fet∣ters of Iron. Make use of 'em for trivial Negotiations, treat 'em well, engage 'em by their Passions to be Faithful to you, for you'll never hold 'em any other way: But do not bring 'em into your most secret Deliberations, have some Spring al∣ways

ready to move 'em at your Pleasure, but never give 'em the Key of your Heart, and the know∣ledge of your secret Affairs. When a State comes to enjoy Peace, and good Order, and is under the Conduct of wise and good Men that you are sure of; those ill Men that you were constrain'd to Employ, will gradually become useless; and then you should not cease to treat 'em well; for you never ought to suffer your self to be ungrateful, even to ill Men. But in treating 'em well you ought to endeavour to make 'em Good; and while you tolerate certain Faults in 'em, which may be conniv'd at in humane Frail∣ty; those Evils nevertheless ought to be check'd which they would openly commit, if not restrained. After all, there is an Evil in the very Good that is done by ill Men; and tho this Evil often becomes inevita∣ble, 'tis however needful to endea∣vour to make it cease. A wise

Prince, who is pleas'd with nothing but good Order and Justice, will in time come to be able to lay aside corrupt and fraudulent Men. He'll find good Men enough of a suffici∣ent Capacity to serve him: But 'tis not enough for him to find good Subjects in a Nation; 'tis necessary he should form such himself. This, reply'd Telemachus, must greatly embarass one. Not at all, reply'd Mentor. Your Application in seek∣ing for able and vertuous Men to raise 'em, excites and animates such as have Capacity and Courage, so that every one puts himself forward in vertuous Actions. How many Men are there that languish in an ob∣scure and unactive Life, who would become great Men, if they were animated to Business by Emulation, and hope of Success? How many Men are there, who are Tempted, by their Misery and the incapacity they are in, to raise themselves by Virtue, to endeavour to advance

themselves by Crimes? If therefore you annex Rewards and Honours to Industry and Vertue, how many good Subjects will conform them∣selves? But what a number will you form, in making 'em ascend Step by Step, from the lowest to the highest Employments? You'll here∣by exercise their Talents, you'll try the extent of their Understandings, and the sincerity of their Vertue. Those that shall be advanc'd to the highest Places, will be such as have been brought up under your Obser∣vation. You will have trac'd 'em all your time; and will judge of 'em not by their Words, but by the whole Train of their Actions.

While Mentor was reasoning thus, they spy'd a Pheacian Vessel, that had put in at a small Island, which was desert and wild, and encom∣pass'd with prodigious Rocks. And now the Winds were silent, even the gentle Zephirs seem'd to hold their Breath; the whole Sea became

smooth like a Looking glass; the flagging Sails could no longer ani∣mate the Vessel; the Rowers than were already tir'd, now Labour'd to little Purpose. 'Twas therefore necessary to make Ashore on this Island, which indeed was rather a huge Rock than a habitable Place. In other Weather less Calm, there would be no approaching it without Danger. Those Pheasians who waited for the Wind, appear'd no less impatient to continue their Voy∣age, than the Salentines. Telema∣chus advances towards 'em upon this craggy Shore. He asks the first he meets with, whether he had not seen Ulysses King of Ithaca in the Palace.

This Person to whom he acciden∣tally addressed himself, was not a Pheacian, but an unknown Stranger, who had a majestick Air, but sad and dejected; he feem'd to be deep∣ly musing; and scarce heard Tele∣machus his Question at first; but at

length he thus answer'd. You are not mistaken, Ulysses has been re∣cieved by the King, as he ought to be in a place where Jupiter is fear'd, and Hospitality exercised; but he is not here now, and therefore 'tis to no purpose for you to seek him here; he is gone to see Ithaca again, if the appeas'd Deities will at last suffer him once again to Salute his dome∣stick Gods. This Stranger had scarce pronounced these Words with a melancholy Tone, but he threw himself into a little thick Wood that was on the top of a Rock, from whence he view'd the Sea with a sad Aspect; flying from all the Men he saw, and seeming troubled that he could not get away. Telemachus look'd intently on him, and the more he look'd, the more he was mov'd and astonished. This un∣known Person, said he to Mentor, has answer'd me, like one that can't hear a Man speak to him without Pain; and seems full of Grief and

Anguish. I bewail the Unfortunate, since I am so my self; and I find my Heart strongly engag'd to this Man, tho' I know not why. He has treated me rudely enough, and yet I can't choose but desire he may see the end of his Troubles. Mentor replied smiling, you see what the Miseries of this Life serve for; they render Princes Moderate, and sen∣sible of other Men's Afflictions; when they have never tasted any thing but the sweet Poyson of Pro∣sperity, they are ready to believe themselves Gods; they would have the Mountains become Plains to sa∣tisfie their Humour; they make no Account of Men; they would even sport with whole Nature; when they hear any one speak of Suffering, they know not what it means; 'tis a mere Dream to 'em; they have never seen the distance between Good and Evil. But Misfortunes alone may give 'em Humanity, and change their Hearts of Flint into

Hearts of Flesh; for then they feel they are but Men themselves, and that they ought to treat other Men kindly who are like themselves. If a Stranger moves your pity so much, because you find him wandering on this Shore like your self; how much more Compassion ought you to have for the People of Ithaca, if ye shall hereafter see 'em suffer? That Peo∣ple whom the Gods will commit to you, as a Flock to a Shepherd, will perhaps become Miserable by your Ambition, or Pride, or Impru∣dence; for the People seldom suffer but by the Faults of their Kings, whose Duty it is to watch over 'em, to secure 'em from Misery.

While Mentor was Speaking thus, Telemachus was overwhelm'd with Trouble, and at last reply'd. If all this be true, the Condition of a King is very Miserable. He is a Slave to all those he seems to Command; he is not so much made to Com∣mand 'em, as he is made for them;

he owes himself entirely to 'em; he is loaded with all their Cares; he is the Man to whom all the People together, and every one in particu∣lar, has a Right; he must accom∣modate himself to their Weaknesses, Correct 'em like a Father, render 'em wise and happy; the Autho∣rity he seems to have is not his own; he can do nothing, either for his own Glory, or his own Pleasure, his Authority is that of the Laws, he must obey them to give a good Ex∣ample to his Subjects: In a Word, he is only the Defender of the Laws, to make them Reign; he must Watch and Labour to maintain 'em. He has the least Liberty and Tran∣quility of any Man in his Kingdom. 'Tis very true, reply'd Mentor, a King is made King only to take care of his People, as a Shepherd does of his Flock, or as a Father does of his Family. But, my dear Telemachus, don't think it hard for him to go through some

Trouble to be in a capacity to do good to so many People. He Re∣forms ill Men by Punishments, en∣courages good Men by Rewards; he represents the Gods, in thus leading all sorts of Men to Vertue; has he not Glory enough in causing the Laws to be observ'd? That of set∣ting himself above the Laws, is but a false Glory, that produces nothing but Horror and Contempt. If he be given to Vice, he can't but be miserable; for he can find no Tran∣quillity in his Thoughts, no real Sa∣tisfaction; if he be good, he tastes the most pure and solid of all Plea∣sures in labouring for Vertue, there∣by expecting an eternal Recompense from the Gods.

Telemachus oppos'd to these Rea∣sons, Man's Ingratitude. What, said he, to take so much Pains to gain the Love of those Men, who perhaps will never love you, and to shew Kindness to such vile Persons as will perhaps turn the Favours

you confer on 'em against you, to do you a Mischief? Mentor answer∣ed, You must expect to meet with Ingratitude from Men, and yet not cease to do 'em good: You ought to serve 'em not so much for their own sake, as out of love to the Gods who command it: The good you do is never lost; if Men forget it, the Gods remember and reward it: Besides, if the Multitude be ingrate∣ful, there are always some vertuous Men that will be affected with your Vertue; nay, the very Multitude, as changeable as they are, do not fail to do some kind of Justice to Vertue: But would you hinder Men from being ingrateful? Do not endeavour only to make 'em powerful, rich, and formidable by Arms, and happy by Pleasures; this Glory and this Plenty corrupt 'em, they will be but the more wicked, and consequently the more ingrate∣ful; but apply your self to inform their Manners, and to inspire 'em

with Justice, Sincerity, the fear of the Gods, Humanity, Fidelity, Mo∣deration, and Disinteressedness: In making 'em good, you'll hinder 'em from becoming ingrateful: You'll give 'em the true Good, which is Vertue; which if it be solid, will always engage 'em to him who has inspir'd 'em with it. It is to be wonder'd at, that Men should be ingrateful to such Princes as never shew'd 'em the way to any thing but Injustice, Ambition, and Jea∣lousie, Inhumanity, Pride, and Treachery, against their Neigh∣bours? A Prince ought to expect no∣thing of 'em, but what himself has taught 'em. But if on the contra∣ry he has labour'd both by his Ex∣ample and Authority, to make 'em good, he'll find the Fruit of his La∣bour in their Vertues, or at least he'll find enough to consolate him in his own, and in the Friendship of the Gods. During this Discourse, Telemachus often turn'd his Eyes to∣ward

the Sea, which began to be agitated; the Winds stirr'd up the Waves, and beat 'em against the Rocks, which were whitened with their Foam. The Ship Sails were immediately swell'd with Wind; a confus'd Noise of the Seamen was heard on the Shore, occasion'd by the warmth and impatience they were in to put to Sea. That un∣known Person with whom Telema∣chus had spoken, had been sometime in the midst of the Island, climbing up to the Tops of the Rocks, and thence viewing all the immense spa∣ces of the Sea, with a profound de∣jection of Mind: Telemachus had not lost sight of him, but continu∣ally observ'd his Motions. In fine, this Man seeing the Vessel he be∣long'd to ready to sail, descended from those craggy Rocks with as much speed and agility, as Apollo in the Forests of Lycia, when he has tied up his white Locks, traverses the Precipices with his Arrows to

pierce the Stags and wild Boars. This unknown Person soon gets a∣board the Vessel, which cuts the brackish Waters, and flies from the Land. A secret Impression of Sor∣row seizes the Heart of Telemachus; he afflicts himself without knowing for what Reason. The Tears run down from his Eyes, and nothing seems so pleasant to him as Weep∣ing: At the same time he perceives all the Mariners of Salentum lying upon the Grass, and in a sound sleep. They were weary and dispirited; and sweet Sleep had insinuated it self into all their Limbs; the Poppies of the Night were by the Power of Minerva strew'd upon 'em in the middle of the Day. Telema∣chus was amaz'd to see this univer∣sal Drowziness of the Salentines; while the Phenicians were so dili∣gent to make their advantage of a favourable Wind: But he was yet more engag'd in viewing the Pheni∣cian Ship, ready to disappear in the

midst of the Waves, than in going towards the Salentines to waken 'em. Something or other there was that held his Eyes fix'd on the Vessel that was already parted, of which he could now see nothing but the Sails, whose Whiteness he could just di∣stinguish from the azure Sky. He is so intent, that he does not so much as hear Mentor speak to him. He is transported beyond himself, in an Extasie like that of the Me∣nades, at the Feast of Bacchus, when they hold the Thyrsus in their hands, and make their frantick Cries eccho on the Banks of the Hebre, and on Mount Rhodopus and Ismarus.

At last he recover'd himself a lit∣tle from this sort of Enchantment, and the Tears again began to flow from his Eyes. Upon this, says Mentor to him; I don't wonder, my dear Telemachus, to see you Weep; the cause of your Sorrow, tho' un∣known to your self, is not unknown to Mentor. 'Tis Nature that speaks,

and makes her self felt; 'tis she that melts your Heart. The Stranger who gave you such a lively Emo∣tion, is no other than the great Ulysses; he is going to Ithaca, and is already very near the Harbour, and at last sees again that so long desir'd Place. Your Eyes have seen him, as it was formerly predicted to you, but without knowing who he was. You shall soon see him and know him, and he shall know you; but now the Gods did not think fit to permit you to know one another out of Ithaca. His Heart was mov'd no less than yours; but he is too Wise to discover himself to any Mortal, in a Place where he might be expos'd to Treachery, and to the Pursuits of Penelope's Lovers. Ulys∣ses, of all Men, his Heart is like a deep Well, there is no drawing any of his Secrets out of it. He loves Truth, and never speaks any thing that stifles it; but he does not speak it but on those occasions, when Con∣veniency

and Wisdom require it. He keeps his Lips always clos'd up as it were with a Seal, from utter∣ing any useless Word. How often was he moved in speaking to you? How often did he put a restraint on himself, that he might not dis∣cover himself to you? And what has he not suffer'd in seeing you? It was this that render'd him so sad and dejected.

During this Discourse, Telema∣chus was so melted and troubled, that he could not hinder a Torrent of Tears from gushing out; his Sighs prevented him for a time from returning an Answer, At last he cry'd out, Alass! my dear Mentor, I found something powerful (which I can't tell how to utter) in that Stranger which attracted me to him, and made an Emotion in all my Bowels: Why did you not tell me before he went away, that it was Ulysses, seeing you knew him? Why did you let him go without speak∣ing

to him, and without signifying that you knew him? What is the Mystery of this? Shall I always be Unhappy? Will the provok'd Gods hold me still in suspense like thirsty Tantalus, who is amus'd and flatter'd by the deceitful Water, which still glides away from his Lips? O Ulys∣ses, Ulysses! have you escap'd me for ever? Perhaps I shall never see you more: Perhaps Penelope's Lo∣vers will take him by the Ambushes they prepar'd for me. If I had fol∣low'd him, I had at least died with him. O Ulysses! O Ulysses! if no Storm dashes you again against some Rock, (for I have every thing to fear from adverse Fortune) I trem∣ble lest when you arrive at Ithaca, your Lot should be as fatal as that of Agamemnon at Mycene. But why, dear Mentor, did you envy my Hap∣piness? I should now have been em∣bracing him, I should have been al∣ready with him in the Port of Itha∣ca; and we should have fought

together to conquer all our Ene∣mies.

Says Mentor, smiling; 'Tis to ex∣ercise your Patience that the Gods hold you thus in suspense: You look upon this time as lost; but know that 'tis the most useful part of your whole Life; for it exercises you in that Vertue, which of all others is the most necessary for such as are to Govern. You must be Patient, if you would become Master of your self, and of others. Impatience, which seems to be the force and vigour of the Soul, is but a Weakness: He that knows not how to wait and suffer, is like him that knows not how to keep a Secret in his Breast; both of 'em want strength and firm∣ness of Mind to restrain themselves; as a Man who runs along in a Cha∣riot, and has not a hand strong e∣nough to stop his fiery Coursers when he should; so that they no longer obey the Bridle, but run down a Precipice, and the weak

Man that cannot check 'em is dash∣ed in pieces by the Fall. Thus an impatient Man is hurried along, by his wild and furious Desires into an Abyss of Miseries; the greater his Power is, the more fatal is his Impatience to him; he'll wait for nothing, he will not give himself Time to take any Measures; he forces all Things, to satisfie his Wishes: He breaks the Boughs to gather the Fruit before 'tis Ripe: He breaks down the Gates rather than to wait till they are open'd; he will needs Reap, when the wise Husband-man is Sowing. All he does in haste is ill done; and can have no longer duration than his volatile Desires. Such as these, such as these are the senseless Projects of that Man who thinks he is able to do every Thing; and who gives him∣self up to his Desires to abuse his Power. 'Tis to teach you to be Patient, my dear Telemachus, that the Gods exercise your Patience so

much. The Good you hope for shews it self to you, and flies from you like a fleeting Dream which vanishes as soon as a Man awakes; to shew you that the very Things you think you possess in your Hands, may escape you in an Instant. The wisest Lessons you can have from the Mouth of Ulysses, will not be so useful to you as his long absence, and the Troubles you undergo in seeking him.

Telemachus heard all this with a Mind full of Anguish; he look'd upon the Sea, but could no longer see the 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Ship: Then he turn'd his Eyes, flowing with Tears, to∣ward Mentor who was speaking to him; when all on a sudden he per∣cieved Mentor take a new Form. The Wrinkles of his Forehead vanish'd, as the Shades of Night disappear when Aurora with her rosy Fringes opens the Gates of the East, and in∣flames the whole Horizon: His hollow and austere Eyes became

Blew and full of heavenly Sweet∣ness, and shin'd with a divine Flame; his gray and neglected Beard disap∣pear'd; and noble and majestick Li∣neaments mix'd with Sweetness and Grace presented themselves to Tele∣machus his wondering Eyes. He saw a Woman's Countenance with a Complexion finer than that of a tender Flower when newly Blown before the Sun. He saw the white of Lillies mix'd with the red of blooming Roses, and an eternal Youth with a simple and unaffected Majesty flourishing on this heaven∣ly Countenance. The sweet Scent of Ambrosia spread it self from the flowing Hairs of this glorious Per∣son, whose Garments shin'd like those lively Colours with which the rising Sun paints the gloomy Arches of Heaven, and the Clouds when he has been gilding them. This Deity did not set a Foot upon the Ground, but lightly glided along through the Air, as a Bird cleaves

it with its Wings. In her Hand she held a glittering Spear, capable of making the most warlike Cities and Nations tremble. Mars himself would have been Terrified at it; her Voice was sweet and moderate, but strong and insinuating; all her Words were so many Darts of Fire, that pierc'd the Heart of Telemachus, and made him feel a strange kind of delicious Sorrow. Upon her Helmet appear'd the mournful Bird of Athens; and on her Breast there shin'd a formidable Breast-plate. By these Marks Telemachus knew it was Minerva.

O Goddess, says he, 'tis you then your self who have daign'd to con∣duct the Son of Ulysses for his Fa∣ther's sake. He would have added more, but his Voice fail'd him; his Lips in vain endeavour'd to ex∣press those Thoughts, that came with Impetuosity from his Mouth, and from the very bottom of his Heart. The Presence of a Deity

overwhelm'd him; so that he was like a Man in a Dream, oppress'd to that degree, that he loses Re∣spiration, and cannot form a Voice by all the troublesome Agitation of his Lips.

In fine, Minerva pronounc'd these Words; O Son of Ulysses, hearken to me this last time! I never in∣structed any Mortal with so much Wisdom as I have done you: I have led you by the Hand through Ship∣wracks, unknown Countries, Bloo∣dy Wars, and all the hard Adven∣tures that can terrifie the Heart of Man; I have by sensible Experien∣ces, shewn you the true and false Maxims by which you may Reign. Your Faults have been no less use∣ful to you than your Misfortunes; for where is the Man who can go∣vern wisely, if he has never suf∣fer'd any Hardship, or has never gain'd any thing by his Sufferings, into which his Faults have precipi∣tated him? You, as well as your

Father have fill'd Sea and Land with your terrible Adventures. Go, you are now worthy to follow his Steps; there remains nothing more but an Easie passage for you in∣to Ithaca, where your Father is this very moment arriving: Go, fight un∣der him with as much Obedience as the meanest of his Subjects; and there∣by give others a good Example. He'l procure Antiope for your Bride, and you shall be happy with her, for ha∣ving sought her for her Wisdom and Virtue more than for her Beauty. When you come to Reign, make it all your Glory to renew the Golden Age: Hear every body, believe ve∣ry few, have a care of believing your self too much; be afraid of imposing on your self; but never fear to let others see you have been mistaken. Love your People, forget nothing that may engage 'em to love you. Fear is necessary when Love is want∣ing, but it always should be made use of with regret, as violent and

dangerous Remedies are; always consider at a distance, all the Con∣sequences of what you are about to undertake. Endeavour to foresee all, the most terrible Incoveniencies; and know, that true Courage con∣sists in discovering all Dangers, and in despising them, when they be∣come unavoidable. He that is not willing to see them, has not Cou∣rage enough calmly to forbear the sight of 'em. He that takes a view of them, and avoids all that can be avoided; and breaks through all the rest without a troublesome Emotion of Mind, is the only Wise and Magnanimous Man. A∣void Luxury, Pride, and Profusion; let your Glory consist in sincerity; let your Virtues, and good Works, be the Ornament of the Person, and of the Palace; let 'em be the Guard to surround you; and let all the World learn from you, where∣in true Happiness consists. Never forget that Kings do not Reign for

their own own Glory, but for the Good of the People: The Good they do, reaches even to the remo∣test Ages, and the Evil they do, multiplies from Generation to Ge∣neration, even to the latest Posteri∣ty. Fear the Gods, Telemachus, this Fear is the greatest. Treasure of the Heart of Man; it will be attended with Wisdom, Justice, Peace, Joy, refin'd Pleasures, true Liberty, sweet Plenty, and spotless Glory.

I now leave you, O Son of U∣lysses; but my Wisdom shall never leave you, provided you always remain sensible, that you can do no∣thing without it; 'tis time for you now to go alone. I parted from you in Phoenicia, and at Salentum, only to use you to be without the Pleasure of my Company; as they wean Children, when 'tis time to deprive 'em of Milk, to feed 'em with solid Aliment. No sooner had the Goddess finished this Discourse,

but she mounted into the Air, and wrapt her self in a Cloud of Gold and Azure, in which she disap∣pear'd. Telemachus sigh'd, was struck with Wonder, and in an Extasie, prostrated himself on the Ground; he lifted up his Hands to Heaven, and recovering himself, went to his Company and awaken'd them, hasten'd away, and arriv'd at Itha∣ca, where he found his Father with the Faithful Eumenia.

FINIS.