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But why their fev'ral merits need I tell? Why on each honour'd fage's praises dwell? WILMOT how well his place, or FOSTER fills? Or fhrew'd sense beaming from the eye of WILLS?

Such, while thou fee'ft the public care engage, Their fame increasing with increasing age, Rais'd by true genius, bred in Phœbus' school, Whose warmth of foul found judgment knew to cool; - With fuch illuftrious proofs before your eyes, Think not, my friend, youv'e too much wit to rife: Think of the bench, the coif, long robe, and fee, And leave the Press to ********* *** ** **

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The First Book of the HENRIADE.

Tranflated from the French of M. De VOLTAIRE.

HY chieftain, France, of try'd illuftrious worth,

TH

By right of conqueft king, by right of birth, I fing. Who, tutor'd in misfortune's school, There learnt the nobleft science, how to Rule; Bad Faction's furious difcord ceafe to rave, Valiant to conquer, merciful to fave ;

Baffled the daring League's rebellious schemes, MAYENNE'S proud hopes, and Spain's ambitious dreams: With civil prudence bleft, with martial fire,

A nation's conqueror, and a nation's fire.

Truth, heavenly maid, from th' Empyræan height Defcend, and with thy ftrong and pureft light My verfe illume! and O, let mortals hear

Thy facred word, and awfully revere !

Be

Be thou my guide! thy fage experience brings
Unerring maxims to the ear of kings.

'Tis thine, bleft maid, and only thine, to show
What most befits the regal pow'r to know.
Purge thou the film from off a nation's eyes,
And fhew what ills from civil difcord rife!
Nor spare with decent boldness to disclose
The prince's errors, and the people's woes :
And O! if fable e'er, in times of yore,
Mix'd her soft accents with thy fterner lore,
If e'er her hand adorn'd thy tow'ring head,
And o'er thy front her milder graces spread;
If e'er her shades, which lovingly unite,
Bad thy fair form fpring ftronger into light,
With me, permit her all thy fteps to trace,
Not to conceal thy beauties, but to grace!

Still VALOIS reign'd, and funk in pleasure's bow'r, O'er a mad state held loose the reigns of pow'r : The trampled Law had loft its ancient force, And Right confounded, miss'd her even course.

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'Twas thus when VALOIS France's fceptre bore, Scepter'd indeed, but now a king no more; Not glory's minion now, the voice of fame Swell'd the loud trumpet to the hero's name; His laurels wither'd, and all blafted now, Which conqueft hung upon his infant brow; Whose progress Europe mark'd with confcious fear, Whose lofs provok'd his country's common tear, When, the long train of all his virtues known, The North admiring call'd him to the throne. In fecond rank, the light which strikes the eyes, Rais'd to the first, grows dim, and feebly dies. From war's ftern foldier, active, firm, and brave, He funk a monarch, pleafure's abject flave. Lull'd with soft eafe, forgetful all of state, His weakness totter'd with a kingdom's weight; While loft in floth, and dead to glorious fame, The fons of riot govern'd in his name. QUELUS, St. MAIGRIN, death-cemented pair, JOYEUSE the gay, and D'ESPERNON the fair, The careless king in pleasure plung'd with these, In luft intemperate, and lethargic ease.

Mean

Mean time, the GUISES, fortunate and brave, Catch'd the fair moment which his weakness gave. Then rose the fatal League in evil hour,

That dreadful rival of his waning pow'r.

The people blind, their facred Monarch brav'd,
Led by those Tyrants, who their rights enflav'd.
His friends forfook him, helpless and alone,
His fervants chas'd him from his royal throne;
Revolted Paris, deaf to kingly awe,
Within her gates the crouding stranger faw.
Through all the city burft rebellion's flame;
And all was loft, when virtuous BOURBON came;
Came, full of warlike ardour, to restore
That light his prince, deluded, had no more.
His active presence breath'd an instant flame;
;
No longer now the fluggish fons of shame,
Onward they prefs, where glory calls, to arms,
And fpring to War from Pleasure's filken charms:
To Paris gates both kings advance amain,
Rome felt th' alarm, and trembled haughty Spain:
While Europe, watching where the tempeft falls,
With anxious eyes beheld th' unhappy walls.

Within

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