His trembling voice attempt to sing,
And ape the poet's rage?

XXXI.

Here, Madam! let me visit one,

My fault who partly shares,
And tell myself, by telling him,

What more becomes our years.

XXXII.

And if your breast with prudent zeal

For Resignation glows,

You will not disapprove a just

Resentment at its foes.

XXXIII.

In youth, V---taire! our foibles plead

For some indulgence due;

When heads are white, their thoughts and aims
Should change their colour too.

XXXIV.

How are you cheated by your wit!

Old age is bound to pay,

By Nature's law, a mind discreet,
For joys it takes away.

XXXV.

A mighty change is wrought by years,

Reversing human lot;

In age 'tis honour to lie hid,

'Tis praise to be forgot.

XXXVI.

The wise, as flow'rs, which spread at noon,
And all their charms expose,

When ev'ning damps and shades descend,
Their evolutions close.

What tho' your Muse has nobly soar'd,

Is that our true sublime?

Ours, hoary Friend! is to prefer

Eternity to time.

XXXVII.

Why close a life so justly fam'd

With such bold trash as this? *

This for renown? yes, such as makes

Obscurity a bliss.

XXXIX.

Your trash, with mine at open war,

Is obstinately bent, †

Like wits below, to sow your tares

Of gloom and discontent.

XL.

With so much sunshine at command,

Why light with darkness mix?

Why dash with pain our pleasure? why

Your Helicon with Styx?

150

160

Confound us with a double stroke;
We shudder whilst we praise:

XLII.

A curious web, as finely wrought
As genius can inspire,

From a black bag of poison spun,
With horror we admire.

XLIII.

Mean as it is, if this is read
With a disdainful air,

I cann't forgive so great a foe
To my dear friend V---taire.

XLIV.

Early I knew him, early prais'd,
And long to praise him late;
His genius greatly I admire,

Nor would deplore his fate:

XLV.

A fate how much to be deplor'd,

At which our nature starts!

Forbear to fall on your own sword,

To perish by your parts.

XLVI.

"But great your name"---To feed on air

Were then immortals born?

Nothing is great, of which more great,

More glorious is the scorn.

170

180

XLVII.

190

Can fame your carcass from the worm,
Which gnaws us in the grave,

Or soul from that which never dies,
Applauding Europe, save?

XLVIII.

But fame you lose; good sense alone
Your idol, praise can claim;

When wild wit murders happiness,
It puts to death our fame.

XLIX.

Nor boast your genius; talents bright
Ev'n dunces will despise,

If in your western beams is miss'd

A genius for the skies.

L.

Your taste, too, fails: what most excels,

True taste must relish most;

And what, to rival palms above,

Can proudest laurels boast?

LI.

Sound heads salvation's helmet * seek;

Resplendent are its rays:

Let that suffice; it needs no plume

200

His eye, by flash of wit struck blind,
Restoring to its sight.

LIIT.

If so, all's well: who much have err'd,
That much have been forgiv'n;

I speak with joy, with joy he'll hear,
"V---taires are now in heav'n."

LIV.

Nay, such philanthropy divine,
So boundless in degree,

Its marvellous of love extends

(Stoop most profound!) to me.

LV.

Let others cruel stars arraign,
Or dwell on their distress;

But let my page, for mercies pour'd,
A grateful heart express.

LVI

Walking, the present God was seen,
Of old, in Eden fair!

The God as present, by plain steps

Of providential care.

210

220