And turn from ill a frail and feeble heart; Lead through the paths thy virtue trod before, Till bliss shall join nor death can part us more. That awful form, which, so the heavens decree, Must still be loved and still deplor'd by me In nightly visions seldom fails to rise, Or rous'd by fancy, meets my waking eyes. If business calls, or crowded courts invite; Th' unblemish'd statesman seems to strike my sight; If in the stage I seek to soothe my care I meet his soul which breathes in Cato there; If pensive to the rural shades I rove, His shape o'ertakes me in the lonely grove; 'Twas there of just and good he reason'd strong, Clear'd some great truth, or rais'd some serious song: There patient show'd us the wise course to steer, A candid censor, and a friend severe; There taught us how to live; and (oh! too high The price for knowledge) taught us how to die. Sir RICHARD STEELE. _Dedicatory Epistle to_ WILLIAM CONGREVE. [This Dedication is prefixed to the Second Edition of ADDISON's _Drummer_, 1722.] To Mr. CONGREVE: occasioned by Mr. TICKELL's _Preface_ to the four volumes of Mr. ADDISON's _Works_. Sir, This is the second time that I have, without your leave, taken the liberty to make a public address to you. However uneasy you may be, for your own sake, in receiving compliments of this nature, I depend upon your known humanity for pardon; when I acknowledge that you have this present trouble, for mine. When I take myself to be ill treated with regard to my behaviour to the merit of other men; my conduct towards you is an argument of my candour that way, as well as that your name and authority will be my protection in it. You will give me leave therefore, in a matter that concerns us in the Poetical World, to make you my judge whether I am not injured in the highest manner! for with men of your taste and delicacy, it is a high crime and misdemeanour to be guilty of anything that is disingenuous. But I will go into my matter. Upon my return from Scotland, I visited Mr. TONSON's shop, and thanked him for his care in sending to my house, the Volumes of my dear and honoured friend Mr. ADDISON; which are, at last, published by his Secretary, Mr. TICKELL: but took occasion to observe, that I had not seen the Work before it came out; which he did not think fit to excuse any otherwise than by a recrimination, that I had put into his hands, at a high price, a Comedy called _The Drummer_; which, by my zeal for it, he took to be written by Mr. ADDISON, and of which, after his [_ADDISON's_] death, he said, I directly acknowleged he was the author. To urge this hardship still more home, he produced a receipt under my hand, in these words-- _March 12, 1715 [-16]_.