What cruel anfwer have I heard!

And yet, by heav'n, I love thee ftill:

Can aught be cruel from thy lip?

Yet fay, how fell that bitter word

From lips which streams of sweetness fill, Which nought but drops of honey fip?

Go boldly forth, my fimple lay,

Whofe accents flow with artless ease

Like orient pearls at random ftrung;

Thy notes are sweet, the damfels say,

But O! far fweeter, if they please

The nymph for whom these notes are fung.

Bedem gufti, va khurfendam,

Afac alla, neku gufti,

Jawabi telkhi mizeibed

Lebi lali fheker khara.

Gazel gufti vedurr fufti,

Bea vakhosh bukhan Hafiz,

Ke ber nazmi to affhaned

Felek ikdi furiara.

Warm'd by the funny beams,

Through whose transparent crystal Laura play'd;

Ye boughs, that deck the grove,

Where Spring her chaplets wove,

While Laura lay beneath the quiv'ring shade;

* M. de Voltaire has given us a beautiful paraphrase of this firft stanza, though it is certain that he had never read the ode in the original, or at most only the three

Sweet herbs, and blooming flow'rs,

That crown yon vernal bow'rs

For ever fatal, yet for ever dear:

And ye, that heard my fighs

When first she charm'd my eyes,

Soft-breathing gales, my dying accents hear.

Erba, e fior', che la gonna

Leggiadra ricoverfe

Coll' angelico feno;

Aer facro fereno

Ov' Amor co' begli occhi il cor m' aperse;

Date udienza infieme

Alle dolento mie parole eftreme.

three first lines of it; for he afferts that the Italian fong is irregular and without rhymes, whereas the ftanzas are perfectly regular, and the rhymes very exact. His defign was to give Madame du Châtelet, for whom he wrote his history, an idea of Petrarch's style; but if she had only read his imitation, fhe could have but an imperfect notion of the Italian, which the reader will eafily perceive by comparing them.

If heav'n has fix'd my doom,

That Love muft quite confume

My bursting heart, and close my eyes in death;

Ah! grant this flight request,

That here my urn may reft

When to its manfion flies my vital breath.

This pleafing hope will smooth

My anxious mind, and footh

In these calm shades, and this enchanting bow'r.

S'egli e pur mio destino,

E'l cielo in cio s'adopra,

Ch' amor quefti occhi lagrimando chiuda,

Qualche grazia il mefchino

Corpo fra voi ricopra ;

E torni l'alma al proprio albergo ignuda.

La morte fia men cruda,

Se quefta fpeme porto

A quel dubbiofo paffo;
Che lo fpirito laffo

Non poria mai in piu ripofato porto
Ne'n piu tranquilla foffa

Fuggir la carne travagliata, e l' offa.

Haply