Book VIII

J tiHus fo far lofl his recolledlion, that he fcarce knew what he had clone; the whole appeared to him like a dream j but it was like a dream of confusion and trouble.

Calypso inflantly quitted the place; and, tranfported with rage, made her way through the forest with a hafty and diibrdercd pace, following no track, and not knowing whither llie was going: at length, however, llie found herself at the entrance of her grotto, where Mentor was waiting her return. " Begone, said she, from this island,' O stranger, who art come hither only to interrupt my peace! Begone, thou hoary dotard, with that infatuated boy! and be afTured, that, if he is found another hour within my dominions, thou shalt know the power of a Deity to punish. I will see him no more; nor will I fufTer my nymphs to have any farther intercourse with him: this I swear by the waters of Styx, an oath at which the inhabitants of eternity tremble! But thou, TelemacHus, shalt know that thy sufferings are yet but begun. I difmifs thee from this island; but it is only to new misfortunes: I will be revenged,' and thou shalt regret the abuse of my bounty in vain. Neptune Hill refents the injury which he received from thy father in Sicily; and, folicited by Venus, whose worihip thou hast since despised in the ifie of Cyprus, he is. now preparing to excite new tempcfts against thee. Thou flvalt see thy father, who is not dead; but, when thou fceft him, thou shalt not know him: and though thou shalt meet him in Ithaca, thou shalt firil suffer the fevereft persecutions of fortune. Begone! I conjure the celestial Deities to revenge me! Mayst thou be suspended in the middle of the deep, by the crag of fonie solitary and naked rock! There may ' the thynder ilrike thee from above; and there mayst thou invoke Calypso, who shall fcorn thy repentance, and enjoy thy punishment 1" But the rage of Calypso evaporated with the very breath that cxpr^fled it, and the desire of retaining Tel emachits

11 2 rcvivecj revived in her bosom. " Let him live, said ilie to herself, and let him live here I j->erhaps, in time, he will learn to let a just value upon my friendship; and reflect, that Eucharis has no immortality to bestow. But, alas! I have enfnarcd myself by an inviolable oath; it has bound me with everlasting bonds; and the irremeable waters of Styx, by which I have fworn, preclude for ever the return of hope!" While these thoughts pafTed iilently in her bosom, the chara6teriftics of all the furies were imprefTed upon her countenance, and all the peftilential vapours of Cocytus seemed to exhale from her heart.

Her whole appearance flruck Telemachus with horror; she inflantly perceived it, for what is hidden from the perfpicacity of love? and the discovery added new violence to her phrenzy. She suddenly started away from the place where she flood, with all the fury that infpires the votaries of Bacchus, when their fliouts echo from the mountains of Thrace; she rullied into the woods with a javelin in her hand, calling all her nymphs to follow her, and threatening to pierce those who should flay behind: terrified at this menace, they thronged round her; and Eucharis among the rest, her eyes fvvimming in tears, and her lafl look directed to Telfmachus, to whom she did not dare to speak. The Goddefs trembled when she approached her; and was fo far from being foftened by her fubmiflion, that she biu'ned with new rage, ^hen Ihe perceived, that affli<5lion itself only lieightened her beauty.

Telemachus was now left alone with Mentor; and, after a Ihort interval of filcnce and confulion, he threw himself on the ground, and embraced his knees: he did not dare to throw himself on his neck, or even to lift up his eyes upon him: he burst into tears; he attempted to speak, but his voice failed him, and he was yet more at a loss for words; he knew not what he ought to do, do, what he did, or what he would do: bvit at length he cried out, " O more than father! O Mentor! deliver me from the evils that furround me. I can neither forfake, nor follow you: deliver me from evils that are worse than death; deliver me from myfclf, put an end to my being."

Mentor embraced him-, comforted, and encouraged him; and, without foothing his passion, reconciled him to life. " O son of the wufe Ulysses! said he, whom the Gods have fo highlyfavoured, and whom they favour still; the very sufferings of which thou art now complaining, are new teftimonies of their love; he, who has never felt the strength of his paflions, and his own wcaknefs, is not yet acquainted with wisdom; he is not yet acquainted with himself; nor is he aware, how little his own heart is to be trusted. The Gods have led thee as it were by the hand, to the brink of deflruction; they have fhcwed thee the depth of the abyss, but they have not fuflered thee to fall in: secure now the knowledge, which othcrwife thou couldft never have acquired; and improve that experience, without which, it would have been in vain to tell thee of the treachery of Love, who flatters only to dcftroy, and who conceals the keenefl anguish under the appearance of delight. Thou hast nov/ £cea, and known, this lovely, this perfidious boy; he came hither blooming in immortal beauty, and all was mirth and fport, elegance and dilllpation; he Hole away thy heart, and thou hadst pleasure in permitting the theft; yet didll thou wiOi to persuade thyself, that it was still thy own; thou wast solicitous to deceive mc, and to flatter thyself; and thou, art now gathering the frviits of thy indifcretion. Thou art importuning me to take away thy life, and that I will comply is the only hope that lingers in thy breafi:;. the Goddefs is transforiTied, by the violence of her paflions, to an infernal fury; Eucliaris is tormented by a flame less tolerable than the painslib pains of death; and, among die other nymphs of Calypso, jcaloufy has scattered all her plagues with an unfpaj-mg hand, Such are the exploits of that boy, whose appearance was fo gentle and lovely! How greatly, then, art thou beloved by the Gods, who have opened a way for thee to fly from him, and return to thy country, the object not of a blamelefs only but a noble pafllon! Calypso is herself compelled to drive thee hence; the velFel is ready; call up, then, all thy courage, and let us make hafte to quit this island, where it is certain that virtue can never dwell.'

Mentor, while he was yet fpcaking, took Telemachus by the hand, and led him towards the shore: Telemachus confcnted with silent reluctance, and looked behind him at every ftcp; Eucharis was Hill in fight, though at a confidcrable distance; and not being able to see her face, he gazed at her fine hair, which tied in a lock played gracefully behind her, and at her loofc light robe that flowed negligently in the wind; he remarked the easy majesty of her gait, and could have kifl^ed the mark of her footsteps on the ground: when his eye could no longer reach her, he listened, and he persuaded himself that he heard her voice: he still saw her, though she was absent; his fancy realized her image, and he thought that he was talking with her, not knowing where he was, nor hearing any thing that was said by Mentor.

But, at length, awaking as from a dream, " Mentor, said he, I am resolved to follow you, but I have not yet taken leave of Eucharis; and 1 would rather pcrifh, than abandon her with ingratitude. Stay only till I see her once more; flay only till I bid her farev/ell for ever: let me tell her, that the Gods, jealous of my felicity, compel me to depart; but that they shall sooner put a period to my life, than blot her from my remembrance. O my father! grant me this lafl, this moll reasonable request; or destroy me this moment, and let me die at your feet. I have no desire to 2 continue eontinue in this island, nor will I give up my heart to love; it is, indeed, a flranger to the passion; for all that I feel for Eucharis, amounts but to friendlhip and gratitude. I delire only to bid her farewell, and 1 will then follow you without a moment's delay."

" My son, replied Mentor, my pity for you is more than I can cxprefs: your passion is fo violent, that you are not sensible it poffellesyou; you imagine you rfclf to be in a flate of tranquillity, even while you are adjuring me to take away your life; you declare that you are not under the influence of love, while you feel yourself unable to quit the objecSt of your passion, while you see and hear her only, and are blind and deaf to all beside; fo the wretch, whom a fever has rendered delirious, tells you he is not sick. Yout: undcrftanding is blinded by desire; you are ready to renounce Penelope who expects you in Ithaca, and Ulysses whom you shall certainly ice again at your return, and to whose throne you are to succeed; you would give up all the glory, which the Gods have proraifed and confirmed by the miracles which they have wrought in your behalf, to live with Eucharis in obscurity. and difgrace; and yet you pretend, that your attachment to her is not the effedt of love. What is it but lov€, that troubles you; what but love has made you weary of life; and what else produced the tranfport, that betrayed your fe-cret to Calypso? Ij^ not j.ccufe you of iniincerity, but I pity your delufion: fly, fly, O Telemachus! for Love J s conquered only by;4ight,; againfl: such aneneniy, true courage consists in fear and retreat; in retrca^ without deliberation, and without lookiag.,back. You cannot have forgotten the tender anxieties you have cost; me from your earliefh infancy, nor the dangers which my counsel has enabled you to avoid: why, then, will you diflrufl: me now? believe me, or let me leave you to your f cite. You know not the anguish that my heart has felt, to see you ru(h foi-ward in the path of dcftrudlion; you knov/ not what I fccretly fuflered, when I did not dare to speak to you; your mother ther felt not a fevcrer pang at your birth. I was silent; and fiipprefled even my fighs, in the fond hope, that you would at length return to me without admonition or reproof. O my son! reilore to me that which is dearer than life; give me thyself, and be once more mine and thy own. Jf jeafon shall at length prevail over pafTion, I shall live, and my life shall be happy; but if, in the contefl with pailion, rcafon shall give way, my happiness is at an end, and I can live no longer.'^

• During this discourse, Memtor continued to advance tow-ards the sea; and T^lemachus, ^ho had not yet fiifFicient resolution to have followed him, was y6t fo far influenced, as to suffer himself to be led forward without rcfiftancc. Minerva, in this crilis of his fate, flill concealed under the form of Mentor, covered him ^ invifibly with her fhield, and difFufed round him the divine radiance of uncreated light: its influence was immediate and irreflftable; and Telemachus was conscious to a strength of mind, which, flnce he came into the island of Calypso, he had never felt. They came at length to the sea shore, which, in that place, was fl:eep and rocky; it projected in a clifl^, which was broken by the foaming furge below, and which, from the top, commanded an extensive profpe6t of the country: from this promontory, they looked to see, whether the ship, which had been built by Mentor, was fl;ill in the place where they had left it; and they beheld a scene, which, to Mentor at least, was extremely mortifying and diftrefsful.

Love, who was conscious that his fliafts could make no impressions upon Men or, now saw him carry ofFTELEM achus, with new pangs of difappointed malignity: he wept with rage and vexation; and went in search of Calypso, who was wandering about in the most gloomy recefles of the forcft. The moment she saw him, a deep figh efcapcd her, and she felt every wound in her bosom beginto bleed afrcfli: " Art thou a Goddefs? said the difdainful fill boy; and dost thou suffer thyself to be defied by a feeble mortal, who is captive in thy dominions? Why is he fufTered to depart with impunity?" " O fatal power! replied Calypso, let me no more liilen to thy dangerous counsel, which has already feduced me from a Hate of perfect and delicious tranquillity, and plunged me in an abyss of misery, where thought itself can find no bottom: all counsel is, indeed, too late; I have fwornby the waters of the Styx, that I will not detain him; and this awful oath, Jupiter himself, the father of the Gods, omnipotent and eternal, does not dare to violate. Depart then, Telemachus, from this island! Depart thou also, pernicious boy, for my misfortunes are derived rather from thee, than from him!"

Love, drying up his tears, replied, with a smile of derifion and difdain, " And this oath has left you without an expedient? Leave the matter then' to my management. As you have fworn to let Telemachus depart, take nomeafures to detain him; but neither I, nor your nymphs, are bound by your oath: I will secretly incite them to burn the veflel that Mentor has fo haftily built, and his • diligence to circumvent us shall be inefTedlual; he also shall be circumvented in his turn, and find himself unexpe(5ledly deprived of all means to rescue Telemachus from your power."

The voice of Love thus foothed the despair of Calypso, as the breath of the zephyr, upon the margin of a ftream, refrefhes the languid flock, v/hich are fainting in the burning heat of the summer's sun: the sweet influence of hope and joy, was again felt in her breafl; ; her countenance became ferene, and her eye foft and placid; the glooms of care were diffipated for a moment; she flopped, she fmiled; and flae repaid the flattery of the wanton boy, with carelTes, which prepared new anguish for her heart.

CupiB, pleased with his success upon Calypso, went to try his mfluence upon her nymphs; they were scattered about upon the

S moun-

I30 B O O K VII.

mountains, like a flock of Ilieep, which, pursued by some hungry wolf, had fled far from the fhephcrd. Having soon got them together, " Telemachus, says he, is fl:ill in your hands; but if a moment is lost, he will escape you: make hafte, then, and set fire to the velTel, which the temerity of Mentor has conftru6led to carry him off." Torches were now lighted in a moment; they ruflied towards the sea Ihore, with the cries and geftures of frantic Bacchanals, their hair diflievelled, and their limbs trembling; the flames spread; the whole veflel was soon in a blaze; and the fmoke, intermixed with fliects of fire, rose in a cloudy volume to the sky.

Telemachus and Mentor saw the flames, and heard the cries of the nymphs, from the top of the rock. Telemachus was secretly inclined to rejoice at what had happened j the health of his mind was not yet perfectly restored; and Mentor remarked, that his pafion was like a fire not totally extinguifhed, which, from time to time, gleams from the embers, and frequently throws out fparks with a sudden and unexpe(5led vigour: " Now, says Telemachus, ourretreat is cut off, and our escape from this island is impoflible!" Mentor, who perceived that he was relapfing into all his follies, knew that not a moment was to be lost: he saw a veflel lying at anchor at a distance, which did not approach the shore, because it was well known to all pilots, that the island of Calypso was inacceflible; this wife guardian of unexperienced youth, therefore, suddenly puflicd Telemachus from the top of the rock into the sea, and Jnftantly leaped after him. Telemachus, who was at first ftunned by the fall, drank of the briny wave, and became the fport of the furge: but at length, recovering from his astonishment, and seeing Mentor, who stretched out his hand to aflift him in fwimming, he thought only how to leave the island at a distance.

The nymphs, who before imagined that they had secured their captives, uttered a dreadful cry, when they saw them escape; Calypso, again overwhelmed withdefpair, retired to her grotto, which she

B O O K vn.

she filled with unavailing complaints; and Love, who saw his triumph fuddcnly changed into a defeat, fprung up into the air, and, spreading his wings, took his flight to the groves of Idalia, where he was expected by Venus: the boy, Hill more cruel than his mother, consoled himself for his difappointment, by laughing, with her, at the mischief they had done.

Telemachus felt, with pleasure, that his fortitude and his love of virtue revived, as his diflance from the fatal island of Calypso increased: " I now, said he to Mentor, experience what you have told me; but what, if I. had not experienced, I could never have believed; vice can only be conquered by flight. My father, how dear a teflimony have the Goils given me of their love, by granting me the guidance and p'Otecftion of thy wisdom! 1 deserve, indeed, to be deprived of both; I deserve to be abandoned to my own folly. I now fear neither feas nor winds; I apprehend danger, only from my paflions: Love alone is more to be dreaded, than.-, all the calamities of fhipwrcck.

The E N D of the SEVENTH B O O K»

JlTiti^ utf

C ^•firxWM' /Of viir.

THE veflel, which lay at anchor, and which Telemachus and Mentor were approaching, was of Phenicia, and bound to Epirus. The Phenicians who were on board, had seen Telemachus in his voyage from Egypt; but he could not be sufficiently distinguished to be known, while he was fwimming in the sea. When Mentor was near enough the veflel to be heard, he raised his head above the water, and called out with a loud voice, " Phenicians! you, who fuccour alike the diftrefled of all nations, refuse not your aflillance to two strangers, whose life depends upon your humanity: if you have any reverence for the Gods, take us on board, and we will accompany you whitherfoever you are bound." The commander of the veflel immediately answered, " We will receive you with joy; it is not necefl!ary that you should be known to us; it suffices, that you are men, and in distress." He gave orders accordingly, and they were taken into the ship.

When

When they firfl came aboard, they were fo exhausted and out of breath, that they could neither speak nor move; for they had been fwimming a long time, and had ftruggled hard with the billows: they recovered, however, by degrees, and had change of apparel brought them; their own being heavy with the water it had imbibed, which ran off from all parts. As soon as they were able to speak, the Phenicians gathered round them, and were impatient to hear their adventures: " How, said the commander^ did you get into that island, from whence you came hither? it is in the pofTellion of a Goddefs, who suffers no man to enter it; and, indeed, it is surrounded by rocks, which are always beaten by fo dreadful a furge, that it can fcarce be approached without certain shipwreck." Mentor replied, " We were driven on shore by a storm: we are Greeks from Ithaca, an island not far from Epirus, whither you are bound; and if you should not touch there, which, however, is in your course, we shall be satisfied to be put on Ihore at your port; for we shall find friends at Epirus, who will procure us a pafTage over to Ithaca; and we shall still think ourselves indebted to your humanity, for the happiness of being again restored to all that is dear to us in the world."

Telemachus remained silent, and left Mentor toanfwer for them both, the faults which he had committed in the island of Calypso having greatly increased his prudence: he was now diffident of himself; and fo conscious, how much he always flood in need of the dire(5lion of fuperiour wisdom, that, when he had no opportunity of asking Mentor's advice, he watched his countenance, and endeavoured to discover his sentiments in his looks.

The Phenician commander, observing the silence of Telemachus, looked earneflly at him, and thought he remembered to have seen him before; but not being able to recolle<51: any particulars, ticulai's, *' Permit me, said he, to ask, if you have not fomc remembrance of having seen me before; for I think this is not the first time I have seen you r your countenance is not unknown to me, it ilruck me at the firfl glance, but I cannot recoiled; where we have met: perhaps, my memory may be afliited by yours." Tele- MACH.US immediately replied, v^^ith a mixture e>f furprize and pleasure, " I have felt, at the fight of you, exadlly what you have felt at the fight of me: I well remember to have seen you; but I canpot recoiled, whether in Egypt, or at Tyre." The Phenician, at the mention of Eg}'pt and Tyre, like a man, who, waking in the morning, has brought back, l^y degrees, and as it were from a gemote diflance, the evanefcent- images oi a dream which had fled with the shadows of the night, suddenly cried out, " Thou art Telemachus, with whom Narbal contradted a friendship when we were returning from Egypt! I am his brother, of whom you have doubtless heard him often speak: I left you with him, when we arrived at Tyre, being myself obliged to make a voyage to Bcetica, that celebrated country, near the pillars of Hercules, on the remoteft confines of the deep: having, therefore, but just seen you, it is not llrange that I did not perfcdly recollect you at first fight."

" I perceive, said Telemachus, that you are Adoam: I had no opportunity of a personal acquaintance with you, but I have heard much of you from Narbal. How should I rejoice, to hear of him from you! for, to me, his memory will be for ever dear. Is he still at Tyre? has he fufifered nothing from the suspicion and cruelty of Pygmalion?" " Telemachus, said Adoam interrupting him, fortune has now given you in charge to a man, who will, to the utmost of his abilities, deserve the trust: I will put you on shore at Ithaca, before I proceed to Epirus; and you Ihall not.find less friend- Ihip in the brother of Narbal, than in Narbal himself." Having looked aloft while he was speaking, he observed that the wind,

2 for for which he had waited, began to blow; he, therefore, gave orders inflantly to weigh anchor j the fails were spread to the breeze, and the oars divided the flood.

Adoam then took Telemachus and Mfntor apart: " I will now, said he to Telemachus, gratify your curiosity. The tyranny of Pygmalion is at an end; from that fcourge, the righteous Gods have delivered the earth! As he dared to trull no man, fo no man dared to trull him: the good were content to figh in secret, and to hide themselves from his cruelty, without attempting any thing againil him; the wicked thought there was no way of securing their own lives, but by putting an end to his. There was not a man in Tyre, who was not in perpetual danger of alarming his suspicion; and to this danger, his guards themselves were more exposed than others: as his life was in their hands, he feared them in proportion to their power; and he sacrificed them to his safety, upon the slightest miftruft: thus, his very search of security, rendered the finding it impoflible; those, in whose hands he had depofited his life, were, themselves, in perpetual danger by his suspicion; and the only expedient to deliver themselves from this dreadful lituation, was to anticipate the effedls of his suspicion by his death. The first, however, who took a resolution to destroy him, was the impious Aflarbe, whom you have heard fo often mentioned already. She was paiTionately enamoured of a young Tyrian, who had great polfeflions, and whose name was Joazar; and had conceived a design of placing him upon the throne: to facilitate the execution of this projeA, Ihe persuaded the king, that Phadael, the eldefl of his two sons, being impatient to succeed him, had confpired againfl: his life; she fuborncd witnefles to support the charge, and the unhappy tyrant caufcd Phadael to be put to death. Baleazar, his second son, was sent to Samos, under the pretence of learning the manners and the sciences of Greece; but, in reality, becaufc

Aftarbe

13^ B O XD K Vin.

Aftarbe liacl pcrfuaded the king, that it was necelFary to send him away, left he should aiTociate himself with the malecontents. The ship, in which he was embarked, had fcarce quitted the port, when those who had been appointed to navigate her, having been corrupted by the perfidious inhumanity of Aftarbe, contrived to make lliipwreck of the veflel.in the night; and having thrown the young prince into the sea, they preserved themfehes by fwimming to forae foreign barks, that waited for them at a convenient distance.

In the mean time, the amours of Aftarbe were secrets to none but PygmaUon, who fondly imagined himself to be the only objeft of her afre(51:ion: he, who heard even the whifper of the breeze with diftruft and dread, relied on this abandoned woman with a blind and implicit confidence: at the time,. however, when love rendered him the dupe of her artifices, he was incited, by avarice, to find some pretence for putting Joazar, her favourite, to death, that he might seize upon his riches.

But, while suspicion, love, and avarice, were thus sharing the heart of Pygmalion, Aftarbe was contriving his immediate destruction: she thought it poftible, that he might have discovered something of her connecSlion with Joazar, and if not, Ihe knew that avarice alone, would furnish him with a fuflicient motive to cut him off; she concluded, therefore, that not a moment was to be lost: she saw, that all the principal officers of the court were ready to dip their hands in his blood, and she heard of some new confpiracy every day; yet there was none whom she could make the confidants of her design, without putting her own life in their power; and, therefore, she determined to destroy Pygmalion by poison, and to adminifter it herself.

It was his general pracflice to eat with her in private; and he always drefTed his food himself, not daring to trust any hand but his his own: while he was thus employed, he used to lock himfeif up in the most retired part of his palace, the better to conceal his fears, and elude observation. He did not dare to enjoy any of the pleasures of the table, nor even to taste any thing which had not been prepared wholly by himfeif; he was thus precluded from the use, not only of delicacies and refinements in cookery, but of wine, bread, fait, oil, milk, and all other ordinary food: he lived intirely upon fruit, which he gathered himfeif from his garden, or such roots and herbs as he fowed and drefTed with his own hands; he drank no liquor, but the water which he drew from a fountain that was inclofed in a part of the palace, of which he always kept the key; and, notwithstanding his confidence in Aftarbe, he did not, in this particular, lay aside his precaution even with refpedl to her; he made her eat and drink of every thing that furnished out their repaft, before he tafted it himfeif, that he might be sure not to be poifoned without her, and that ftie might have no hope of surviving him. She contrived, however, to render this precaution inefFe6tual; for she took a counter poison, which she had obtained of an old woman yet more wicked than herself, whom, upon this occasion, Ihe made no fcruple to trust, as Ihe was already the confidant of her amours. As she was thus secured againfl danger, in poifoning the king with food of which she was herself to partake, she accomplished her purpose in the following manner.

At the moment when they were fitting down to their i-epafl, the old woman made a noise at One of the doors of the apartment; the king, always under the terrors of alTaffination, was greatly alarmed, and ran in hafle to the door, to see that it was secured: the old woman, having performed her part, withdrew; and the king flood torpid in fufpenfe, not knowing what to think of the noise he had heard, nor daring to resolve his doubts by opening the door.

T Aftarbe

Aftarbe encouraged him, careJTed him, and prelled him to eat, hflvjng thrown poison into his golden cup, while he ran to the door upon the alarm. Pygmalion, with his usual precaution, gave the cup first into her hand; and jfhe drank without fear, confiding in the antidote Ihe had taken: Pygmalion then drank himself j and, in a short time afterwards, funk down in a state of total infenfibility. Aftarbe, who knew that he was capable of ftabbing her to the heart upon the slightest suspicion, and that he might recover from this fit while he had yet strength to do it, immediately rent her clothes, tore her hair, and burst into clamorous lamentations: she took the dying king in her arms, prefled him to her bosom, and shed over him a flood of tears, which she had always at command; but when she saw that his strength was just exhausted, and the last agony coming on, she dropped the mafk, and, to prevent a poflibility of his recovery, threw herself upon him, and fmothered him: she then took the royal fignet from his finger, and the diadem from his head, and presented them both to Joazar, whom she called in for that purpose. She imagined, that all her partizans would readily concur in the gratification of her paflion; and that her lover would not fail to be proclaimed king: but those, who had paid their court to her with the greatest ailiduity, were base and mercenary wretches, who were incapable of a sincere affedlionj and who, besides being deftitute of courage, were deterred from fupporting Aftarbe, by the fear of her enemies: her own pride, diihmulation, and cruelty, were yet more formidable; and every one wished that she might perish, as a pledge of his own security. In the mean time, the palace was in the utmost confusion: nothing was heard but a repetition of the words, " The king is dead!" some flood terrified and irrefolute; others ran to arms y every one rejoiced at the event, but every one apprehended the consequences. The news prefently circulated, from mouth to mouth,, through the whole cityt city; where there was not fo much as a single person, that regretted the death of the king, which was an universal dcUverance and consolation.

Narbal, ftnick with an event fo sudden and awful, compaffionated the misfortunes of PygmaHon, though he could not but dctefl his vices: he regretted, like an honest man, his having betrayed himself to deflru<5tion, by an unlimited and undeferved confidence in Aftarbe; and chosen rather to be a tyrant, difclaimed by nature, and abhorred by mankind, than to fulfil the duties of a sovereign, and become the father of his people. He was also attentive to the interests of the state, and made haflc to aflemble the friends of their country to oppose the measures of Aftarbe; under whose influence, there was the greatest reason to apprehend a reign, yet more oppreflive than that of Pygmalion himself.

Narbal knew, that Baleazar was not drowned, when he was thrown into the sea; though the wretches, who aflured Aftarbe of his death, thought otherwise: he saved himself under favour of the night by fwimming; and some Cretan merchants, touched with compaflion, took him into their vefTel: having no reason to doubt but that his deftruc^ion was intended, and being equally afraid of • the cruel jealousy of Pygmalion, and the fatal artifices of Aftarbe, he did not dare to return into his father's dominions, but wandered about on the coast of Syria, where he had been, left by the Cretans who took him up, and gained a fcanty fubfiftence by tending a flock of flicep: at length, however, he found means to make Narbal acquainted with his situation; not doubting, but that he might fafely trust his secret and his life with a man, whose virtue had been fo often tried. Narbal, though he had been ill' treated by the father, did not look with less tenderness on the son; nor was he less attentive to bis interests, in which, however, his principal view was to prevent his undertaking any thing inconsistent with the duty he still owed to his father; and, therefore, he exerted all his influence, to reconcile him to his ill fortune.

Baleazar had requested Narbal, to send him a ring as a token, whenever it should be proper for him to repair to Tyre; but Narbal did not think it prudent, during the life of Pygmalion, as it would have been attended with the utmost danger to them both; the tyrant's inquifitive circumfpedion being such, as no fubtilty or diligence could elude: but, as soon as the fate he merited had overtaken him, Narbal sent the ring to Baleazar. Baleazar set out immediately, and arrived at the gates of Tyre, while the whole city was in the utmost trouble and perplexity, to know who should succeed to the throne: he was at once known and acknowledged, as well by the principal Tyrians, as by the people; they loved him, not for the sake of his father, who was the object of universal deteftation, but for his own amiable and gracious disposition; and even his misfortunes now threw a kind of splendour round him, which Ihewed his good qualities to the greatest advantage, and produced a tender interest in his favour^

Narbal assembled the chiefs of the people, the elders of the council, and the priests of the great Goddefs of Phenicia. They faluted Baleazar as their king; and he was immediately proclaimed, by the heralds, amidst the acclamations of the people. The fhouts were heard by Aftarbe, in one of the innermoft recefles of the palace, where she had Ihut herself up with Joazar, her eiFeminate arid infamous favourite: llie was abandoned by all the fycophants and parafites, the corrupt proftitutes of power, who had attached themselves to Ikr during the life of Pygmalion; for the wicked fear the wicked-; they know them to be unworthy of confidence, and, therefore, do not wdih they should be inv.eftcd with power. Mejx of corrupt principles, know how much others, of the fame cha^radter, abuse authority, and to what exccfs they carry oppreflion: they wilh rather to have tlic good set over them; for though they cannot hope for reward, they know they shall not suffer injury^ Aftarbe, therefore, was deferted by all but a few wretches, who had fo far involved themselves in her guilt, that, whatever party they Ihould efpoufe, they could not hope to escape punishment.

The palace was soon forced} guilt naturally irrcfolute and timid; made little refiilance, and the criminals endeavoured to save themselves by flight. Aftarbe attempted to make- her escape, difguifed like a slave; but Ihe was deteiHred and seized by a soldier, who knew her; and it- was with great difficulty, that the people were prevented from tearing her to pieces 5 they had already thrown her down, and were dragging her along the pavement, when Narbal refcued her out of their hands. She then intreated, that she might speak to Baleazar, whom Ihe hoped to influence by her beauty, and to impose upon by pretending that she could, make important discoveries. Baleazar could not refuse to hear her; and she ap* proached him with an. expreflion of sweetness and-, modesty in her countenance, which gave new power to her beauty, and might have fof tened rage itself into pity and complacency. She addrefled. him with the moll delicate and. iniinuating flattery. ; Ihe conjm-ed him, by the ashes of his father, to take pity upon her, whom. he had fo tenderly loved; she invoked the Gods, as if she had paid: them the homage of fincer€ adoration; she fled a flood of tears> and proftrating herself on the ground before the young king, fliepaflionately embraced his knees. But as soon as Ihe imaginedthefe arts had gained an influence over him, she neglected nothing; to render him fufpicious of the most faithful and afl'ecftionate of his servants: she accused Narbal, of having entered into a confpiiuacy againflr Pygmalion } and of intrigues, to procure himself to be chosen king inflead of Balea^ar, whom, she infinuated, he had also intended to poison. In the fame manner, she calmnniated every other person, whom she knew to be a friend to virtue j and hoped to find Baleazar fufceptible of the fame diflrufl and suspicion, as his father: but the young prince, difcerning and difdaining both her fubtilty and her maUce, suddenly interrupted her, by calUng in his guards; she was immediately carried to prison, and a proper number of persons, diflinguifhed for their experience and their wisdom, were appointed to enquire into her conduft.

They discovered, with horror, that she had firfl poifoned, and then fmothered Pygmahon; and that her whole life had been one uninterrupted series of the most enormous crimes: she was, therefore, judged worthy of the fevereft punishment which the laws of Phcnicia could inflicft, and condemned to be burnt by a flow fire. But, as soon as she found that her crimes were known, and her judges inexorable, she gave way to all the furies that had taken pofTeflion of her foul; and she immediately fwallowed poison, which she had taken care to conceal about her, as the means of a fpeedy death, if she should be condemned to suffer lingering torments. Those who were about her soon perceived, that she suffered intolerable pain, and offered such relief as was in their power -, but, without giving any answer, she made signs that she would receive no afliflance: they then spoke to her of the righteous Gods, whose anger she had provoked; but, instead of expressing contrition or remorse, she looked upward with a mixture of defpight and arrogance, as if she abhorred their attributes, and defied their vengeance.

The lafl agony now came on, and her dying aspect: exprcfTed only impiety and rage: of that beauty, which had been fatal to fo many, no remains were now left; every grace was vanished; her eyes, upon which the hand of death was already heavy, were turned haftiiy on every fide, with a wild and unmeaning ferocity; her lips were convulfed, her mouth open, and her whole countenance diftorted; a livid palenefs succeeded, and her body became cold: yet sometimes Ihc started, as it were, back to life; but it was only to cxprefs the pang that roufed her, by flirieks and groans. At length, however, Ihe expired, leaving those that flood round her, in a state of inexpreflible confusion and horror. Her guilty foul, without doubt, descended to those mournful regions, where the tmrelenting daughters of Danaus are perpetually employed in filling veffcls that will not hold water j where Ixion for ever turns his wheel; and Tantalus in vain endeavours to flake his everlasting thirst, with the water that eludes his lips; where Syfiphus, with unavailing labour, rolls up the flone, which eternally falls back j and where Tityus feels the vulture inceflantly prey upon his heart, which, as fast as it is devoured, is renewed.

Baleazar, having exprefifed his gratitude to the Gods for his deliverance from this monfter, by innumerable sacrifices, began his. reign, by a conduft altogether different from that of Pygmalion.. He applies hirafelf, with great diligence, to revive commerce^ which had long languiftied by a gradual decline: in matters of great importance, he takes the advice of Narbal, yet does not sub* mit implicitly to his dire^ion; in every instance, he makes the administration of government his own a<ffe, and takes cognizance of all things with his own eye: he bears every one's opinion, and then determines according toliis own; he is, eonfequently, the idpl of his people; an-d by poflefllng their afleiflions, he is mafler of more wealth, than the cruel avarice of bis father could ever hoard ^ for there is not a man in his dominions, that would not freely part with his whole property, if, upon a pre fling neceflity, he should' recjuire it of Iiim: what he leaves his people, therefore, is more effedually

.ciFein.ually his own, than it would be if he took it away. All precautions for the security of his person, are unneceflary; for he is continually surrounded by an impregnable defence, the afFedion of the public: there is not a fubjedl in his kingdom, who does not dread the loss of his prince, as a calamity to himself; and who would not interpofe between him and danger, at the hazard of his life. He is happy, and all his people are happy with him; he is afraid of requiring too much of them, and they are afraid of offering him too little; his moderation leaves them in affluence, but this affluence renders them neither intractable nor infolent; i'or they arc habitually induflrious, addicfted to commerce, and inflexible in fupporting the ancient purity of their laws. Phenicia Jias now reached the fummit of greatness and of glory, and owes all her profpcrity to her young king!

" Narbal is his minister, the instrument of his virtue, and of his wisdom. OTelemachus! if he was now to see you, with what joy would he load you with presents, and send you back with magnificence to your country! How would he have rejoiced, to have placed the son of Ulysses upon the throne of Ithaca, to diflfufe the fame happincfs through that island, which Baleazar difpenfes at -Tyre! And hpw happy am I, to render you this service in his ftcad!"

Telemac^us, who ha4 listened with great pleasure to the relation of these events, and was yet more fenfibly touched with the tender and zealous friendship with which Adoam had receive^ him in his misfortunes, replied only, by clafping him to his breast in a tranfport of gratitude, afFedion, and efleem. Adoam then enquired, how he came op'shore at the island of Calypso; an^i Telemachus, in his turn, gave him the history of his departure from Tyre, of his paflTage to the isle of Cyprus, of the manner of his y his finding Mentor, of their voyage to Crete, of the public games for the cledion of a king after 'the flight of Idomeneus, of the rcfentment of Venus, of their Ihipwreck, of the pleasure with which Calypso received them, of her becoming jealous of Eucharis, and of his being thrown into the sea by Mentor upon his perceiving a Phenician vefTcl at some diflance from the coast.

Adoam then ordered a magnificent entertainment; and, as a farther teflimony of his joy, he improved it \yith all the pleasure s of which his situation would admit. During the repall, which was served by young Phenicians, drefled in white garments, and crowned with flowers; the place was perfumed by burning the moll odoriferous gums of the East: they were entertained with the found of the flute, by muflcians, to whom the rowers had resigned their feats; and this melody was, from time to time, interrupted by Achitoas, who accompanied his lyre with his voice, in ftrains, which were worthy to be heard at the table of the Gods, and to which even Apollo might have liflened with delight. The Tritons, Nereids, and all the Deities, who rule the waters in fubordination to the Father of the Deep, and even all^ the monftcrs of those hoary regions unknown to man, quitted the watery grottos of the abyls, and fwam in crowds round the veflcl to enjoy the harmony. A band of Phenician youths, of cxquiiite beauty, cloathcd in fine linen whiter than snow, entertained them a long time with dancing, in the manner of their country, afterwards with the dances of Egypt, and at last with those of Greece. At proper intervals, the flirill voice of the trumpet interpofcd, and the waves refounded to the distant shores. The silence of the night, the calmnefs of the sea, the lambent radiance of the moon which trembled on the surface of the waves, and the deep azure of the sky fpangled with a tboufand stars, concurred to heighten the beauty of the fccne.

U Tele MA-

Telemachus, who was remarkable for a quick and lively fenfibility, tafted all these pleasures with a high relifli; yet he did not dare to give his heart up to their influence: since he had experienced in the island of Calypso, to his great confusion anddifgrace, how easily a young mind is inflamed, he regarded all pleasures, however innocent, with diflrull and dread; and watched the looks of Mentor, to discover what he thought of these.

Mentor was pleased with his embarrafTment, but without feeming to discover it: at length, however, touched with his self denial, he said, with a smile, " I know of what you are afraid, and your fear does you honour; do not, however, let it carry you too far: it is not pofllble to wish you the enjoyment of pleasure, more earnellly than I wish it you, provided it is pleasure that neither inflames the pafTions, nor effeminates the characSter; your pleasures mufl be such as unbend and refrefli the mind, such as leave you complete master of yourself; not such as fubdue you to their power. Those that I wish you, do not inflame the foul with a brutal fury; but footh it, by a sweet and gentle influence, to a pure and peaceful enjoyment. You have endured toil and danger? andi' telaxation and folace are now neceflary: accept, then, with gratitude to Adoam, the pleasures that he now offers you; enjoy them, my dear Telemachus, enjoy them without fear or restraint. There is neither aufterity nor affedtation in Wisdom, who is, indeed, the parent of delight; for she alone can render it pure and permanent; she alone has the secret of intermixing fports and merriment, with serious thought and important labour; by labour she gives poignancy to pleasure, and by pleasure she reftores vigour to labour: Wisdom bluflies not to be merry, when she fees a fit occasion for mirth."

Mentor,

Mentor, as he pronounced thefc words, took up a lyre; which he touched with fo much skill, that Achitoas, {Iruck with furprize and jcaloufy, fufTcred his own inflrument to drop from his hand; his eyes fparklcd, his countenance changed colour, and his anguish and confusion would have been remarked by all present, if their attention had not been wholly engrolTed by the music of Mentor: they were afraid even to breathe, left they should mingle any other found with his harmony, and lose some ftrain of his enchanting song. Their enjoyment would, indeed, have been perfect, if they had not feared.it would end too soon; for the voice of Mentor, though it had no effeminate foftnefs, was capable of all the varieties of modulation; it was equally melodious and strong j and had an cxpreffion perfedlly adapted to the sentiment, even in the minuteft particular.

He first sung the praises of Jupiter, the father and the sovereign of Gods and men, who fhakes the universe with a nod: , he then reprcfented, under the figure of Minerva ifTuing from his head, that Wisdom, which, proceeding from himself, as its only and eternal source, is difFufcd, in boundless emanation, to irradiate such areated minds as are open to receive it. Thcfe truths he sung in such a ftrain of unafFe(5ted piety, and with such a fcnfe of their fublimity and importance, that his audience imagined themfclves tranfported to the fummit of Olympus, and placed in tlic presence of Jupitci*, whose eye is more piercing than his thunder. He then sung the fate of NarciiTus, who, becoming enamoured of his own beauty, at which he gazed inceflantly from the brink of a fountain that refle(5ted it, pined away with inefTccftual deftrc, and wa i changed into a flower that bears his name: and he last celebrated the untimely death of the beautiful Adonis, who periflied by the tufks of a boar, and whom Venus, unable to revive, lamented with unavailing grief.

U 2 The

The paflions of the audience correfponded with the subject: of the song; they melted filently into tears, and felt an inexprelTible delight in their grief. When the music was at an end, the Phenicians looked round upon each other with aflonifliment and admiration: one said^ " This is certainly Orpheus j and these are the ftrains, by which he tamed the wild beasts of the defart, and gave motion to trees and rocks: it was thus that he enchanted Cerberus, suspended the torments of Ixion and the Danaids, and touched with pity the inexorable breast of Pluto, who permitted him to lead back the fairEurydice from his dominions." Another said, it was Linus, the son of Apollo; and a third, that it was Apollo himself. Even Telemachus was little less furprized than the reftj for he did not know, that Mentor had been fo excellent a proficient in music. Achitoas, who had now fuiEcicntly-recoUecfted himself, to conceal his jealousy, began an encomiunn upon Mentor, but he blufhed as he spoke, and found himself unable to proceed. Mentor, who perceived his confusion, was desirous to hide it from others; and,, seeing he could not go on, he began to speak, that he might appear to interrupt him; he also endeavoured to console him, by giving him the praise that was due to his merit: Achitoas, however, could not be consoled; for he felt, that Mentob. surpassed him yet more in generosity, than in skill.

Ii the mean time, Telemachus addressed himself to Adoam: " I remember, said he, that you mentioned a voyage you made to Betica, since we returned together from Egypt: Betica is a country, concerning which many wonders are related, which it is difficult to believe; tell me, therefore, whether they are true." " I Ihall be glad, said Adoam, to describe that country to you; for it is well worthy of your curiosity, and is yet more extraordinary than fame has reported it.

« The

" The river Betis flows through a fertile country, where the air is always temperate, and the sky ferene. This river, which gives Bame to the country, falls in-to the ocean near the pillars of Hercules; not far from the place, where the sea heretofore, breaking its bounds, separated the country of Tarfis from the vast continent of Africa. This region seems to have preserved all the felicity of the golden age. In the winter, the freezing breath of tho north is never felt, and the season is, therefore, mild; but, in summer, there are always refrefhing gales from the west, which blow about the middle of the day, and in this season, thei-efore, the heat is never intense; fo that spring and autumn, espoused as it were to each other, walk hand in hand through the year. The vallies and the plains yield annually a double harvest; the hedges- consist of laurels, pomgranates, jafmines, and other trees, that are not only always green, but in flower; the mountains are covered with flocks whose wool, for its superior finenefs, is fought by all nations. This beautiful country contains also many mines of gold and fllver; but the inhabitants, happy in their simplicity, difdain to count fllver and gold among their riches; and value that only, which contributes to supply the real and natural wants of mankind.

" When we first traded with these people, we found gold and fllver used for plough (hares; and, in general, employed promifcuoufly with iron. As they carried on no foreign trade, they had no need of money; they were, almost all, either fliephcrds or hufbandmen; for as they fuflfered no arts to be exercised among them, but such as tended immediately to answer the neceflltics of life the number of artificers was consequently small: bcfides, the greater partj even of those that live by hufbandry, or keeping of deep, are flcilful in the exercise of such arts, as are necellary to manners fo funple and frugal.

" The

15°

" The women are employed in fpinning the wool, and maniifadluring it into ftuiTs, that are remarkably fine and white; they also make the bread, and drels the vii5tuals, which cofts them very little trouble, for they live chiefly upon fruits and milk, animal food being seldom eaten among them; of the fkins of their Ihcep, they make a light fort of covering for their legs and feet, with which they furnish their husbands and children: the woin,en also make the habitations, which are a kind of tents, covered either with waxed fkins, or the bark of trees; they make and wash all the cloaths of the family, and keep their houfcs in great neatnefs and order: their cloaths, indeed, are easily made; for, in that temperate climate, they wear only a piece of fine white llufF, which is not formed to the shape of the body, but wrapped round it fo as to fall in long plaits, and take what figure the wearer thinks fit,

" The men cultivate the ground, and manage their flocks; and the other arts which they pracftife, are those only of forming wood and iron into neceflary utenfils; and of iron they make little use, except in instruments of tillage: all the arts that relate to architecture, are useless to them; for they build no houses: " It fhews too much regard to the earth, say they, to ere<5t a building upon it which will lafl: longer than ourselves; if we are defended from the weather, it is sufficient." As to the other arts, which are fo highly efl;eemed in Greece, in Egypt, and in all other nations that have admitted the innumerable wants of poliflicd life, they hold them in the greatest detefl:ation, as the inventions of vanity and voluptuoufnefs.

" When they are toild of nations, who have the art of ereding fuperb buildings, and of making splendid furniture of silver and gold, fl;u£Fs adorned with embroidery and jewels, exquifite perfumes, li*!

fumes, delicious meats, and inftrumcnts of music; they reply, that the people of such nations, are extreamly unhappy, to have employed fo much ingenuity and labour to render themselves at once corrupt and wretched: these fuperfluities, say they, effeminate, intoxicate, and torment those who possess them; and tempt those who possess them not, to acquire them by fraud and violence. Can that fuperfluity be good, which tends only to make men evil? Are the people of these countries, more healthy or robuft; than we are? do they live longer, or agree better with each other? do they enjoy more liberty, tranquillity, and chearfulnefs? On the contrary, are they i)ot jealous of each other? arc not their hearts corroded with envy, and agitated by ambition, avarice, and terror? Arc they not incapable of plcafures, that arc pure and simple? and is not this incapacity, the tmavoidable confcquencc of the innumerable artificial wants, to which they arc enflavcd, and upon which they make all their happiness depend?

" Such, said Adoam, are the sentiments of this fagacious people, who have acquired wisdom only by the fludy of nature. They consider our refinements with abhorrence; and it must be confellcd, that, in their simplicity, there is something not only amiable, but great. They live in common, without any partition of lands. The head of every family is its king: this patriarchal monarch has a right to punish his children, or his grand children, if they arc guilty of a fault; but he firfl takes the advice of his family; puniffiment, indeed, is very rare among them; for innocence of manners, sincerity of heart, and hatred of vice, seem to be the natural pi-odu6lions of the country. Allrea, who is said to have quitted the earth, and ascended to Heaven, fcems flill to be hidden among these happy people: they have no need of judges, for every man fubmits to the jurifdi(5tion of conscience. They possess all things in common j for the cattle produce milk, 3 and and the fields and orchards fruit and grain of every kind in fadi abundance, that a people, fo frugal and temperate, have no need of property. They have no fixed place of abode; but, when they have Gonfumed the fruits, and exhausted the pafturage of one part of the paradise which they inhabit, they remove their tents to another: they have, therefore, no opposition of interest, but are connected by a fraternal affecSlion, which there is nothing to interrupt. This peace, this union, this liberty, they preserve, by rejedling superfluous wealth, and deceitful pleasure: they are all free, and they are all equaL

" Superiour wisdom, the result either of long experience or uncommon abilities, is the only mark of diftinc^lion among them; the fophiftry of fraud, the cry of violence, the contention of the bar, and the tumult of battle, are never heard in this sacred region, which the Gods have taken under their immediate protecftion: this soil has never been diftained with human blood; and even that of a lamb has rarely been fled upon it. When the inhabitants are told of bloody battles, rapid conqucfts, and the fubverfion of empires, which happen in other countries, they stand aghaft with afioniflimcnt.- " What, say they, do not men die fall enough, without being deflroyed by each other? Can any man be infenfiblc of the brevity of life; and can he who knows it, think life too long? Is it pofTible to suppose, that mankind came into the world, merely to propagate misery, and to harrafs and dellroy one another? Keither can the inhabitants of Betica comprehend, how those, who, by fubjugatirig great empires, obtain the name of conquerors, came to be fo much the obje6l of admiration. " To place happiness in the government of others, say they, is madnefs, since to govern well, is a painful task; but a desire to govern others against their will, is madnefs in a flill greater degree.- a wife man cannot, without violence to himfclf, submit to take upon him the government

J

•mcnt of a Avilling people, whom tlic Gods have committed t;o his -charge, or who apply to him for guidance and proteclion: to.govern people againfl their will, is to become miserable, for the dalfe honour of holding others in slavery. A conqueror is one, -whom the Gods, provoked by the wickedness of mankind, send, in their wrath, upon the earth, to ravage kingdoms; to fprcad I'ound them, in a vast circle, terror, misery, and despair; to dcflroy the brave, and enilave the free: has not he, who is ambitious of glory, fufiicient opportunities of acquiring it, by managing, with wisdom, what the Gods have entrusted to his care? can it be imagined, that praifc is to be merited only by arrogance and injustice, by ufurpation and tyranny? War should never be thought of, but in the defence of liberty: happy is he, who not being the Have of another, is free from the frantic ambition of making an- -otheraflave to him! These conquerors> who are reprefcnted as encircled with glory, rcfemble rivers that have overflowed their banks, which appear majeftic, indeed, but which dcCol'JXQ the countries they ought to fertili/.c."

After Adoam had given this description of Bctica, TELEMACHifs, who had liUcned to it with great delight, alkcd him fcvcral qucftions, which would not have been fuggcftcd by common curiosity. " Do the inhabitants of Betica, said he, drink wine?" " They are fo far from drinking wine, said Adoam, that they make none; not becaufc they are without grapes, for no country in the world produces them in greater plenty or perfection; but they content themselves with eating them as they do other fruit, and are afraid of wine as the corrupter of mankind: *' Wine, they say, is a species of poison, which produces madnefs; which does not kill men, indeed, but degrades them into brutes. Men may preserve their health and their vigour, without wine; but, with wine, not their health only, but their virtue is in danger,"

X T£LEMA-

1^4 B o O K viir.

TELEMAcnus then enquired, what laws were cftablifhed in Be* tica, relating to marriage. No man, said Adoam, is allowed to have more than one wife; and every man is obliged to keep his wife as long as Ihc lives; in this country, a man's reputation depends us much upon his fidelity to his wife, as a woman's reputation, in other countries, depends upon her fidelity to her husband. No people ever pra6lifed fo fcrupulous a decorum, or were fo jealous of their chafiity. Their women are beautiful, and have that sweet and tender fenfibility, which is more than beauty; but they borrow no advantages from art: there is all the simplicity of nature, both in their manners, and their dress j and they take their share of the labour of the day. Their marriages are peaceable, fruitful, and undefiled: the husband and wife fcem to be. two bodies animated by one foul, the husband manages affairs without, and the wife within; she provides for his refreihment at his i^eturn, and seems to live only to please him; flae gains his confidence; and as she charms him yet more by her virtue, than her beauty, their happiness is such as death only can destroy. From this- temperance, fobriety, and simplicity of manners, they derive longevity and health; and it is common to see among them, men of an hundred, or an hundred and twenty years old, who have all the chearr fulness and vigour that make life, desirable.

" But how, said Telemachus, do they efcapc the calamities of war.^ are they never invaded by other nations?" " Nature, says Adoam, has separated them from other nations, by the sea on one fide, and by mountains almost inacceirible on the other: besides, their virtue has imprefled foreign powers with reverence and awe. When any contcft arises among the neighbouring fiates, they frequently make a common depofit of the territory in quefiion, in the hands of the Bcticansj and appoint them arbitrators of the dispute. As these wife people are guilty of no violence, they arc never mif-

3 trufiedi iSS truftcd; and they laugh, when they hear of kings who difagree about the boundaries of their coimtry: " Arc they afraid, lay they, that the earth iliould not have room for its inhabitants? there will always be much more land than can be cultivated; and while any remains unappropriated by cultivation, we should think it folly to defend even our own againfl those who would invade it." These people are, indeed, wholly free from pride, fraud, and ambition; they do no injury, they violate no compact, they covet no territory; their neighbours, therefore, having nothing to fear from them, nor any hope of making themselves feared by them, give them no diflurbance. They would sooner abandon their country, or die upon the spot, than submit to a Hate of slavery $ fo that, the fame qualities that render them incapable of fubjugating others, render it almost impofTible for others to sub jugate them. For these reasons, there is always a profound peace between them and their neighbours."

Adoam proceeded to give an account of the traffic which the Phenicians carried on in Betica: " The inhabitants of that happy country, said he, were astonished, when they first saw the waves bring strangers from a diflant region to their coast: they received us, however, with great benevolence; and gave us part of whatever they had, without asking or expccSting a return. They suffered us to establish a colony on the island of Gadira, and offered us whatever should remain of their wool, after their own neceirities were supplied; sending us, at the fame time, a considerable quantity of it as a prcfent; for they have great plcafm-e in beftowing their fuperfluities upon strangers.

** As to their mines, they made no use of them; and, therefore, without reludance, left them entirely to us. Men, they thought,

1S6 BO O K VIII.

V y were not over wife, who, with fo much labour, fearchcd the bowels of the earth, for that "which could give no true happiness, nor satisfy any natural want. They admonished us not to dig in the earth fo deep: " Content yourselves, said they, with ploughing it, and it will yield you real benefits in return; it will yield thole things, to which gold and fllver owe all their value; for gold and fdvcr arc valuable, only as a means of procuring the neceflaries of life."

" We frequently offered to teach them navigation, and carry fomc of their youth with us into Phenicia; but they never would confen t, that their children Ihould live as we do. " If our children were to go with you, said they, their wants would be soon as numerous as yoiirs: the namclefs variety of things which you have made necessary, would become necessary to them; they would be refllefs till these artificial wants were supplied; and they would renounce their virtue, by the pradice of diflioneft arts to supply them: they would soon refemble a man of good limbs, and a found, constitution, ^yho having, by long inadlivity, forgot how to walk, is under the neceflity of being carried like a cripple." As to navigation, they admire it as a curious art, but they believe it to be pernicious: " If these people, say they, have the necefi!aries of life in their own country, what do they seek in ours? Will not those things which satisfy the wants of nature, satisfy their wants f Surely, they that defy the tempefl, to gratify avarice or luxury, defcrve shipwreck!"

Telemaghus listened to this discourse of Adoam, with unfpeakablc delight; and rejoiced that there was yet a people in the world, who, by a perfe(5l conformity to the law of nature, were fo wife^ and fo happy: " How different, said he, are the manners of this nation, from those which, in nations that have obtained the highest reputation reputation for wisdom, are tainted throughout with vanity and ambition! To us, the folHcs that have depraved us are fo habitual, that we can scarcely bcheve this fimpUcity, though it is indeed the fimpUcity of nature, can be real: we consider the manners of these people as a splendid fiction, and they ought to regard om's as a prepoflerous dream."

The END of the E I G H T H BOOK, o^.m^a!/.

I. t^ritmftTn

IX.

WHILE Telemachus and Adoam were engaged in this conversation, forgetful of sleep, and not perceiving that the night was aheady half spent; an unfriendly and deceitful power turned their course from Ithaca, which Athamas, their pilot, fought in vain. Neptune, although he was propitious to the Phenicians, could not bear the efeape of Telemachus from the tempeft which had fliipwrecked him on the island of Calypso; and Venus was still more provoked at the triumph of a youth, who had been victorious against all the power and the wiles of Love. Her bosom throbbed at once with grief and indignation; and Ihe could not endure the places, where Telemachus had treated her fovereignty with contempt: turning therefore from Cythera, Paphos, and Idalia, and difregarding the homage that was paid her in the ille of Cyprus, Ihe ascended the radiant fummit of Olympus, where the Gods were aiTembled round the throne of Jupiter. From this place, place, they beheld the stars rolling beneath their feet; and this earth, an obfcurc and diminutive spot, is scarcely diflinguiflied ' among them: the vafl oceans, by which its continents are divided, appear but as drops of water; and the most extended empires but as a little fand, scattered between them: the innumerable multitudes that fwarm upon the surface, are but like infers quickening in the sun; and the most powerful armies referable a clufter of emmets, that are contending for a grairi of corn, or a blade of grafs. Whatever is most; important in the consideration of men>. excites the laughter of the Gods as the fport of children; and what we distinguish by the names of grandeur, glory, power, and policy, are, in their fight, no better than misery and folly.

On this awful, this ftupendous height, Jupiter has fixed his everlasting throne. His eyes penetrate to the center, and pass in a moment through all the labyrinths of the heart: his smile diftufes over all nature ferenity and joy; but, at his frown, not earth only* but heaven trembles. The Gods themselves are dazzled with the glory that furrounds him; and approach not his throne, but withreverence ajid fear.

He was now surrounded by the celestial Deities; and Venus presented herself before him, in all the splendor of that beauty, of which she is herself the source: her robe, which flowed negligently round her, exceeded in brightness all the colours with which Iris decks herself amidst the duflcy clouds, when {he promises to afl'rightcd mortals, that the storm shall have an end, and that calm and funfliine shall return. Her waift was encircled by that mysterious zone, which comprises every grace that can excite defirc; . and her hair was tied negligently behind, in a fillet of gold. . The Gods were struck with her beauty, as if they had never seen it before; and their eyes were dazzled with its brightness, like those.

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