The Spectator, Volumes 1, 2 and 3 - With Translations and Index for the Series
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The Spectator, Volumes 1, 2 and 3 - With Translations and Index for the Series


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The Spectator
in three volumes: translations and index for: Spectator Volume 1 (Nos. 1-202) Spectator Volume 2 (Nos. 203416) Spectator Volume 3 (Nos 417-635).
A New Edition Reproducing the Original Text Both as First Issued and as Corrected by its Authors with Introduction, Notes, and Index edited by Henry Morley 1891
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A. Links from this page to Spectator Volumes 1, 2 & 3 will work if: 1. you place the other Spectator folders in the same folder with this Spectator Volume 3 folder 2. then rename the Spectator folders SV1 & SV2 (this folder being SV3) 3. then rename the html files inside them Spectator1.html & Spectator2.html, and the main file in this folder, Spectator3.html (this file being transindex.html) Nearly all links from this page are to Spectator issues, Numbers 1-635, so they will not work unless you do this. If you don't do this, you can simply use this page as a reference, following up its information by going to the other file and using its Contents. e.g. if you are looking for the motto to paper No. 312, or look in the index and
find the information you want is in No. 312, you can go to Spectator Volume 2 (Nos. 203-416) and in its Contents, click on No. 312. Simply click on your Back button to return to this page. B. When reading the Greek or Latin motto at the head of each Spectator, just click on this button to see the translation (click on the Spectator No. or your browser's Back button, to return). C. Due to the sheer ...



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The Spectatorin three volumes: translations andindexfor: Spectator Volume 1 (Nos. 1-202)Spectator Volume 2 (Nos. 203-416)Spectator Volume 3 (Nos 417-635).A New EditionReproducing the Original Text Both as First Issuedand as Corrected by its Authorswith Introduction, Notes, and Indexedited by Henry Morley1891Help for reading this page:A. Links from this page to Spectator Volumes 1, 2 & 3 will work if:1. you place the other Spectator folders in the same folder with thisSpectator Volume 3 folder2. then rename the Spectator folders SV1 & SV2 (this folder being SV3)3. then rename the html files inside them Spectator1.html &Spectator2.html, and the main file in this folder, Spectator3.html (thisfile being transindex.html)Nearly all links from this page are to Spectator issues, Numbers 1-635, so theywill not work unless you do this.If you don't do this, you can simply use this page as a reference, following up itsinformation by going to the other file and using its Contents. e.g. if you are looking for the motto to paper No. 312, or look in the index andfind the information you want is in No. 312, you can go to Spectator Volume 2(Nos. 203-416) and in its Contents, click on No. 312.Simply click on your Back button to return to this page.
B.  When reading the Greek or Latin motto at the head of each Spectator, justclick on this button to see the translation (click on the Spectator No. or yourbrowser's Back button, to return).C.  Due to the sheer size of these books-in-one-page, cross-volume links willtake a few seconds, more or less depending on the speed of your processorand amount of RAM. Table of Contents / IndexAdditional Notes to theSpectator seriesTranslations of the Mottos to the Spectator seriesSome Advertisements from the Original Numbers of the Spectator seriesIndexAdditional Notes[Volume 1 link:to No. 123The following letter, dated July 21, 1711, was sent by Addison to his friend Mr.Wortley Montagu, with No. 123 of the Spectator.'Dear Sir,'Being very well pleased with this day's Spectator I cannot forbearsending you one of them, and desiring your opinion of the story in it.When you have a son I shall be glad to be his Leontine, as mycircumstances will probably be like his. I have within thistwelvemonth lost a place of £200 per ann., an estate in the Indies of£14,000, and what is worse than all the rest, my mistress. Hear this,and wonder at my philosophy. I find they are going to take away myIrish place from me too: to which I must add, that I have just resignedmy fellowship, and that stocks sink every day. If you have any hintsor subjects, pray send me up a paper full. I long to talk an eveningwith you. I believe I shall not go for Ireland this summer, andperhaps would pass a month with you if I knew where. LadyBellasis is very much your humble servant. Dick Steele and I oftenremember you.'I am, Dear Sir, Yours eternally.To Nos. 453, 461, and 465.The Retrospective Review, vol. xi. for 1825, in a cordially appreciative review ofthe writings of Marvell, says,'Captain Thompson was a very incorrect and injudicious editor ofMarvell's works. A very contemptible charge of plagiarism is also
preferred by the editor against Addison for the insertion of threehymns in the Spectator, Nos. 453, 461, and 465; no proof whateveris vouchsafed that they belong to Marvell, and the hymn inserted inthe Spectator, No. 461, "When Israel freed from Pharaoh's land," isnow known to be the noble composition of Dr. Watts.'Captain Edward Thompson's edition of Marvell in 3 volumes quarto was printedfor the editor in 1776. Its great blunder was immediately disposed of in theGentleman's Magazine for September, 1776, and February, 1777, where it wasshown for example that Dr. Watts had claimed and transferred his version of the114th Psalm (which Captain Thompson supposed to have been claimed by'Tickle') to his volume of Divine Psalms and Hymns, published in 1719. In thepreface to that volume Dr. Watts wrote,'Where I have used three or four lines together of any author I haveacknowledged it in the notes.'He did make frequent acknowledgment of lines or thoughts taken from otherpoets in Psalms 6, 21, 63, 104, 139. But in a note to Ps. 114 he absolutelyspoke of the work as his own. Now the ground upon which Thompson ascribedthis piece to Marvell is precisely that on which he also ascribed to MarvellAddison's poems in Nos. 453 and 465 of the Spectator. He found them all in thelatter part of a book of extracts of which he said that the first part was inMarvell's handwriting, 'and the rest copied by his order.' It is very doubtfulwhether even the first part of the MS. book, containing verse of Marvell's, wasreally in Marvell's handwriting, and that the part written later was copied by hisorder, is an unfounded assumption. Captain Thompson said of the MS. bookthat it was many years in the care of Mr. Nettleton, and communicated to theeditor by Mr. Thomas Raikes.—Probably it was Mr. Nettleton who in his youthhad added to the book copies of Addison's and Dr. Watts's verses from theSpectator, and Mallet's version of the old ballad of William and Margaret, all ofwhich pieces Captain Edward Thompson therefore supposed to have beenwritten by Marvell.ContentsTranslations of the MottosNo.SourceTranslationVol.112345Hor.One with a flash begins, and ends in smoke;Ars Poet.Another out of smoke brings glorious light,ver. 143.And (without raising expectation high)Surprises us with dazzling miracles.(Roscommon)Juv.Six more, at least, join their consenting voice.Sat. vii. 167.Luc.—What studies please, what most delight,1. iv. 959.And fill men's thoughts, they dream them o'er atnight.(Creech)Hor.One of uncommon silence and reserve.2 Sat. vi. 58.Hor.Admitted to the sight, would you not laugh?Ars Poet.ver. 5.
678910111213141516171819202122Juv.Sat. xiii. 54.Hor.2 Ep. ii. 208.Virg.Æn. i. 415.Juv.Sat. xv. 163.Virg.Georg. i.201.Juv.Sat. ii. 63.Pers.Sat. v. 92.Mart.OvidMet. iv. 590.OvidArs Am. i.159.Hor.1 Ep. i. ii.Juv.x. 191.Hor.2 Ep. i. 187.Hor.1 Sat. iv. 17.Hom.Hor.1 Ep. v. 28.Hor.Ars Poet.ver. 5.'Twas impious then (so much was age revered)For youth to keep their seats when an old manappear'd.Visions and magic spells can you despise,And laugh at witches, ghosts, and prodigies?They march obscure, for Venus kindly shroudsWith mists their persons, and involves in clouds.(Dryden)Tiger with tiger, bear with bear, you'll findIn leagues offensive and defensive join'd.(Tate)So the boat's brawny crew the current stem,And, slow advancing, struggle with the stream:But if they slack their hands, or cease to strive,Then down the flood with headlong haste theydrive.(Dryden)The doves are censured, while the crows arespared.I root th' old woman from thy trembling heart.Were you a lion, how would you behave?Wretch that thou art! put off this monstrous shape.Light minds are pleased with trifles.What right, what true, what fit we justly call,Let this be all my care—for this is all.(Pope)—A visage rough,Deform'd, unfeatured.But now our nobles too are fops and vain,Neglect the sense, but love the painted scene.(Creech)Thank Heaven, that made me of an humble mind;To action little, less to words inclined!Thou dog in forehead.(Pope)There's room enough, and each may bring hisfriend.(Creech)—Whatever contradicts my senseI hate to see, and never can believe.(Roscommon)
2324252627282930313233343536Virg.Æn. ix. 420.Hor.1 Sat. ix. 3.Virg.Æn. xii. 46.Hor.1 Od. iv. 13.Hor.1 Ep. i 20.imitatedHor.2 Od. x. 19.Hor.1 Sat. x. 23.Hor.1 Ep. vi. 65.Virg.Æn. vi. 266.Hor.1 Sat. v. 64.Hor.1 Od. xxx. 5.Juv.Sat. xv. 159.Catull.Carm. 39in Enat.Virg.Æn. iii. 583.Fierce Volscens foams with rage, and gazinground,Descry'd not him who gave the fatal wound;Nor knew to fix revenge.(Dryden)Comes up a fop (I knew him but by fame),And seized my hand, and call'd me by name——My dear!—how dost?And sickens by the very means of health.With equal foot, rich friend, impartial fateKnocks at the cottage and the palace gate:Life's span forbids thee to extend thy cares,And stretch thy hopes beyond thy years:Night soon will seize, and you must quickly goTo storied ghosts, and Pluto's house below.Long as to him, who works for debt, the day;Long as the night to her, whose love's away;Long as the year's dull circle seems to runWhen the brisk minor pants for twenty-one:So slow th' unprofitable moments roll,That lock up all the functions of my soul;That keep me from myself, and still delayLife's instant business to a future day:That task, which as we follow, or despise,The eldest is a fool, the youngest wise:Which done, the poorest can no wants endure,And which not done, the richest must be poor.Nor does Apollo always bend his bow.Both tongues united, sweeter sounds produce,Like Chian mixed with Palernian juice.If nothing, as Mimnermus strives to prove,Can e'er be pleasant without mirth and love,Then live in mirth and love, thy sports pursue.(Creech)What I have heard, permit me to relate.He wants no tragic vizor to increaseHis natural deformity of face.The graces with their zones unloosed;The nymphs, with beauties all exposedFrom every spring, and every plain;Thy powerful, hot, and winged boy;And youth, that's dull without thy joy;And Mercury, compose thy train.(Creech)From spotted skins the leopard does refrain.(Tate)Nothing so foolish as the laugh of fools.Things the most out of nature we endure.
373839404142434445464748495051Virg.Æn. vii. 805.Mart.Hor.2 Ep. ii. 102.imitatedHor.2 Ep. i. 208.imitatedOvid.Met. i. 654.Hor.2 Ep. i. 202.imitatedVirg.Æn. vi. 854.Hor.Ars Poet.ver. 123.Juv.Sat. iii. 100OvidMet. 1 i. ver.9.Mart.OvidMet. xiv.652.Mart.Jun.Sat. xix. 321Hor.1 Ep. ii. 127.Unbred to spinning, in the loom unskill'd.(Dryden)One would not please too much.Much do I suffer, much, to keep in peaceThis jealous, waspish, wrong-headed rhyming race.(Pope)Yet lest you think I rally more than teach,Or praise, malignant, arts I cannot reach,Let me for once presume t' instruct the times,To know the poet from the man of rhymes;'Tis he, who gives my breast a thousand pains,Can make me feel each passion that he feigns;Enrage, compose, with more than magic art,With pity, and with terror, tear my heart;And snatch me o'er the earth, or through the air,To Thebes, to Athens, when he will, and where.(Pope)So found, is worse than lost.(Addison)Loud as the wolves on Orca's stormy steep,Howl to the roarings of the northern deep:Such is the shout, the long applauding note,At Quin's high plume, or Oldfield's petticoat:Or when from court a birth-day suit bestow'dSinks the last actor in the tawdry load.Booth enters—hark! the universal peal!—But has he spoken?—Not a syllable—What shook the stage, and made the people stare?Cato's long wig, flower'd gown, and lacker'd chair.(Pope)Be these thy arts; to bid contention cease,Chain up stern wars, and give the nations peace;O'er subject lands extend thy gentle sway,And teach with iron rod the haughty to obey.Now hear what every auditor expects.(Roscommon)The nation is a company of players.The jarring seeds of ill-concerted things.Laugh, if you are wise.Through various shapes he often finds access.Men and manners I describe.Good taste and nature always speak the same.He from the taste obscene reclaims our youth.(Pope)
5253545556575859606162636465666768Virg.Æn. i. 78.Hor.Ars Poet.ver. 359.Hor.1 Ep. xi. 28.Pers.Sat. v. 129Lucan.i. 454.Juv.Sat. vi. 251Hor.Ars Poet.ver. 361.SenecaPers.Sat. iii. 85Pers.Sat. v. 19Hor.Ars Poet.ver. 309.Hor.Ars Poet.ver. i.Juv.Sat. iii. 183Hor.1 Sat. x. 90.Hor.1 Od. vi. 21.Sallust.OvidMet. i. 355To crown thy worth, she shall be ever thine,And make thee father of a beauteous line.Homer himself hath been observed to nod.(Roscommon)Laborious idleness our powers employs.Our passions play the tyrants in our breasts.Happy in their mistake.What sense of shame in woman's breast can lie,Inured to arms, and her own sex to fly?Poems like pictures are.Busy about nothing.Is it for this you gain those meagre looks,And sacrifice your dinner to your books?'Tis not indeed my talent to engageIn lofty trifles, or to swell my pageWith wind and noise.(Dryden)Sound judgment is the ground of writing well.(Roscommon)If in a picture, Piso, you should seeA handsome woman with a fish's tail,Or a man's head upon a horse's neck,Or limbs of beasts, of the most different kinds,Cover'd with feathers of all sorts of birds;Would you not laugh, and think the painter mad?Trust me that book is as ridiculous,Whose incoherent style, like sick men's dreams,Varies all shapes, and mixes all extremes.(Roscommon)The face of wealth in poverty we wear.Demetrius and Tigellius, know your place;Go hence, and whine among the school-boy race.Behold a ripe and melting maidBound 'prentice to the wanton trade:Ionian artists, at a mighty price,Instruct her in the mysteries of vice,What nets to spread, where subtle baits to lay;And with an early hand they form the temper'd clay.(Roscommon)Too fine a dancer for a virtuous woman.We two are a multitude.
6970717273747576777879808182838485Virg.Georg. i. 54Hor.1 Ep. ii. 63.OvidEpist. iv. 10Virg.Georg. iv.208Virg.Æn. i. 328.Virg.Æn. iv. 88.Hor.1 Ep. xvii.23.Hor.1 Ep. viii. 17.Mart.Epig. i. 87Hor.1 Ep. xvi. 52.Hor.1 Ep. ix. 27.Stat.Theb. ii.128.Juv.Sat iii. 33Virg.Æn. i. 464.Virg.Æn. ii. 6.Hor.Ars Poet.ver. 319.This ground with Bacchus, that with Ceres suits;That other loads the trees with happy fruits,A fourth with grass, unbidden, decks the ground:Thus Tmolus is with yellow saffron crown'd;India black ebon and white iv'ry bears;And soft Idume weeps her od'rous tears:Thus Pontus sends her beaver stones from far:And naked Spaniards temper steel for war:Epirus for th' Elean chariot breeds(In hopes of palms) a race of running steeds.This is th' original contract; these the lawsImposed by nature, and by nature's cause.(Dryden)Sometimes the vulgar see and judge aright.Love bade me write.Th' immortal line in sure succession reigns,The fortune of the family remains,And grandsires' grandsons the long list contains.(Dryden)O Goddess! for no less you seem.The works unfinish'd and neglected lie.All fortune fitted Aristippus well.(Creech)As you your fortune bear, we will bear you.(Creech)What correspondence can I hold with you,Who are so near, and yet so distant too?Could we but call so great a genius ours!The good, for virtue's sake, abhor to sin.(Creech)Those that beyond sea go, will sadly find,They change their climate only, not their mind.(Creech)As when the tigress hears the hunter's din,Dark angry spots distain her glossy skin.His fortunes ruin'd, and himself a slave.And with the shadowy picture feeds his mind.Who can such woes relate, without a tear,As stern Ulysses must have wept to hear?—When the sentiments and manners please,And all the characters are wrought with ease,Your tale, though void of beauty, force, and art,
8687888990919293OvidMet. ii. 447Virg.Ecl. ii. 17Virg.Ecl. iii. 16Pers.Sat. v. 64Virg.Georg. iii. 90Virg.Georg. iii.244Hor.2 Ep. ii. 61.imitatedHor.1 Od. xi. 6.More strongly shall delight, and warm the heart;Than where a lifeless pomp of verse appears,And with sonorous trifles charms our ears.(Francis)How in the looks does conscious guilt appear!(Addison)Trust not too much to an enchanting face.(Dryden)What will not masters do, when servants thuspresume?Pers.From thee both old and young with profitlearnThe bounds of good and evil to discern.Corn.Unhappy he, who does this workadjourn,And to to-morrow would the searchdelay:His lazy morrow will be like to-day.Pers.But is one day of ease too much toborrow?Corn.Yes, sure; for yesterday was once to-morrow:That yesterday is gone, and nothinggain'd;And all thy fruitless days will thus bedrain'd,For thou hast more to-morrows yet toask,And wilt be ever to begin thy task;Who, like the hindmost chariot-wheels,are curst,Still to be near, but ne'er to reach thefirst.(Dryden)In all the rage of impotent desire,They feel a quenchless flame, a fruitless fire.—They rush into the flame;For love is lord of all, and is in all the same.(Dryden)—What would you have me do,When out of twenty I can please not two?—One likes the pheasant's wing, and one the leg;The vulgar boil, the learned roast an egg;Hard task, to hit the palate of such guests.(Pope)Thy lengthen'd hopes with prudence boundProportion'd to the flying hour:While thus we talk in careless ease,The envious moments wing their flight;Instant the fleeting pleasure seize,Nor trust to-morrow's doubtful light.(Francis)
949596979899100101102103104105106107108109Mart.Epig. xxiii.10SenecaTrag.Hor.2 Sat. vii. 2.Virg.Æn. vi. 436.Juv.Sat. vi. 500Hor.1 Sat. vi. 63.Hor.1 Sat. v. 44.Hor.2 Ep. i. 5.Phædr.Fab. xiv. 3.Hor.Ars Poet. v.240.Virg.Æn. i. 316.Ter.Andr. Act i.Sc. I.Hor.1 Od. xvii.14.Phædr.Epilog. i. 2.Phædr.Fab. v. 2.Hor.2 Sat. ii. 3.The present joys of life we doubly taste,By looking back with pleasure to the past.Light sorrows loose the tongue, but great enchain.(P.)—The faithful servant, and the true.They prodigally threw their lives away.So studiously their persons they adorn.You know to fix the bounds of right and wrong.The greatest blessing is a pleasant friend.Edward and Henry, now the boast of fame,And virtuous Alfred, a more sacred name,After a life of generous toils endured,The Gaul subdued, or property secured,Ambition humbled, mighty cities stormd,'Or laws established, and the world reform'd:Closed their long glories with a sigh to findTh' unwilling gratitude of base mankind.(Pope)The mind ought sometimes to be diverted, that itmay return the better to thinking.Such all might hope to imitate with ease:Yet while they strive the same success to gain,Should find their labour and their hopes are vain.(Francis)With such array Harpalyce bestrodeHer Thracian courser.(Dryden)I take to be a principal rule of life, not to be toomuch addicted to any one thing.Too much of anything is good for nothing.(Eng. Prov.)Here plenty's liberal horn shall pourOf fruits for thee a copious show'r,Rich honours of the quiet plain.The Athenians erected a large statue to Æsop, andplaced him, though a slave, on a lasting pedestal:to show that the way to honour lies openindifferently to all.Out of breath to no purpose, and very busy aboutnothing.Of plain good sense, untutor'd in the schools.
Yet the best blood by learning is refined,And virtue arms the solid mind;Whilst vice will stain the noblest race,And the paternal stamp efface.(Oldisworth)A great book is a great evil.An agreeable companion upon the road is as goodas a coach.How much of emptiness we find in things!—All things are full of Jove.This thirst of kindred blood, my sons, detest,Nor turn your force against your country's breast.(Dryden)Rutulians, Trojans, are the same to me.(Dryden)—The fatal dartSticks in his side, and rankles in his heart.(Dryden)With voluntary dreams they cheat their minds.—I deem their breasts inspiredWith a divine sagacity—The city men call Rome, unskilful clown,I thought resembled this our humble town.(Warton)—The dread of nothing moreThan to be thought necessitous and poor.(Pooly)Her looks were deep imprinted in his heart.The echoing hills and chiding hounds invite.Pray for a sound mind in a sound body.To search for truth in academic groves.First, in obedience to thy country's rites,Worship th' immortal gods.—Harmonious discord.All things are full of Horror and affright,And dreadful ev'n the silence of the night.(Dryden)Pers.Sat. i. 1Lucan.i. 98.Virg.Æn. vi. 832.Virg.Æn. x. 108.Hor.4 Od. iv. 33.Virg.Ecl. iii. 66Publ. Syr.Frag.Virg.Ecl. i. 20Virg.Georg. i. 415Virg.Ecl. viii. 108Virg.Æn. iv. 73.Virg.Georg. iii. 43Juv.Sat. x. 356Hor.1 Ep. xviii.24.Virg.Æn. iv. 4.Pythag.Hor.2 Ep. ii. 45.Virg.Æn. ii. 755.128127126125124123122121120112113114115116117118119110111