When Hope, a nymph of heav'nly race,
Address'd in smiles her cheerful face,
Soft interpos'd with friendly air,
To save me from the arms of Care.

"And what, unhappy! tempts thee so?" She cried," and whither wouldst thou go? 'Tis but á mark of weakness shown, To fly from Life to ills unknown!

"Go ask the wretch in torture this, Why courts he life, if not a bliss? Nor quits the partner Nature gave, For the cold horrours of the grave."

Short I reply'd-" False nymph, forbear
With syren tales to sooth my ear!
Forbear thy arts too often try'd,
Nor longer thou shalt be my guide.

"Ten tedious years!- -a space too long!
Still hast thou led, and led me wrong!
At least thy vain attendance cease,
And leave me here to die in peace."

To which she answer'd with a sigh"Thou hast thy wish! if I comply, Death soon will cease thee left alone, For Life is lost, when Hope is gone."

CUPID'S REVENGE. DESERTED from the power of Love,

And bound by Hymen's pleasing chain, Myrtillo careless trod the grove,

Or wander'd o'er the flow'ry plain.

Indifferent ev'ry nymph he saw,

Aminta sole his heart possess'd: And with mild rule, and rightful law, Reign'd gentle sov'reign of his breast!

But Cupid sure revenge had sworn,

And artful laid the treach'rous snare, As, heedless, one inviting morn, The shepherd breath'd the wholesome air.

The Zephyrs fann'd the skies serene,

While Phoebus shed his placid ray: When bright Camilla cross'd the plain, And met Myrtillo's devious way.

Sudden from her enchanting eyes

The traitor sent the destin'd dart; "And there, rebellious youth," he cries, "Deliver up your stubborn heart."

Surpris'd he saw the arrow vain,

From the calm shepherd's breast rebound: His baffled project gave him pain, Myrtillo had no heart to wound.

His angry looks his rage disclose, Thrice he invok'd his mother's aid! Camilla spoke: "Yes, there it goes:

We'll try the armour of your head."

Victorious now, insulting Love

Cried, pleas'd the shepherd's wound to find, "My common darts the HEART may prove, My noblest arrows pierce the MIND

TRANSLATION

OF

527

VOLTAIRE'S LETTER TO THE KING OF PRUSSIA. 1740.

KIND prince! whom the admiring world must own
By Truth and Nature form'd to grace a throne:
Whose dawn of empire, like the solar ray,
Cheers half the North with hopes of lasting day:
Receive the bomage which the Muses send,
Their fav'rite thou! their guardian! and their friend!
Are you enthron'd, and does your goodness deign
To own your poet, and regard his strain?

O blissful moment! dear auspicious grace!
Does Frederic's smiles my wand'ring steps embrace?
Does his great soul, possess'd of wisdom's balm,
(Ever benevolent, and ever calm!)

Leave all the dignity of state behind,
To meet the humble lover of mankind?
And can your hand the royal gift impart,
To style me friend of your distinguish'd heart?
Fame says of old, that Phoebus, heavenly bright,
O'er the wide world who spreads the living light,
So Jove ordain'd-his splendid car resign'd,
To live below, and humanize mankind:
No more his brows their wonted rays reveal'd,
A shepherd's form the exil'd god conceal'd:
In Phrygian wilds, to an unletter'd race,
He sung with such divinely pleasing grace,
The savage nations in their soften'd hearts,
Receiv'd the love of virtue, and of arts!
The rudest breasts the strong persuasion felt,
Were taught to think, to reason, and to melt!
Themselves to know, the social tie to own,
And learn they were not made to live alone!
Then ev'ry useful science sprung to birth,
And peaceful labour blest the smiling Earth:
Men now united lost their ancient rage,
Nature rejoic'd, and blest her golden age:
An age by Heav'n design'd for man no more,
Unless a Frederic shall that age restore.

It chanc'd as through the woods Apollo stray'd,
Ere gath'ring numbers peopled half the shade;
As near the cooling stream he pass'd the day,
And wak'd the golden lyre to wisdom's lay:
Attentive to the sound, a stranger swain
His reed attun'd to imitate the strain:
The god, well-pleas'd, the rustic genius spy'd,
Approv'd his aim, and deign'd to be his guide!
Aided his trembling hands to touch the string,
Whisper'd the words, and show'd him how to sing!
The swain improving blest the care bestow'd,
Nor in the master yet perceiv'd the god.
Nor knew th' immortal flame his bosom fir'd,
But like a shepherd lov'd him, and admir'd.
In me, great prince, the image stands renew'd,
I feel myself with kindred warmth endu'd;
As to thy praise I tune the conscious lyre,
I ask whence draws my breast the noble fire?
Tell what inspires me, happy people, tell!
Beneath my Fred'ric's orient sway who dwell:

From rapid Rhine to silver-streaming Meine,
The peaceful subjects of his placid reign?
Or ye on Prussia's amber-yielding shore,
Who bless his name, and hail his guardian pow'r!
Yes-let consenting lands his virtues raise,
And Fame with all his tongues repeat his praise !
Whose sceptre shall Astræa's rule restore,
And bid dejected Merit sigh no more.

As once directed by the voice of Fame
To Wisdom's king the southern princess came;
At Frederic's call-see, ravish'd to obey,
The sons of Learning take their cheerful way;
To hear that sense which still attention draws,
And bless that goodness which directs his laws.
Close by his throne Philosophy shall smile,
To view her prince approve her children's toil!
While Science joys to see his kind regards
Inspire the Muse, his bounty still rewards;
Not distant far calm Charity shall stand,
Stretching to Piety her social hand;
Justice shall banish arbitrary Might,

And Commerce cheerful Plenty shall invite :
But Goodness chief-in form angelic drest,
(Such as she lives in Fred'ric's royal breast)
Beneath her wings shall bid the worthy find
A shelter from the storms that vex mankind:
The friend of truth, by fraud or malice hurl'd
Through all the mazes of a faithless world,
Whom envy persecutes and bigots hate,
Shall here enjoy an undisturb'd retreat;
With him who scorns the empty pride of blood,
But shares his grandeur with the wise and good.
Bewitching gold, which circling through a state,
Derives its value, and deserves its weight!
But once obstructed, like the streams of life,
Breeds war, and want, and discontent, and strife:
From Fred'ric's hand new splendour shall regain,
To bid his people wish his lengthen`d reign.
No more shall neighb'ring states from Prussia's arms
Or dangers apprehend, or dread alarms:
Far less shall foreign leagues his empire move,
Fix'd on a firm united people's love:
Already Europe's kings their courtship bend,
To him who makes no foe, nor quits a friend;
What though his prudence guards the chance of war,
His mildness eyes the mischief from afar:
What though his arms might Cæsar's laurels find,
The peaceful olive suits his greater mind:
Yet safe in all events the storm he views,
In peace or war,-the darling of the Muse!
In either state, alike insur'd success,
Since all his aim is to defend and bless.

Yet while impending clouds their darkness spread,
He arms for war-but arms without a dread:
No giant-forms 2 compose a vain parade,
No glitt'ring figures of the warrior-trade:
Valour he courts, without the pomp of art,
And rises on the service of the heart:
He boasts it all his glory to be just,
(A pride beyond the title of august!)
Which Time secures, the most impartial friend,
And guards his name till Nature feels her end.
So when beneath the curs'd Cæsarean race
Rome felt the horrours of her first disgrace:

Alluding to the new order instituted by his Prussian majesty, the badge of which is a gold medal, with this inscription-FOR MERIT.

2 Alluding to the king's allowing liberty to the tall soldiers his father had forced into his service.

Great Trajan rose with every virtue blest,
To give the wearied world the sweets of rest:
No blood, no conquest mark'd his spotless reign,
'Twas goodness form'd th' inviolable chain :
E'en India's kings receiv'd the willing yoke,
For goodness is a band no savage broke.

Not Salem's walls defil'd with wilful blood
A crime, her victor's clemency withstood:
Not all her honours levell'd with the dust,
Styl'd Titus good, or merciful, or just:
Love knit the charm on which his greatness rose,
A charm not worlds united can oppose!
Behold the glorious pattern marks your rise!
Nor quits the steps by which he gain'd the skies:
Try to surpass !-(but Heav'n his fate refuse!)
He wept a day-which you will never lose.

INSCRIBED TO JAMES DOUGLAS, M. D. F. R. 9.

MACENAS, Sprung of royal blood,
My first defence, my dearest good!
What various cares our life employ !
How diffrent are our tastes for joy!
The rapid car that gains the prize,
Whirls the vain racer to the skies.
The statesman who, by artful ways,
Aspires to pow'r from vulgar praise:
The sordid wretch, whose greedy store
Amasses corn to cheat the poor:
The farmer, whose industrious hand
Tills his paternal spot of land:
All these would Asia's wealth disdain,
To quit their state, or tempt the main.
The merchant, with affrighted eyes,
Who sees the gath'ring tempest rise,
Sighs to regain his native ease,

And swears no more to trust the seas.
Yet, when escap'd he finds the shore,
So much he dreads the name of poor,
His shatter'd bark he fond repairs,
And o'er the faithless ocean steers.
Reclin'd beneath the spreading shade,
Near some clear fountain's bubbling head,
Elate with wine, with garlands gay,
The friend of Bacchus wastes the day.
Others, impatient for the fight,
In camps and martial scenes delight.
Their breasts the sprightly trumpet warms,
That fills the mother with alarms.
To freeze beneath the midnight air,
The huntsman leaves the sighing fair,
Pleas'd if his hounds the deer pursue,
Or hold th' entangled boar in view.
'Tis thus that happiness is sought
A thousand ways—and never caught.
For you, my lord', the ivy crown
(The critic's prize, and just renown)
Does round your honour'd temples twine,
And ranks you with the gods divine!
While I beneath the gelid grove,
Whose haunt the nymphs and satyrs love,

I follow the late bishop of Chichester's (Dr. Hare) judicious emendation of reading te doctarum, &c. for me.

THRICE happy toy! profusely blest
When seated in thy balmy nest!

O wouldst thou change thy place with me,
How sweetly ravish'd should I be!
So plac'd, perhaps might find the art
To soften her unyielding heart;
To pity all my tedious pain,
And grant me love for love again.

But, oh! I rave-the promis'd bliss
Is all the fond deceit of wish :
Yet, happy toy-while thus I mourn,
Hope not thyself shall e'er return:
No more shalt thou insulting there
A favourite rest, while I despair!
My cherish'd captive shalt thou be,
Only on this condition free:

That when, departing from her breast,
At night thou leav'st thy balmy nest,
To me thy station thou resign,
And grant the joys for which I pine.

ON MISS CARTER'S

BEING DRAWN IN THE HABIT OF MINERVA,

WITH PLATO IN HER HAND.

SAY, Fayram, say, whose is th' enliv'ning face?
What British charmer shines with Attic grace?
Whence that calm air? that philosophic smile?
And is a Pallas left to bless our isle?

Have we a nymph, who, midst the bloom of youth,
Can think with Plato? and can relish truth?
One who can leave her sex's joys behind,
To taste the nobler pleasures of the mind?

Well, Carter, suits thy mien this apt disguise,
This mystic form to please our ravish'd eyes:
Well chose thy friend this emblematic way,
To the beholders strongly to convey
Th' instructive moral, and important thought,
Thy works have publish'd, and thy life has taught,
That all the trophies vanity can raise

Are mean, compar'd to heav'nly Wisdom's praise!
Not that vain shade, which oft usurps the name,
The pedant's mistress, and the schoolman's claim,
But sacred Science! that diviner art,
Which while it guides the judgment, mends the heart,
Such as your own immortal Plato fir'd,
When Athens listen'd, and the world admir'd,
Such as directed Newton's eagle view,

To pierce the clouds, and look all Nature through!
And such as now, in milder glories drest,
Reanimates thy fair unblemish'd breast;
VOL XIV.

ΤΟ

THE DISCONSOLATE HILARIA,

ON THE MUCH LAMENTED DEATH OF HER DEAR SISTER CLARISSA.

WHILE yet thy bosom feels the fatal blow,

And hides indulgent its expressless woe,

Fair mourner! can'st thou give the Muse to share
A grief, too exquisite for thee to bear?

Oft has thy smile approving blest her strain,
Now let her, faithful, suffer in thy pain:
Touch'd with thy loss in all thy sorrow join,
Count sigh for sigh, and mingle tears with thine:
All, all is due-that we can fondly pay,

To the dear friend, whom Fate has snatch'd away!
Come, Muses! your Urania calls you, come,
And grace with cypress-wreaths Clarissa's tomb.

Need I to thee, her soul's best partner, tell
That excellence which none could know so well!
Need I to thee recall each living grace,
Her blameless virtues, or her heavenly face!
Her soul, in spotless innocence enshrin'd,
Her form-the lovely temple of her mind!
Where cheerfulness and truth for ever smil'd,
Whence beam'd fair piety, and goodness mild:
Her heart, that knew nor vanity, nor pride,
And made her half an angel, ere she died!

Come, weeping sisters, all around me come,
And bathe with crystal tears Clarissa's tomb.

As when with rising grace the rose entwines
Its blushing head, and through the foliage shines,
With native sweets embalms the ambient day,
And reigns the quo of flow'rs, the queen of May!
In beauty's fragrance so Clarissa shone,
And ev'ry chaste attraction was her own!
All that could win the judgment, or excite
Long admiration, or refin'd delight:
Not all combin'd the charming maid could save,
Death bore his lovely victim to the grave!

Come, ye sad Muses! all around me come,
And strew with sweets Clarissa's sacred tomb.

Alas, Hilaria!-what is life's short date

But the brief passage to our endless state?
Of which Heav'n wisely hides the term assign'd,
In pity to our feebleness of mind!
To ease our journey, and allure us on,
Till the long tedious pilgrimage is done!
But when it lights below a pure desire,
Such as did late thy sister-bosom fire:
Too soon th' immortal flame delights to rise,
And quits the Earth, to grace its kindred skies!
Come, friendly sisters, all around me come,
And with this verse adorn Clarissa's tomb.

M m

Oh, dare I think?—what yet I dread to hear!
The father's, mother's, or the sister's fear!
When first the dire contagion seiz'd her heart,
And baffled all the weak reliefs of art:
I know!-I feel!-I see th' alarming scene,
Where none but thy Clarissa was serene!
She, calm, the close of youth and life survey'd,
She, calm, the early debt of Nature paid;
Mildness, eternal mildness, was her pride,
And gently as she liv'd, in peace she died!

Come, ye Aonian maids! around me come,
And with these honours grace her virgin tomb.

Bear, kind Hilaria !-to thy parent's view
This faithful tribute,-now too justly due!
Oh tell thy father, the long-silent page
Bemoans his loss, and trembles for his age!
For half thy mother's joy is torn away,
And life now verges to its last decay:
'Tis thine, reserv'd by Heav'n, the blest relief
To soothe each motion of awakening grief:
Soften thy dear dejected parent's woe,
And live their smiling comfortress below.

Come, virgins, to your lov'd Hilaria, come,
And raise the mourner from her sister's tomb.

When, mournful Muse! O when shall cease thy tear,
So oft demanded for a line so dear?
First drew thy grief a slaughter'd infant's' fate:
Next Cairness' 2 virtue claim'd thy fond regret :
Now fair Clarissa's loss the woe renews,
As wakes the setting Sun the ev'ning dews!
Yet with superior worth shall virtue glow,
Shall brighten through the deepest gloom of woe!
Victorious from the short-liv'd struggle rise,
And gain, by suffering, its immortal prize!

Come, spotless maids, to my assistance come,
And consecrate the chaste Clarissa's tomb.

Oft must I think-how innocently gay,
United have we pass'd the hours away
In converse, by the sweets of truth endear'd,
By mirth enliv'ned, and by friendship cheer'd:
If cross, sometimes, and fashionably rude,
Folly, or malice, ventur'd to intrude:

Like the thin clouds when scatter'd by the wind,
They left no shadows of themselves behind:
Their absence but restor'd the face of light,
And serv'd to heighten the renew'd delight.
Come, virgins, all around Urania come,
And with this verse inscribe Clarissa's tomb.

Yet these reflections, once so justly dear,
Now grow for recollection too severe.
For see, Emilia, once your mutual friend,
To the low earth her weeping aspect bend !
When reach'd her ear thy much-lov'd sister's death,
Her eyes grew sightless, and she lost her breath!
"Dead! can it be?-the dear Clarissa dead?"
(Were the first words she faintly, faintly said.)
How short, alas! is youth's or beauty's pride?
How vain is life?-when such perfection died!
Come, sisters! all around me, sisters, come,
And consecrate Clarissa's lasting tomb.

A lively young boy, about eight years old, unhappily shot by his cousin about the same age, in play together.

The young lady's grandmother.

And thou, the dear associate of her mind,
Nearer by virtue-than by nature join'd:
Accept the verse;-the Muse by Heav'n inspir'd,
From thy first dawn beheld thee, and admir'd!
Now show, Hilaria, show that mental day,
Of which, prophetic, I remark'd the ray:
When the pleas'd aspect, and engaging mien,
Show'd undiscover'd treasures lodg'd within:
Show'd you were born the world's esteem to bind,
And raise your trophies o'er the captive mind!
Come, ye Aonian mourners! round me come,
Hilaria's praise shall grace Clarissa's tomb.

Proceed, fond Muse, awake the nobler string!
'Tis thine th' ascension of the blest to sing;
Go, point to the distress'd Hilaria's sight,
Her sister beaming from the realms of light!
To bring the fond afflicted mourner ease,
Her heart to comfort, and her eye to raise;
To bid her now employ each filial art,
To soothe the anguish of her parents' smart;
By fond degrees the gloom of grief efface,
And fill her own Clarissa's widow'd place!

Come, smiling sisters, to assist me come,
And raise the mourner from Clarissa's tomb.

'Tis done! Hilaria, dry those pearly eyes!
Thy smiling sister hails thee from the skies:
Where now enthron'd the spotless seraph sings
Celestial notes, and strikes the silver strings!
Feels her calm breast with conscious pleasure move.
And shares the raptures of the blest above!
Sees kindred saints her known resemblance trace,
And adds herself an angel to the race:
Yet thinks, perhaps, not all her joys complete,
Till you shall join her in that blissful seat:
Meanwhile, she lives in thy resemblant mind,
Nor is she left-while you are left behind!

Come, Muses! to the sad Hilaria come,
And say this verse adorns Clarissa's tomb.

PALE Want! thou goddess of consumptive hue,
If thou delight to haunt me still in view;
If still thy presence must my steps attend,
At least continue, as thou art, my friend.
When wide example bids me be unjust,
False to my word-or faithless to my trust;
Bid me the baneful errour, counsell'd, see,
And shun the world, to find repose with thee!
When Vice to Wealth would turn my partial eye,
Or Int'rest shut my car to Sorrow's cry:
Or leading Custom would my reason bend,
My foe to flatter, or desert my friend;
Present, kind Poverty, thy temper'd shield,
And bear me off, unvanquish'd, from the field.
If giddy Fortune should return again,
With all her idle, restless, wanton train;
Her magic glass should false Ambition hold,
Or Av'rice bid me pat my trust in gold,
To my relief, thou virtuous goddess, haste,
And with thee bring thy smiling daughters chaste,
Health, Liberty, and Wisdom-sisters bright!
Whose charms can make the worst condition light;
Beneath the hardest fate the mind can cheer,
Can heal affliction, and disarm despair;
In chains-in torments, pleasure can bequeath,
And dress in smiles the tyrant brows of Death.

A STEADY Virtue form'd for self-command,
A tender eye, and a diffusive hand;
A temper calm as runs th' untroubled flood,
A taste, that only joy'd in doing good!
A soul to which each social tie was known,
A thought that saw all merit but thy own!
A truth that never was defil'd by art,
A hermit's temp'rance, with a monarch's heart:
When thus thy goodness shed its noontide ray,
Why thus has Heav'n eclips'd the gentle day?
Forbid Benevolence itself to shine,

And robb'd the world of eharity like thine?

Yet dim with grief the Muse beholds thee rise,
Smile ev'n in death, and plume thee for the skies.
Where prayer long since had form'd thy blest abode,
To live with angels and adore thy God!
In this fair hope thy blameless life was past,
And now the glorious prize is thine at last:
This gave thee pomp and pleasure to forego,
For the superior joy-to soften woe,

To ease th' oppress'd-to bless the honest toil,
And bid the unbefriended orphan smile:
A joy to wealth or grandeur seldom known;
A joy which Heav'n allotted as thy own.

This gave thee, calm, life's vanities to view,
Each sense to rule, each passion to subdue:
For Nature's wants just simply to provide,
To ease the wants of numberless beside;
To practice more than Epictetus taught,
Or Cato acted, or Confucius thought:
Which only christian faith the mind can teach,
And christian piety alone can reach.

Forbear, fond Muse, the heav'nly sisters come,
See how, associate, they surround his tomb!
Mark, Charity with wild dejection mourn,
Her flame suppress'd beneath his spotless urn!
There Piety, with look exalted, eyes

His radiant flight, and waits him to the skies!
While Hope, rejoic'd, his bright example views,
And bids mankind th' instructive lines peruse:
A joy which painted grandeur never found,
To steal through life-and bless a world around.

ON FRIENDSHIP.
Nomen inane, vale.

FRIENDSHIP adieu! thou dear deceitful good,
So much profess'd, so little understood.
How often to thy sacred injur'd name,
A thousand vain pretenders lay their claim!
Like flies, attend the summer of our day,
And in the sunbeams of our fortunes play;
Soon we behold the treach'rous insects gone,
But when life's wintry-evening shades come on,
And find ourselves at once deserted and undone.