« EelmineJätka »
OLTAIRE, believe me, were I now
* Born 1722; dyed 1769.
Or that th’ uncertain tongue of Fame
In filent solitude resign'd
E er in a grove by cypress shaded,
Where mid-day sun had seldom Thone, Or noise the folemn scene invaded,
Save some afflicted muse's moan,
A swain t'wards full-ag'd manhood wending
Sat sorrowing at the close of day, At whose fond fide a boy attending
Lisp'd half his father's cares away.
The father's eyes no object wrested,
But on the smiling prattler hung,
These accents trembled from his tongue.
“ My youth's first hopes, my manhood's treasure,
“ My prattling Innocent, attend, “ Nor fear rebuke, or four displeasure, 15
“ A father's loveliest name is friend.
« Some truths, from long experience flowing,
• Worth more than royal grants receive, • For truths are wealth of heav'n's bestowing,
" Which kings have seldom power to give. 2.
“ Since from an ancient race descended “ You boast an unattainted blood,
be their fair fame attended, “ And claim by birth-right to be good.
• By yours
“ In love for ev'ry fellow-creature,
Superior rise above the crowd ; • What most ennobles human nature
“ Was ne'er the portion of the proud.
“ Be thine the gen’rous heart that borrows
“ From others' joys a friendly glow, “ And for each hapless neighbour's sorrows
« Throbs with a sympathetic woe.
« This is the temper moft endearing ;
“ Tho' wide proud Pomp her banners spreads, “ An heav'nlier pow'r good-nature bearing 35
“ Each heart in willing thraldom leads.
- Taste not from fame's uncertain fountain
“ The peace-destroying streams that flow, “ Nor from ambition's dang’rous mountain
“ Look down upon the world below.
“ The princely pine on hills exalted,
“ Whose lofty branches cleave the sky, By winds, long brav’d, at last assaulted, “ Is headlong whirl'd in duft to lie;
" Whilft the mild rose more safely growing
“ Low in its unaspiring vale, “ Amidst retirement's shelter blowing,
“ Exchanges sweets with ev'ry gale.
“ Wish not for beauty's darling features
• Moulded by nature's fondling pow'r, " For fairelt forms ’mong human creatures
“ Shine but the pageants of an hour.