My tortur'd spirit's baffled aim
A rebel to its Queen became ;
Euphrosyne's bewitching power
Smil'd on the dissipated hour.
Then cruel Scorn, in Virtue's name,
Wing'd at my life the dart of shame;
The Myrtle and the Roses fled,
Bare was the Pilgrim's wither'd head.
But though to the Autumnal day
The Sun refus'd his glowing ray,
An Evening Star the Muse appear'd,
My desolated spirits cheer'd,
And guides the vessel's batter'd sail
To port-in her Elysian Vale.
ALONE-exploring the deserted plain
With measur'd feet and slow, the devious course
Adventures on-my heart with desp❜rate force
Abjures all traces which the Earth profane.
Expedient sad! that courting sullen Pain,
Averts intruding comments on the source
Of agonies too proud for intercourse
Of social Friendship, or of Pleasure's train;
Yet can I wake to Hope-rememb'ring still,
That water, though in drops, with frequent stroke,
Could stone or marble into hollows pelt;
Nor beams the radiant eye that cannot spill
The gen'rous dew, when sighs and pray'rs invoke, Nor Pride can freeze that Love despairs to melt.
* See several other Sonnets from Petrarch, pp. 3-8.
IMITATIONS FROM THE FRENCH.
THE Husband was a lump of stone,
The Wife had thoughts to mischief prone;
The Lover had been chosen well,
And flesh was panting to rebel.
I own it was an humble taste,
Her choice was on the Gardener plac'd ;
But rosy cheek and sparkling eye
The want of rank and wealth supply.
Before the early morning's ray
Was yet supplanted by the day,
She call'd her sluggard from the bed,
And slyly to the garden led.
Hortensius had receiv'd his cue,
And grateful to the service flew ;
Presented Myrtle, and the Rose,
Or Fruit with skilful caution chose;
By seeming accident at last,
Beneath a Pear-tree as they pass'd,
She tapt her Husband's cheek, and said,
"A little mischief's in my head;
That luscious fruit, I wish it here."-
"Why, John shall gather it, my dear."
Assenting John, with nimble jerk,
Was up, and soon began his work;
But, with a counterfeit surprize,
And as if doubtful of his eyes,
Exclaim'd, "Can sight itself deceive,
Or have my senses taken leave?
Your servants bribe to indecorum,
By such an act as this before 'em!"
Why, sure, the fool has lost his head," The laughing pair together said; Alighting, John at once confess'd, That Madam then was quite at rest. But, sure as both are quiet now, I saw them both from yonder bough.
The Husband then, with playful wit,
Said, he would in the Pear-tree sit;
And, if in truth it had the whim,
'Twould make as great a fool of him.
No sooner was he up, than John-
But here away-the Nine are gone.
At last, the reconciling Tree
Made Husband, Wife, and John agree;
The axe its vile enchantment broke,
And Love repaid the nuptial yoke.
THE Church in some has made a rout
I care not who is in or out;
My board with equal joy could feast
The Indian, Turk, or Christian Priest.
By me no Faith is understood,
But that alone of doing good.
I'd have the subject live in awe
Of that Impartial Judge, the Law;
I'd have him love his King, not fear him,
Not idolize him, but revere him.
This for the World is quite enough;
The rest-which none but zealots puff,
for Eternity-
But of no consequence-to me.
BETWEEN THE KING OF PRUSSIA AND VOLTAIRE.
Ir parts attract with gay surprize
A Nation's fascinated eyes;
"Tis here the vision is refin'd,
And sober taste corrects the mind;
Plucks the victorious Eagle's wing,
And strips a Robber in a King ;
Detects the Meteor's wanton glare,
And makes a Fool of bright Voltaire.
ON HIS OVERTURN IN THE WAY TO BERLIN.
ABRUPT and slippery was the road,
The mud and snow their gifts bestow'd!
The Devil, who in mischief deals,
Has broke the axle of my wheels;
The wheel that Fortune loves to ride,
I us'd with pertness to deride;
But I have alter'd my opinion,
And wish to be that Lady's minion.
To her, the object of my choice,
I thus address my feeble voice:
"Oh, you that are all things above,
Except the Hero that I love;
You that shall never claim a gem,
Or of his heart, or diadem;
Let me but find the way to him,
The rest I leave to Fortune's whim."
(MANUFACTURED AT BERLIN,)
BY THE KING OF PRUSSIA TO VOLTAIRE.
LET other Kings of modern race With Stars and Wands their Courtiers grace;
The King of Prussia sends a gift,
That me above the world can lift;
'Tis IMMORTALITY I gain,
For, it is Earth from his domain.
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