hem
always on his pillow. How like a mad butcher amid a flock of sheep appears
the hero of the Iliad, in the following fine lines of Mr. Pope, which
conclude the twentieth book.

His fiery coursers, as the chariot rolls,
Tread down whole ranks, and crush out heroes' souls;
Dash'd from their hoofs, as o'er the dead they fly,
Black bloody drops the smoaking chariot dye;--
The spiky wheels through heaps of carnage tore,
And thick the groaning axles dropp'd with gore;
High o'er the scene of death ACHILLES stood,
All grim with dust, all horrible with blood;
Yet still insatiate, still with rage on flame,
Such is the lust of never-dying fame!

The cure must be taken from moral writers. Woolaston says, Caesar conquered
Pompey; that is, a man whose name consisted of the letters C. a. e. s. a.
r. conquered a long time ago a man, whose name consisted of the letters P.
o. m. p. e. y. and that this is all that remains of either of them. Juvenal
also attacks this mode of insanity, Sat. X. 166.

--I, demens, et saevas curre per alpes,
Ut pueris placeas, et declamatio fias!

Which is thus translated by Dr. Johnson,

And left a name, at which the world grew pale,
To point a moral, or adorn a tale!

10. _Maeror._ Grief. A perpetual voluntary contemplation of all the
circumstances of some great loss, as of a favourite child. In general the
painful ideas gradually decrease in energy, and at length the recollection
becomes more tender and less painful. The letter of Sulpicius to Cicero on
the loss of his daughter is ingenious. The example of David on the loss of
his child is heroic.

A widow lady was left in narrow circumstances with a boy and a girl, two
beautiful and lively children, the one six and the other seven years of
age; as her circumstances allowed her to keep but one maid-servant, these
two children were the sole attention, employment, and consolation of her
life; she fed them, dressed them, slept with them, and taught them herself;
they were both snatched from her by the gangrenous sore throat in one week:
so that she lost at once all that employed her, as well as all that was
dear to her. For the first three or four days after their death, when any
friend visited her, she sat upright, with her eyes wide open, without
shedding tears, and affected to speak of indifferent things. Afterwards she
began to weep much, and for some weeks talked to her friends of nothing
else but her dear childr