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AN EPISTLE

FROM THE KING O F PRUSSIA

TO MONSIEUR VOLTAIRE, 1757.

TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH.

BY JOHN GILBERT COOPER, ESQ. *

VOLTAIRE, believe me, were I now
In private life's calm ftation plac'd,
Let heav'n for nature's wants allow,

With cold indiff'rence would I view

Departing Fortune's winged hafte,

And laugh at her caprice like you.
Th' infipid farce of tedious ftate,
Imperial duty's real weight,
The faithlefs courtier's fupple bow,
The fickle multitude's carefs,
And the great Vulgar's Littleness,
By long experience well I know :
And, tho' a Prince and Poet born,
Vain blandishments of glory scorn.

For when the ruthless fhears of Fate

Have cut my life's precarious thread,

And rank'd me with th' unconscious dead,
What wil't avail that I was great,

Born 1722; dyed 1769.

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Or that th' uncertain tongue of Fame
In Mem❜rys temple chaunts my name?
One blissful moment whilst we live

Weighs more than ages of renown;

What then do Potentates receive
Of good, peculiarly their own?
Sweet Eafe and anaffected Joy,

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Domestic Peace, and sportive Pleasure,
The regal throne and palace fly,

And, born for liberty, prefer

Soft filent scenes of lovely leifure,

To, what we Monarchs buy fo dear,

The thorny pomp of fcepter'd care.
My pain or blifs fhall ne'er depend
On fickle Fortune's cafual fight,
For, whether she's my foe or friend,
In calm repofe I'll pass the night;
And ne'er by watchful homage own
I court her fmile, or fear her frown.
But from our flations we derive

Unerring precepts how to live,

And certain deeds each rank calls forth,

By which is measur'd human worth.

Voltaire, within his private cell,
In realms where ancient honesty

Is patrimonial property,

And facred Freedom loves to dwell,
May give up all his peaceful mind,
Guided by Plato's deathlefs page,

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In filent folitude refign'd

To the mild virtues of a Sage;

But I, 'gainst whom wild whirlwinds wage
Fierce war with wreck-denouncing wing,
Muft be, to face the tempeft's rage,
In thought, in life, in death, a King.

A FATHER'S ADVICE TO HIS SON:

AN ELEGY.

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IN IMITATION OF THE OLD SONG то

WINIFREDA.

WRITTEN IN THE YEAR 1758.

BY THE SAME.

afpice vultus

Ecce meos: utinamque oculos in pectore poffes
Inferere, et patrias intus dependere curas.

DEEF

OVID. METAM,

EEP in a grove by cypress shaded,

Where mid-day fun had seldom fhone, Or noife the folemn scene invaded,

Save fome afflicted mufe's moan,

A fwain t'wards full-ag'd manhood wending
Sat forrowing at the clofe of day,
At whofe fond fide a boy attending
Lifp'd half his father's cares away.

The father's eyes no object wrefted,
But on the smiling prattler hung,
Till, what his throbbling heart fuggested,

These accents trembled from his tongue.

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"My youth's first hopes, my manhood's treasure, "My prattling Innocent, attend,

"Nor fear rebuke, or four displeasure,

"A father's lovelieft name is friend.

"Some truths, from long experience flowing, "Worth more than royal grants receive,

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For truths are wealth of heav'n's bestowing, "Which kings have seldom power to give. 20

"Since from an ancient race defcended

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“ You boast an unattainted blood,

By yours be their fair fame attended,
"And claim by birth-right to be good.

"In love for ev'ry fellow-creature,

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Superior rise above the crowd;

"What most ennobles human nature

"Was ne'er the portion of the proud.

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"Be thine the gen'rous heart that borrows
"From others' joys a friendly glow,
"And for each hapless neighbour's forrows
"Throbs with a sympathetic woe.

"This is the temper moft endearing;

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"Tho' wide proud Pomp her banners spreads, "An heav'nlier pow'r good-nature bearing "Each heart in willing thraldom leads.

"Tafte not from fame's uncertain fountain "The peace-deftroying ftreams that flow, "Nor from ambition's dang'rous mountain "Look down upon the world below.

"The princely pine on hills exalted,
"Whofe lofty branches cleave the sky,
"By winds, long brav'd, at last assaulted,
"Is headlong whirl'd in dust to lie ;

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"Whilft the mild rose more safely growing

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"Low in its unaspiring vale,

"Amidft retirement's fhelter blowing,

"Exchanges fweets with ev'ry gale.

"Wish not for beauty's darling features

"Moulded by nature's fondling pow'r, "For fairest forms 'mong human creatures "Shine but the pageants of an hour.

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