Not far from these Phoenician Dido stood;

Fresh from her wound, her bosom bath'd in blood:
Whom when the Trojan hero hardly knew,
Obscure in shades, and with a doubtful view,
Doubtful as he who sees, thro' dusky night,
Or thinks he sees, the moon's uncertain light,
With tears he first approach'd the sullen shade,
And, as his love inspir'd him, thus he said:

Unhappy queen! then is the common breath Of rumour true, in your reported death? And I, alas! the cause! by heav'n I vow, And all the Powers that rule the realms below, Unwilling I forsook your friendly state! Commanded by the gods, and forc'd by Fate; Those gods, that Fate, whose unresisted might Have sent me to these regions void of light, Through the vast empire of eternal night. Nor dar'd I to presume, that, press'd with grief, My flight should urge you to this dire relief. Stay, stay your steps, and listen to my vows; 'Tis the last interview that Fate allows!' In vain he thus attempts her mind to move, With tears and pray'rs, and late-repenting love. Disdainfully she look'd; then turning round, She fix'd her eyes unmov'd upon the ground; And what he says, and swears, regards no more Than the deaf rocks, when the loud billows roar; But whirl'd away, to shun his hateful sight, Hid in the forest, and the shades of night: Then sought Sichæus through the shady grove. Who answer'd all her cares, and equall'd all her love.

No. 134. THURSDAY, FEB. 16, 1709-10.

Not even the hardest of our foes could hear,
Nor stern Ulysses tell without a tear.

DRYDEN.

SHEER-LANE, FEBRUARY 15.

I WAS awakened very early this morning by the distant crowing of a cock, which I thought had the finest pipe I ever heard. He seemed to me to strain his voice more than ordinary, as if he designed to make himself heard to the remotest corner of this lane. Having entertained myself a little before I went to bed with a discourse on the transmigration of men into other animals, I could not but fancy that this was the soul of some drowsy bell-man who used to sleep upon his post, for which he was condemned to do penance in feathers, and distinguish the several watches of the night under the outside of a cock. While I was thinking of the condition of this poor bell-man in masquerade, I heard a great knocking at my door, and was soon after told by my maid, that my worthy friend the tall black gentleman, who frequents the coffee-houses hereabouts, desired to speak with me. This ancient Pythagorean, who has as much honesty as any man living, but good nature to an excess, brought me the following petition, which I am apt to believe he penned himself, the petitioner not being able to express his

mind on paper under his present form, however famous he might have been for writing verses when he was in his original shape.

"TO ISAAC BICKERSTAFF, ESQUIRE, CENSOR OF GREAT BRITAIN.

"The humble petition of JOB CHANTICLEER, in behalf of himself, and many other poor sufferers in the same condition,

"Showeth,

"That whereas your petitioner is truly descended of the ancient family of the Chanticleers, at Cockhall, near Rumford, in Essex, it has been his misfortune to come into the mercenary hands of a certain ill-disposed person, commonly called a higgler, who, under the close confinement of a pannier, has conveyed him and many others up to London; but hearing by chance of your worship's great humanity towards Robin-red-breasts and Tom-tits, he is emboldened to beseech you to take his deplorable condition into your tender consideration, who otherwise must suffer, with many thousands more as innocent as himself, that inhuman barbarity of a ShroveTuesday persecution*. We humbly hope, that our courage and vigilance may plead for us on that occasion.

"Your poor petitioner most earnestly implores your immediate protection from the insolence of the rabble, the batteries of cat-sticks, and a painful lingering death..

"And your Petitioner," &c.

"From my Coop in Clare-market, Feb. 13, 1709."

Upon delivery of this petition, the worthy gentleman, who presented it, told me the customs of

The original date of this paper is "From Tuesday Feb. 14, to Thursday Feb. 16, 1709."

many wise nations of the East, through which he had travelled; that nothing was more frequent than to see a dervise lay out a whole year's income in the redemption of larks or linnets, that had unhappily fallen into the hands of bird-catchers; that it was also usual to run between a dog and a bull to keep them from hurting one another, or to lose the use of a limb in parting a couple of furious mastiffs. He then insisted upon the ingratitude and disingenuity of treating in this manner a necessary and domestic animal, that has made the whole house keep good hours, and called up the cook-maid for five years together. "What would a Turk† say,"

*

continued he, "should he hear, that it is a common entertainment in a nation, which pretends to be one of the most civilized of Europe, to tie an innocent animal to a stake, and put him to an ignominious death, who has perhaps been the guardian and proveditor of a poor family, as long as he was able to get eggs for his mistress?"

I thought what this gentleman said was very reasonable; and have often wondered, that we do not lay aside a custom, which makes us appear barbarous to nations much more rude and unpolished than ourselves. Some French writers have represented this diversion of the common people much to our disadvantage, and imputed it to natural fierceness and cruelty of temper; as they do some other entertainments peculiar to our nation: I mean those elegant diversions of bull-baiting and prize-fighting, with the like ingenious recreations of the beargarden. I wish I knew how to answer this reproach which is cast upon us, and excuse the death of so

* Disingenuousness.

The word Turk is used here to signify a savage, or a barbarian.

many innocent cocks, bulls, dogs, and bears, as have been set together by the ears, or died untimely deaths, only to make us sport.

It will be said, that these are the entertainments of common people. It is true; but they are the entertainments of no other common people. Besides, I am afraid, there is a tincture of the same savage spirit in the diversions of those of higher rank, and more refined relish. Rapin observes, that the English theatre very much delights in bloodshed, which he likewise represents as an indication of our tempers. I must own, there is something very horrid in the public executions of an English tragedy. Stabbing and poisoning, which are performed behind the scenes in other nations, must be done openly among us, to gratify the audience. When Sandford was upon poor the stage, I have seen him groaning upon a wheel, stuck with daggers, impaled alive, calling his executioners, with a dying voice, cruel dogs and villains!' and all this to please his judicious spectators, who were wonderfully delighted with seeing a man in torment so well acted. The truth of it is, the politeness of our English stage, in regard to decorum, is very extraordinary. We act murders, to show our intrepidity; and adulteries, to show our gallantry: both of them are frequent in our most taking plays, with this difference only, that the first are done in the sight of the audience, and the other wrought up to such a height upon the stage, that they are almost put in execution before the actors can get behind the scenes.

I would not have it thought, that there is just ground for those consequences which our enemies draw against us from these practices; but methinks one would be sorry for any manner of occasion for such misrepresentations of us. The virtues of ten