Translations and Poems Written on Several Subjects ::

Ye lofty Mountains , whose eternal Snows
Like Atlas, seem to prop the distant Skies;
While shelter'd by your high and ample Brows,
All Nature's Beauties feast my ravish'd Eyes:
And far beneath me o'er the distant Plain,
The Thunders break, and rattling Tempests reign.

II

As THRACIAN Hills, by impious Giants plac'd,
To Heav'n rear'd up their bold aspiring Heads;
So these (at length the painful Summit trac'd)
Present the Eye their fair-extended Meads:
Which in their Bosom other Mountains bear,
Whose pointed Tops are lost amidst the Air.

III

Here, when Aurora with her chearful Beam
And rosy Blushes mark'd approaching Day;
Oft have I walk'd along the purling Stream
And saw the bleating Flocks around me stray:
The Woods, the Rocks, each Charm that struck my Sight,
Fill'd my young Breast with innocent Delight.

IV

This wild uncultivated dear Retreat
In which my tender early Youth was blest,—
Scarce can I call to Mind without Regret,
Tho' here of my supremest Wish possest;
Where Spring and Autumn in Succession reign,
The Earth still blooming, and the Air serene.

V

Sweet Solitude , where with delightful Sound
The fair Dordonna rolls its Silver Flood;
Two lovely Isles its Waves encompass round,
Whose gently rising Banks are crown'd with Wood:

How shall th' inchanted Muse, in equal Verse
The artless Beauties of the Place rehearse?

VI

Here crown'd with Plenty, to the temper'd Breeze
The golden Vales their smiling Bosom spread;
While twining round the lofty spreading Trees
The lovely Vine reclines its purple Head:
And Ceres thus, and chearful Bacchus join
To pour out Stores of Corn and Floods of Wine.

VII

Afar I see the Chrystal Riv'lets shine
As down the shaggy Mountains Sides they play;
Then Woods and azure Landskips rise behind,
And the whole Prospect looks serenely gay;
While as I walk along the glassy Plain,
I see renew'd the sweetly painted Scene.

VIII

With ruddy Autumn's rich empurpled Stores,
The Odors of the rosy Spring I feel:
The River here, between its verdant Shores
Along the flow'ry Meadows seems to steal;

There breaking o'er the Banks with rapid Force,
Drives down the Steep its wild impetuous Course.

IX

Here gaily dancing on the flow'ry Ground
The chearful Shepherds join their Flute and Voice;
While thro' the Groves the Woodland Songs resound,
And fill th' untroubled Mind with peaceful Joys:
Music and Love inspire the vocal Plain,
Alone the Turtle tunes her plaintive Strain!

X

Here the green Turf invites my wearied Head
On Nature's Lap, to undisturb'd Repose;
Here gently laid to Rest — each Care is fled;
Peace and Content my happy Eye-lids close.
Ye golden flattering Dreams of State, adieu!
As bright my Slumbers are, more soft than you.

XI

Here free from all the Tempests of the Great,
Love and Ambition can deceive no more!
Beneath these Shades I find a blest Retreat,
From Envy's Rage secure, and Fortune's Pow'r:

Here call the Actions of past Ages o'er,
Or Truth's immortal Source alone explore.

XII

When wise Ulysses driv'n by Fortune's Sport
I see, an Exile from his Native Greece,
In Shipwreck calm, tho' tost from Port to Port,
Yet still preserving Constancy and Peace:
How dear the Calm I taste beneath the Shade!
Where no intruding Passion dares invade.

XIII

Here far from all the busy World's Alarms,
I prove in Peace the Muse's sacred Leisure:
No Cares within, no distant Sound of Arms,
Break my Repose, or interrupt my Pleasure.
Fortune and Fame! deceitful Forms! adieu!
The World's a Trifle far beneath my View.

XIV

Wherever Fate shall lead my wandring Way,
Still will I think, Sweet Solitude! on thee;
Still sigh beneath thy gloomy Walks to stray,
And end my Days from Guilt and Sorrow free:

There to my kindred Earth in Peace return,
While Thyrsis baths with friendly Tears my Urn.

The Mountains of Auvergne, esteemed the highest in France, where the Author was in his Infancy.

Carenac, a small Monastery on the Dordogne, which the Author then possessed.

Monsieur l' Abbe de Langeron, the Author's intimate Friend.

University of Virginia Library

ODE de Monsieur Fenelon (depuis Archeveque de Cambraï) ecrit dans sa Feunesse.

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