ESSAY ON THE MORAL EFFECTS OF FICTION. 479 



novel of high genius and pure morals. I do not meddle with the im- 

 portant questions of prudence in the education of a female ; what novels 

 she ought to read, and when. As to ninety-nine of every hundred 

 novels, I know from experience that it is a sad waste of time " the 

 stuff of which life is made." 



It should be observed, that, for the purpose of this argument, history 

 and fiction are on a footing ; both present distress not occurring in our 

 own experience. The effect does not at all depend on the particular or 

 historical truth, but on that more general or philosophical truth of which 

 Aristotle speaks, and which consists in a conformity to human nature. 

 The effect of the death of Clarissa, or of Mary Stuart, on the heart, by 

 no means depends on the fact that the one really died, but on the viva- 

 city of the exhibition by the two great painters, Hume and Richardson. 

 All the interest of the story, and all the charm of the style, produce sub- 

 ordinate sentiments, which, in pathetic narrative, flow into the main 

 stream of pity, sweeten its composition, increase its pleasurable ingre- 

 dients, and strengthen the disposition towards it. As benevolence, 

 which is the most delightful of all human feelings, is a part of pity, the 

 latter is never wholly painful ; and the pain seldom predominates for a 

 long time. The expressions of poetry respecting " the luxury of woe," 

 &c. would be inadmissible in poetical composition, if they were not 

 sanctioned by the general feeling. 



ANACREONTIC BALLAD, 

 J3y ffitv* C. 23. OTifemt. 



TRIM the taper ! fill the bowl ! 



Scarce our revel hath begun ; 

 Stir not hence, each jovial soul 



Stir not, till the rising sun 

 Comes your ling'ring steps to chide, 



With its paly-gleaming ray ; 

 When the bowl's last tears are dried, 



Up ! to daylight's cares away ! 

 Trim the taper fill the bowl 



Scarce our revel hath begun ; 

 Stir not hence, each jovial soul, 



Mirth like ours should greet the sun ! 

 Night is here with roses crowned, 



Like a young and blushing bride ; 

 And each sterner thought is drowned 



In the goblet's sparkling tide ! 

 Rubies light the wine-cup's stream 



Diamonds flash from Beauty's eyes ; 

 Where are gems like these, that gleam 

 'Neath chill morning's sober skies ? 

 Trim the taper fill the bowl 



Scarce our revel hath begun ; 

 Stir not hence, each jovial soul 



Mirth like ours should greet the sun ! 



