The Poetical Works of Robert Lloyd ... To Which is Prefixed an Account of the Life and Writings of the Author. By W. Kenrick ... In Two Volumes |
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 | II. |
THE FIRST BOOK OF
THE HENRIADE.
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 | The Poetical Works of Robert Lloyd |  |
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THE FIRST BOOK OF THE HENRIADE.
TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH OF M. DE VOLTAIRE.
Thy chieftain, France, of try'd illustrious worth,
By right of conquest king, by right of birth,
I sing. Who, tutor'd in misfortune's school,
There learnt the noblest science, how to Rule;
Bad Faction's furious discord cease to rave,
Valiant to conquer, merciful to save;
Baffled the daring League's rebellious schemes,
Mayenne's proud hopes, and Spain's ambitious dreams:
With civil prudence blest, with martial fire,
A nation's conqueror, and a nation's sire.
By right of conquest king, by right of birth,
I sing. Who, tutor'd in misfortune's school,
There learnt the noblest science, how to Rule;
Bad Faction's furious discord cease to rave,
Valiant to conquer, merciful to save;
Baffled the daring League's rebellious schemes,
Mayenne's proud hopes, and Spain's ambitious dreams:
With civil prudence blest, with martial fire,
A nation's conqueror, and a nation's sire.
Truth, heavenly maid, from th' Empyræan height
Descend, and with thy strong and purest light
My verse illume! and O, let mortals hear
Thy sacred word, and awfully revere!
Be thou my guide! thy sage experience brings
Unerring maxims to the ear of kings.
'Tis thine, blest 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 she what ills from civil discord rise!
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 sterner 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 spring stronger into light,
With me, permit her all thy steps to trace,
Not to conceal thy beauties, but to grace!
Descend, and with thy strong and purest light
My verse illume! and O, let mortals hear
Thy sacred word, and awfully revere!
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Unerring maxims to the ear of kings.
'Tis thine, blest 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 she what ills from civil discord rise!
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 sterner 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 spring stronger into light,
With me, permit her all thy steps to trace,
Not to conceal thy beauties, but to grace!
Still Valois reign'd, and sunk in pleasure's bow'r,
O'er a mad state held loose the reigns of pow'r:
The trampled Law had lost its ancient force,
And Right confounded, miss'd her even course.
'Twas thus when Valois France's sceptre 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 laurel's wither'd, and all blasted now,
Which conquest hung upon his infant brow;
Whose progress Europe mark'd with conscious fear,
Whose loss 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 second rank, the light which strikes the eyes,
Rais'd to the first, grows dim, and feebly dies.
From war's stern soldier, active, firm, and brave,
He sunk a monarch, pleasure's abject slave.
Lull'd with soft ease, forgetful all of state,
His weakness totter'd with a kingdom's weight;
Whilst lost in sloth, and dead to glorious fame,
The sons 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 lust intemperate, and lethargic ease.
O'er a mad state held loose the reigns of pow'r:
The trampled Law had lost its ancient force,
And Right confounded, miss'd her even course.
'Twas thus when Valois France's sceptre 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;
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Which conquest hung upon his infant brow;
Whose progress Europe mark'd with conscious fear,
Whose loss 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 second rank, the light which strikes the eyes,
Rais'd to the first, grows dim, and feebly dies.
From war's stern soldier, active, firm, and brave,
He sunk a monarch, pleasure's abject slave.
Lull'd with soft ease, forgetful all of state,
His weakness totter'd with a kingdom's weight;
Whilst lost in sloth, and dead to glorious fame,
The sons 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 lust intemperate, and lethargic ease.
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 sacred Monaich brav'd,
Led by those Tyrants, who their rights enslav'd.
His friends forsook him, helpless and alone,
His servants chas'd him from his royal throne;
Revolted Paris, deaf to kingly awe,
Within her gates the crouding stranger saw.
Through all the city burst rebellion's flame;
And all was lost, 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 sluggish sons of shame,
Onward they press, where glory calls, to arms,
And spring to War from Pleasure's silken charms:
To Paris' gates both kings advance amain,
Rome felt th' alarm, and trembled haughty Spain:
While Europe, watching where the tempest falls,
With anxious eyes beheld th' unhappy walls.
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 sacred Monaich brav'd,
Led by those Tyrants, who their rights enslav'd.
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His servants chas'd him from his royal throne;
Revolted Paris, deaf to kingly awe,
Within her gates the crouding stranger saw.
Through all the city burst rebellion's flame;
And all was lost, 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 sluggish sons of shame,
Onward they press, where glory calls, to arms,
And spring to War from Pleasure's silken charms:
To Paris' gates both kings advance amain,
Rome felt th' alarm, and trembled haughty Spain:
While Europe, watching where the tempest falls,
With anxious eyes beheld th' unhappy walls.
Within was Discord, with her hell-born train,
Stirring to war the League, and haughty Mayne,
The people, and the church: and from on high
Call'd out to Spain, rebellion's prompt ally.
Discord, dread monster, deas to human woe,
To her own subjects an avengeful foe,
Bloody, impetuous, eager to destroy,
In man's misfortune founds her hateful joy;
To neither party ought of mercy shown,
Well-pleas'd she stabs the dagger in her own;
Dwells a fierce tyrant in the breast she fires,
And smiles to punish what herself inspires.
Stirring to war the League, and haughty Mayne,
The people, and the church: and from on high
Call'd out to Spain, rebellion's prompt ally.
Discord, dread monster, deas to human woe,
To her own subjects an avengeful foe,
Bloody, impetuous, eager to destroy,
In man's misfortune founds her hateful joy;
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Well-pleas'd she stabs the dagger in her own;
Dwells a fierce tyrant in the breast she fires,
And smiles to punish what herself inspires.
West of the city, near those borders gay,
Where Seine obliquely winds her sloping way,
(Scenes now, where pleasure's soft retreats are found,
Where triumphs art, and nature smiles around,
Then, by the will of fate, the bloody stage
For war's stern combat and relentless rage)
Th' unhappy Valois bad his troops advance,
There rush'd at once the generous strength of France.
A thousand heroes, eager for the fight,
By sects divided, from revenge unite.
These virtuous Bourbon leads, their chosen guide,
Their cause confederate, and their hearts allied.
It seem'd the army felt one common flame,
Their zeal, religion, cause, and chief the same.
Where Seine obliquely winds her sloping way,
(Scenes now, where pleasure's soft retreats are found,
Where triumphs art, and nature smiles around,
Then, by the will of fate, the bloody stage
For war's stern combat and relentless rage)
Th' unhappy Valois bad his troops advance,
There rush'd at once the generous strength of France.
A thousand heroes, eager for the fight,
By sects divided, from revenge unite.
These virtuous Bourbon leads, their chosen guide,
Their cause confederate, and their hearts allied.
It seem'd the army felt one common flame,
Their zeal, religion, cause, and chief the same.
The sacred Louis, sire of Bourbon's race,
From azure skies, beside the throne of grace,
With holy joy beheld his future heir,
And ey'd the Hero with paternal care;
With such as prophets feel, a blest presage,
He saw the virtues of his ripening age:
Saw Glory round him all her laurels deal,
Yet wail'd his errors, tho' he lov'd his zeal;
With eye prophetic he beheld e'en now,
The crown of France adorn his royal brow;
He knew the wreath was destin'd which they gave,
More will'd the Saint, the light which shines to save.
From azure skies, beside the throne of grace,
With holy joy beheld his future heir,
And ey'd the Hero with paternal care;
With such as prophets feel, a blest presage,
He saw the virtues of his ripening age:
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Yet wail'd his errors, tho' he lov'd his zeal;
With eye prophetic he beheld e'en now,
The crown of France adorn his royal brow;
He knew the wreath was destin'd which they gave,
More will'd the Saint, the light which shines to save.
Still Henry's steps mov'd onward to the throne,
By secret ways, e'en to himself unknown.
His help from Heaven the Holy Prophet sent,
But hid the arm his wise indulgence lent;
Lest sure of conquest, he had slack'd his flame,
Nor grappl'd danger for the meed of fame.
By secret ways, e'en to himself unknown.
His help from Heaven the Holy Prophet sent,
But hid the arm his wise indulgence lent;
Lest sure of conquest, he had slack'd his flame,
Nor grappl'd danger for the meed of fame.
Already Mars had donn'd his coat of mail,
And doubtful Conquest held her even scale;
Carnage with blood had mark'd his purple way,
And slaughter'd heaps in wild confusion lay,
When Valois thus his part'ner king addrest,
The sigh deep-heaving from his anxious breast.
And doubtful Conquest held her even scale;
Carnage with blood had mark'd his purple way,
And slaughter'd heaps in wild confusion lay,
When Valois thus his part'ner king addrest,
The sigh deep-heaving from his anxious breast.
“You see what fate, what humbling fate is mine,
“Nor yet alone,—the injury is thine.
“The dauntless League, by hardy Chieftains led,
“Which hisses faction with her Hydra head,
“Boldly confederate by a desperate oath,
“Aims not at me alone, but strikes at both.
“Tho' I long since the regal circle wear,
“Tho' thou by rank succeed my rightful heir,
“Paris disowns us, nor will homage bring
“To me their present, you their future king.
“Thine, well they know the next illustrious claim,
“From law, from birth, and deeds of loudest fame;
“Yet from that throne's hereditary right
“Where I but totter, wou'd exclude thee quite.
“Religion hurls her furious bolts on thee,
“And holy councils join her firm decree:
“Rome, tho' she raise no soldier's martial band,
“Yet kindles war thro' every awe-struck land;
“Beneath her banners bids each host repair,
“And trusts her thunder to the Spaniard's care,
“Far from my hopes each summer friend is flown,
“No subjects hail me on my sacred throne;
“No kindred now the kind affection shows,
“All fly, their king, abandon, or oppose:
“Rich in my spoils, with greedy treacherous haste,
“While the base Spaniard lays my country waste.
“Midst foes like these, abandon'd, and betray'd,
“France in her turn shall seek a foreign aid:
“Shall Britain's court by secret methods try,
“And win Eliza for a firm ally.
“Of old I know between each pow'rful state,
“Subsists a jealous and immortal hate;
“That London lifts its tow'ring front on high,
“And looks on Paris with a rival eye;
“But I, the monarch of each pageant throne,
“Have now no subjects, and no country own:
“Vengeance alone my stern resolves avow,
“Who gives me that, to me is Frenchman now.
“The snail-pac'd agents, whose deliberate way,
“Creeps on in trammels of prescrib'd delay,
“Such fit not now; 'tis You, great Prince, alone
“Must haste a suppliant to Eliza's throne.
“Your voice alone shall needful succours bring,
“And arm Britannia for an injur'd king.
“To Albion hence, and let thy happier name
“Plead the king's cause, and raise their generous flame!
“My foes' defeat upon thy arm depends,
“But from thy virtues I must hope for friends.”
“Nor yet alone,—the injury is thine.
“The dauntless League, by hardy Chieftains led,
“Which hisses faction with her Hydra head,
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“Aims not at me alone, but strikes at both.
“Tho' I long since the regal circle wear,
“Tho' thou by rank succeed my rightful heir,
“Paris disowns us, nor will homage bring
“To me their present, you their future king.
“Thine, well they know the next illustrious claim,
“From law, from birth, and deeds of loudest fame;
“Yet from that throne's hereditary right
“Where I but totter, wou'd exclude thee quite.
“Religion hurls her furious bolts on thee,
“And holy councils join her firm decree:
“Rome, tho' she raise no soldier's martial band,
“Yet kindles war thro' every awe-struck land;
“Beneath her banners bids each host repair,
“And trusts her thunder to the Spaniard's care,
“Far from my hopes each summer friend is flown,
“No subjects hail me on my sacred throne;
“No kindred now the kind affection shows,
“All fly, their king, abandon, or oppose:
“Rich in my spoils, with greedy treacherous haste,
“While the base Spaniard lays my country waste.
“Midst foes like these, abandon'd, and betray'd,
“France in her turn shall seek a foreign aid:
“Shall Britain's court by secret methods try,
“And win Eliza for a firm ally.
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“Subsists a jealous and immortal hate;
“That London lifts its tow'ring front on high,
“And looks on Paris with a rival eye;
“But I, the monarch of each pageant throne,
“Have now no subjects, and no country own:
“Vengeance alone my stern resolves avow,
“Who gives me that, to me is Frenchman now.
“The snail-pac'd agents, whose deliberate way,
“Creeps on in trammels of prescrib'd delay,
“Such fit not now; 'tis You, great Prince, alone
“Must haste a suppliant to Eliza's throne.
“Your voice alone shall needful succours bring,
“And arm Britannia for an injur'd king.
“To Albion hence, and let thy happier name
“Plead the king's cause, and raise their generous flame!
“My foes' defeat upon thy arm depends,
“But from thy virtues I must hope for friends.”
Thus spoke the king, while Henry's looks confest
The jealous ardour which inflam'd his breast,
Lest others' arms might urge their glorious claim,
And ravish from him half the meed of fame.
With deep regret the Hero number'd o'er
The wreaths of glory he had won before;
When, without succours, without skill's intrigue,
Himself with Conde shook the trembling League.
When those command, who hold the regal sway,
It is a subject's virtue to obey.
Resolv'd to follow what the King commands,
The blows, suspended, fell not from his hands;
He rein'd the ardour of his noble mind,
And parting left the gather'd wreaths behind.
Th' astonish'd army felt a deep concern,
Fate seem'd depending on the Chief's return.
His absence still unknown, the pent-up foe
In dire expectance dread the sudden blow;
While Valois' troops still feel their hero's flame,
And virtue triumphs in her Henry's name.
The jealous ardour which inflam'd his breast,
Lest others' arms might urge their glorious claim,
And ravish from him half the meed of fame.
With deep regret the Hero number'd o'er
The wreaths of glory he had won before;
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Himself with Conde shook the trembling League.
When those command, who hold the regal sway,
It is a subject's virtue to obey.
Resolv'd to follow what the King commands,
The blows, suspended, fell not from his hands;
He rein'd the ardour of his noble mind,
And parting left the gather'd wreaths behind.
Th' astonish'd army felt a deep concern,
Fate seem'd depending on the Chief's return.
His absence still unknown, the pent-up foe
In dire expectance dread the sudden blow;
While Valois' troops still feel their hero's flame,
And virtue triumphs in her Henry's name.
Of all his fav'rites, none their chief attend,
Save Mornay brave, his soul's familiar friend.
Mornay of steady faith, and manners plain,
And truth, untainted with the flatt'rers strain;
Rich in desert, of valour rarely tried,
A virtuous champion, tho' on error's side;
With signal prudence blest, with patriot zeal
Firm to his church, and to the public weal;
Censor of courtiers, but by courts belov'd,
Rome's fierce assailant, and by Rome approv'd.
Save Mornay brave, his soul's familiar friend.
Mornay of steady faith, and manners plain,
And truth, untainted with the flatt'rers strain;
Rich in desert, of valour rarely tried,
A virtuous champion, tho' on error's side;
With signal prudence blest, with patriot zeal
Firm to his church, and to the public weal;
Censor of courtiers, but by courts belov'd,
Rome's fierce assailant, and by Rome approv'd.
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Across two rocks, where with tremendous roar,
The foaming ocean lashes either shore,
To Dieppe's strong port the Hero's steps repair,
The ready sailors ply their busy care.
The tow'ring ships, old ocean's lordly kings,
Aloft in air display their canvas wings;
Not swell'd by Boreas now, the glassy seas
Flow'd calmly on, with Zephyr's gentle breeze.
Now, anchor weigh'd, they quit the friendly shore,
And land receding greets their eyes no more.
Jocund they sail'd, and Albion's chalky height
At distance rose full fairly to the sight.
When rumbling thunders rend th' affrighted pole,
Loud roar the winds, and seas tempestuous roll:
The livid lightnings cleave the darken'd air,
And all around reigns horror and despair.
No partial fear the Hero's bosom knows,
Which only trembled for his country's woes,
It seem'd his looks toward her in silence bent,
Accus'd the winds, which cross'd his great intent.
So Cæsar, striving for a conquer'd world,
Near Epire's banks, with adverse tempests hurl'd,
Trusting, undaunted, and securely brave,
Rome's and the world's fate to the swelling wave.
Tho' leagu'd with Pompey Neptune's self engage,
Oppos'd his fortune to dull Ocean's rage.
The foaming ocean lashes either shore,
To Dieppe's strong port the Hero's steps repair,
The ready sailors ply their busy care.
The tow'ring ships, old ocean's lordly kings,
Aloft in air display their canvas wings;
Not swell'd by Boreas now, the glassy seas
Flow'd calmly on, with Zephyr's gentle breeze.
Now, anchor weigh'd, they quit the friendly shore,
And land receding greets their eyes no more.
Jocund they sail'd, and Albion's chalky height
At distance rose full fairly to the sight.
When rumbling thunders rend th' affrighted pole,
Loud roar the winds, and seas tempestuous roll:
The livid lightnings cleave the darken'd air,
And all around reigns horror and despair.
No partial fear the Hero's bosom knows,
Which only trembled for his country's woes,
It seem'd his looks toward her in silence bent,
Accus'd the winds, which cross'd his great intent.
So Cæsar, striving for a conquer'd world,
Near Epire's banks, with adverse tempests hurl'd,
Trusting, undaunted, and securely brave,
Rome's and the world's fate to the swelling wave.
Tho' leagu'd with Pompey Neptune's self engage,
Oppos'd his fortune to dull Ocean's rage.
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Mean time that God, whose power the tempest binds,
Who rides triumphant on the wings of winds,
That God, whose wisdom, which presides o'er all,
Can raise, protect, or crush this earthly ball,
From his bright throne, beyond the starry skies,
Beheld the Hero with considering eyes,
God was his guide, and 'mid the tempest's roar
The tossing vessel reach'd the neighbouring shore;
Where Jersey rises from the ocean's bed,
There, heaven-conducted, was the Hero led.
Who rides triumphant on the wings of winds,
That God, whose wisdom, which presides o'er all,
Can raise, protect, or crush this earthly ball,
From his bright throne, beyond the starry skies,
Beheld the Hero with considering eyes,
God was his guide, and 'mid the tempest's roar
The tossing vessel reach'd the neighbouring shore;
Where Jersey rises from the ocean's bed,
There, heaven-conducted, was the Hero led.
At a small distance from the shore, there stood
The growth of many years, a shadowy wood.
A neighbouring rock the calm retirement saves
From the rude blasts, and hoarse-resounding waves.
A grotto stands behind, whose structure knows
The simple grace, which nature's hand bestows.
Here far from court remov'd, a holy Sage
Spent the mild evening of declining age.
While free from worldly toils, and worldly woe,
His only study was himself to know:
Here mus'd, regretting on his mispent days,
Or lost in love, or pleasure's flowry maze.
No gusts of folly swell the dangerous tide,
While all his passions to a calm subside;
The bubble life he held an empty dream,
His food the simple herb, his drink the stream;
Tranquil and calm he drew his aged breath,
And look'd with patience toward the port of death,
When the pure soul to blissful realms shall soar,
And join with God himself to part no more.
The God he worshipp'd ey'd the zealous Sage,
And bless'd with wisdom's lore his silver'd age:
Gave him the skill of prophecy to know,
And from fate's volume read events below.
The growth of many years, a shadowy wood.
A neighbouring rock the calm retirement saves
From the rude blasts, and hoarse-resounding waves.
A grotto stands behind, whose structure knows
The simple grace, which nature's hand bestows.
Here far from court remov'd, a holy Sage
Spent the mild evening of declining age.
While free from worldly toils, and worldly woe,
His only study was himself to know:
Here mus'd, regretting on his mispent days,
Or lost in love, or pleasure's flowry maze.
No gusts of folly swell the dangerous tide,
While all his passions to a calm subside;
233
His food the simple herb, his drink the stream;
Tranquil and calm he drew his aged breath,
And look'd with patience toward the port of death,
When the pure soul to blissful realms shall soar,
And join with God himself to part no more.
The God he worshipp'd ey'd the zealous Sage,
And bless'd with wisdom's lore his silver'd age:
Gave him the skill of prophecy to know,
And from fate's volume read events below.
The Sage with conscious joy the Prince address'd,
And spread the table for his royal guest;
The prompt repast, which simple nature suits,
The stream's fresh water, and the forest's roots.
Not unaccustom'd to the homely fare,
The Warrior sat; for oft from busy care,
From courts retir'd, and pomp's fastidious pride,
The Hero dar'd to throw the king aside:
And in the rustic cot well-pleas'd partook
Of labour's mean repast, and chearful look;
Found in himself the joys to kings unknown
And self depos'd forgot the lordly throne.
And spread the table for his royal guest;
The prompt repast, which simple nature suits,
The stream's fresh water, and the forest's roots.
Not unaccustom'd to the homely fare,
The Warrior sat; for oft from busy care,
From courts retir'd, and pomp's fastidious pride,
The Hero dar'd to throw the king aside:
And in the rustic cot well-pleas'd partook
Of labour's mean repast, and chearful look;
Found in himself the joys to kings unknown
And self depos'd forgot the lordly throne.
The world's contention to their minds supplies
Much converse, wholsome to the good and wise.
Much did they talk of woes in human life,
Of Christian kingdoms torn with jarring strife.
The zeal of Mornay, like a stubborn fort,
Attach'd to Calvin stood his firm support.
Henry, still doubting, sought th' indulgent skies,
That lights' clear ray might burst upon his eyes,
“Must then, said he, the truth be always found,
“To mortals weak with mists encompas'd round?
“Must I still err, my way in darkness trod,
“Nor know the path which leads me to my God?
“If all alike he will'd us to obey,
“The God who will'd it, had prescrib'd the way.
Much converse, wholsome to the good and wise.
234
Of Christian kingdoms torn with jarring strife.
The zeal of Mornay, like a stubborn fort,
Attach'd to Calvin stood his firm support.
Henry, still doubting, sought th' indulgent skies,
That lights' clear ray might burst upon his eyes,
“Must then, said he, the truth be always found,
“To mortals weak with mists encompas'd round?
“Must I still err, my way in darkness trod,
“Nor know the path which leads me to my God?
“If all alike he will'd us to obey,
“The God who will'd it, had prescrib'd the way.
“Let us not vainly God's designs explore!
“(The Sage reply'd) be humble, and adore!
“Arraign not madly heav'n's unerring laws
“For faults, where mortals are themselves the cause.
“These aged eyes beheld in days of yore,
“When Calvin's doctrine reach'd the Gallic shore,
“Then, tho' with blood it now distains the earth,
“Creeping in shade and humble in the birth,
“I saw it banish'd by religion's laws,
“Without one friend to combat in the cause.
“Thro' ways oblique I saw the phantom tread,
“Slow winding, and asham'd to rear her head,
“'Till, at the last, upheld by pow'rsul arms,
“'Midst cannon's thunder, and 'mid war's alarms,
“Burst forth the Monster in the glare of light,
“With tow'ring front full dreadful to the sight;
“To scoul at mortals from her tyrant seat,
“And spurn our altars at her impious feet.
“Far then from courts, beneath this peaceful cot,
“I wail'd Religion's and my Country's lot;
“Yet here, to comfort my declining days,
“Some dawn of hope presents its chearful rays.
“So new a worship cannot long survive,
“Which man's caprice alone has kept alive.
“With that it rose, with that shall die away,
“Man's works and Man are bubbles of a day.
“The God, who reigns for ever and the same,
“At pleasure blasts a world's presumptuous aim.
“Vain is our malice, vain our strength display'd,
“To sap the city his right hand hath made;
“Himself hath fix'd the strong foundations low,
“Which brave the wreck of time, and hell's inveterate blow:
“The Lord of Lords shall bless thy purged sight
“With bright effulgence of diviner light;
“On thee, Great Prince, his mercies he'll bestow,
“And shed that Truth thy bosom pants to know.
“That God hath chose thee, and his hand alone
“Safe through the war shall lead thee to a throne.
“Conquest already (for his voice is fate,)
“For thee bids Glory ope her golden gate.
“If on thy sight the Truth unnotic'd falls,
“Hope not admission in thy Paris' walls.
“Tho' splendid Ease invite thee to her arms,
“O shun, Great Prince, the Syren's poison'd charms!
“O'er thy strong passions hold a glorious reign,
“Fly love's soft lap, break pleasure's silken chain!
“And when, with efforts strong, all foes o'er thrown,
“A league's great conqueror, and what's more Your Own,
“When, with united hearts, and triumph's voice,
“Thy people hail thee with one common choice,
“From a dread siege, to fame for ever known,
“To mount with glory thy paternal throne,
“That time, Affiction shall lay by her rod,
“And thy glad eyes shall seek thy father's God:
“Then shalt thou see from whence thy arms prevail.
“Go, Prince—Who trusts in GOD—can never fail.”
“(The Sage reply'd) be humble, and adore!
“Arraign not madly heav'n's unerring laws
“For faults, where mortals are themselves the cause.
“These aged eyes beheld in days of yore,
“When Calvin's doctrine reach'd the Gallic shore,
“Then, tho' with blood it now distains the earth,
“Creeping in shade and humble in the birth,
“I saw it banish'd by religion's laws,
“Without one friend to combat in the cause.
“Thro' ways oblique I saw the phantom tread,
“Slow winding, and asham'd to rear her head,
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“'Midst cannon's thunder, and 'mid war's alarms,
“Burst forth the Monster in the glare of light,
“With tow'ring front full dreadful to the sight;
“To scoul at mortals from her tyrant seat,
“And spurn our altars at her impious feet.
“Far then from courts, beneath this peaceful cot,
“I wail'd Religion's and my Country's lot;
“Yet here, to comfort my declining days,
“Some dawn of hope presents its chearful rays.
“So new a worship cannot long survive,
“Which man's caprice alone has kept alive.
“With that it rose, with that shall die away,
“Man's works and Man are bubbles of a day.
“The God, who reigns for ever and the same,
“At pleasure blasts a world's presumptuous aim.
“Vain is our malice, vain our strength display'd,
“To sap the city his right hand hath made;
“Himself hath fix'd the strong foundations low,
“Which brave the wreck of time, and hell's inveterate blow:
“The Lord of Lords shall bless thy purged sight
“With bright effulgence of diviner light;
“On thee, Great Prince, his mercies he'll bestow,
“And shed that Truth thy bosom pants to know.
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“Safe through the war shall lead thee to a throne.
“Conquest already (for his voice is fate,)
“For thee bids Glory ope her golden gate.
“If on thy sight the Truth unnotic'd falls,
“Hope not admission in thy Paris' walls.
“Tho' splendid Ease invite thee to her arms,
“O shun, Great Prince, the Syren's poison'd charms!
“O'er thy strong passions hold a glorious reign,
“Fly love's soft lap, break pleasure's silken chain!
“And when, with efforts strong, all foes o'er thrown,
“A league's great conqueror, and what's more Your Own,
“When, with united hearts, and triumph's voice,
“Thy people hail thee with one common choice,
“From a dread siege, to fame for ever known,
“To mount with glory thy paternal throne,
“That time, Affiction shall lay by her rod,
“And thy glad eyes shall seek thy father's God:
“Then shalt thou see from whence thy arms prevail.
“Go, Prince—Who trusts in GOD—can never fail.”
Each word the Sage's holy lips impart,
Falls, like a flame, on Henry's generous heart.
The Hero stood transported in his mind
To times, when God held converse with mankind,
When simple virtue taught her heav'n-born lore,
And Truth commanding bid e'en kings adore.
His eager arms the reverend Sage embrace,
And the warm tear fast trickled down his face.
Untouch'd, yet lost awhile in deep surprise,
Stood Mornay brave; for still on Mornay's eyes
Hung error's mist, and God's high will conceal'd
The gifts from him to Henry's breast reveal'd.
His wisdom idly wou'd the world prefer,
Whose lot, tho' rich in virtues, was to err.
While the wrapt Sage fulfilling God's behest,
Spoke inspiration to the Prince's breast,
Hush'd were the winds, within their caverns bound,
Smooth flow'd the seas, and nature smil'd around.
The Sage his guide, the Hero sought his way
Where the tall vessels safe at anchor lay:
The ready sailors quit the friendly strand,
Hoist the glad sails, and make for Albion's land.
Falls, like a flame, on Henry's generous heart.
237
To times, when God held converse with mankind,
When simple virtue taught her heav'n-born lore,
And Truth commanding bid e'en kings adore.
His eager arms the reverend Sage embrace,
And the warm tear fast trickled down his face.
Untouch'd, yet lost awhile in deep surprise,
Stood Mornay brave; for still on Mornay's eyes
Hung error's mist, and God's high will conceal'd
The gifts from him to Henry's breast reveal'd.
His wisdom idly wou'd the world prefer,
Whose lot, tho' rich in virtues, was to err.
While the wrapt Sage fulfilling God's behest,
Spoke inspiration to the Prince's breast,
Hush'd were the winds, within their caverns bound,
Smooth flow'd the seas, and nature smil'd around.
The Sage his guide, the Hero sought his way
Where the tall vessels safe at anchor lay:
The ready sailors quit the friendly strand,
Hoist the glad sails, and make for Albion's land.
While o'er her coast his eyes admiring range,
He prais'd in silence Britain's happier change:
Where laws abus'd by soul intestine foes,
Had erst entail'd a heap of dreadful woes
On prince and people; on that bloody stage,
Where slaughter'd heroes bled for civil rage;
On that bright throne, from whence descended springs,
Th' illustrious lineage of a hundred kings,
Like Henry, long in adverse fortune school'd,
O'er willing English hearts a Woman rul'd:
And, rich in manly courage, female grace,
Clos'd the long lustre of her crouded race.
Eliza then, in Britain's happiest hour,
Held the just balance of contending pow'r;
Made English subjects bow the willing knee,
Who will not serve, and are not happy free.
Beneath her sacred reign the nation knows
No sad remembrance of its former woes;
Their flocks securely graz'd the fertile plain,
Their garners bursting with their golden grain.
The stately ships, their swelling sails unfurl'd,
Brought wealth and homage from the distant world:
All Europe watch'd Britannia's bold decree,
Dreaded by land, and monarch of the sea.
Wide o'er the waves her fleet exulting rode,
And fortune triumph'd over Ocean's God.
Proud London now, no more of barbarous fame,
To arms and commerce urg'd her blended claim.
Her pow'rs, in union leagu'd, together sate,
King, Lords, and Commons, in their threefold state.
Though separate each their several interest draw,
Yet all united form the stedfast law.
All three, one body's members, firm and fit,
Make but one pow'r in strong conjunction knit;
Pow'r to itself of danger often found,
But spreading terror to its neighbours round.
Blest, when the people duty's homage show,
And pay their king the tribute which they owe!
More blest, when kings for milder virtues known,
Protect their people's freedom from the throne!
“Ah when, cry'd Bourbon, shall our discord cease,
“Our glory, Albion, rise, like thine, in peace?
“Blush, blush, ye kings, ye lords of jarring states,
“A Woman bids, and War hath clos'd its gates:
“Your countries bleed with factious rage opprest,
“While She reigns happy o'er a people blest.”
He prais'd in silence Britain's happier change:
Where laws abus'd by soul intestine foes,
Had erst entail'd a heap of dreadful woes
238
Where slaughter'd heroes bled for civil rage;
On that bright throne, from whence descended springs,
Th' illustrious lineage of a hundred kings,
Like Henry, long in adverse fortune school'd,
O'er willing English hearts a Woman rul'd:
And, rich in manly courage, female grace,
Clos'd the long lustre of her crouded race.
Eliza then, in Britain's happiest hour,
Held the just balance of contending pow'r;
Made English subjects bow the willing knee,
Who will not serve, and are not happy free.
Beneath her sacred reign the nation knows
No sad remembrance of its former woes;
Their flocks securely graz'd the fertile plain,
Their garners bursting with their golden grain.
The stately ships, their swelling sails unfurl'd,
Brought wealth and homage from the distant world:
All Europe watch'd Britannia's bold decree,
Dreaded by land, and monarch of the sea.
Wide o'er the waves her fleet exulting rode,
And fortune triumph'd over Ocean's God.
Proud London now, no more of barbarous fame,
To arms and commerce urg'd her blended claim.
239
King, Lords, and Commons, in their threefold state.
Though separate each their several interest draw,
Yet all united form the stedfast law.
All three, one body's members, firm and fit,
Make but one pow'r in strong conjunction knit;
Pow'r to itself of danger often found,
But spreading terror to its neighbours round.
Blest, when the people duty's homage show,
And pay their king the tribute which they owe!
More blest, when kings for milder virtues known,
Protect their people's freedom from the throne!
“Ah when, cry'd Bourbon, shall our discord cease,
“Our glory, Albion, rise, like thine, in peace?
“Blush, blush, ye kings, ye lords of jarring states,
“A Woman bids, and War hath clos'd its gates:
“Your countries bleed with factious rage opprest,
“While She reigns happy o'er a people blest.”
Mean time the Hero reach'd the sea-girt isle,
Where freedom bids eternal plenty smile;
Not far from William's Tow'r at distance seen,
Stood the fam'd palace of the Virgin Queen.
Hither, the faithful Mornay at his side,
Without the noise and pageant pomp of pride,
The toys of grandeur which the vain pursue,
But glare unheeded to the Hero's view,
The Prince arriv'd: With bold and manly sense
He spoke, his frankness, all his eloquence;
Told his sad tale, and bow'd his lofty heart,
For France's woes, to act submission's part;
For needful aids the British Queen addrest,
While in the suppliant shone the king confest.
“Com'st thou, reply'd the Queen, with strange surprise,
“Com'st thou from Valois for the wish'd allies?
“Ask'st thou protection for a tyrant foe,
“Whose deadly hate work'd all thy fortune's woe?
“Far as the golden sun begins to rise,
“To where he drives adown the western skies,
“His strife and Thine to all the world is known:
“Stand'st thou for Him a friend at Britain's throne?
“And is that hand, which Valois oft hath fear'd,
“Arm'd in his cause, and for his vengeance rear'd?”
When thus the Prince: “A monarch's adverse fate
“Wipes all remembrance out of former hate.
“Valois was then a slave, his passion's slave,
“But now himself a monarch firm and brave;
“He bursts at once the ignominious chain,
“Resumes the Hero, and asserts his reign.
“Blest, if of nature more assur'd and free,
“He'd sought no aid but from himself and me!
“But, led by fraud, and arts, all insincere,
“He was my foe from weakness and from fear.
“His faults die with me, when his woes I view,
“I've gain'd the conquest—grant me vengeance, You!
“For know the work is thine, Illustrious Dame,
“To deck thy Albion's brows with worthiest fame.
“Let thy protection spread her ready wings,
“And fight with me the injur'd cause of Kings!”
Where freedom bids eternal plenty smile;
Not far from William's Tow'r at distance seen,
Stood the fam'd palace of the Virgin Queen.
Hither, the faithful Mornay at his side,
Without the noise and pageant pomp of pride,
240
But glare unheeded to the Hero's view,
The Prince arriv'd: With bold and manly sense
He spoke, his frankness, all his eloquence;
Told his sad tale, and bow'd his lofty heart,
For France's woes, to act submission's part;
For needful aids the British Queen addrest,
While in the suppliant shone the king confest.
“Com'st thou, reply'd the Queen, with strange surprise,
“Com'st thou from Valois for the wish'd allies?
“Ask'st thou protection for a tyrant foe,
“Whose deadly hate work'd all thy fortune's woe?
“Far as the golden sun begins to rise,
“To where he drives adown the western skies,
“His strife and Thine to all the world is known:
“Stand'st thou for Him a friend at Britain's throne?
“And is that hand, which Valois oft hath fear'd,
“Arm'd in his cause, and for his vengeance rear'd?”
When thus the Prince: “A monarch's adverse fate
“Wipes all remembrance out of former hate.
“Valois was then a slave, his passion's slave,
“But now himself a monarch firm and brave;
“He bursts at once the ignominious chain,
“Resumes the Hero, and asserts his reign.
241
“He'd sought no aid but from himself and me!
“But, led by fraud, and arts, all insincere,
“He was my foe from weakness and from fear.
“His faults die with me, when his woes I view,
“I've gain'd the conquest—grant me vengeance, You!
“For know the work is thine, Illustrious Dame,
“To deck thy Albion's brows with worthiest fame.
“Let thy protection spread her ready wings,
“And fight with me the injur'd cause of Kings!”
Eliza then, for much she wish'd to know,
The various turns of France's long-felt woe,
Whence rising first the civil discord came,
And Paris kindled to rebellion's flame—
“Tome, Great Prince, thy griefs are not unknown,
“Though brought imperfect, and by Fame alone;
“Whose rapid wing too indiscreetly flies,
“And spreads abroad her indigested lies.
“Deaf to her tales, from thee, Illustrious Youth,
“From thee alone Eliza seeks the truth.
“Tell me, for you have witness'd all the woe,
“Valois' brave friend, or Valois conquering foe,
“Say, whence this friendship, this alliance grew,
“Which knits the happy bond 'twixt him and you;
“Explain this wond'rous change, 'tis you alone
“Can paint the virtues which yourself hath shown.
“Teach me thy woes, for know thy story brings
“A moral lesson to the pride of kings.”
The various turns of France's long-felt woe,
Whence rising first the civil discord came,
And Paris kindled to rebellion's flame—
“Tome, Great Prince, thy griefs are not unknown,
“Though brought imperfect, and by Fame alone;
“Whose rapid wing too indiscreetly flies,
“And spreads abroad her indigested lies.
“Deaf to her tales, from thee, Illustrious Youth,
“From thee alone Eliza seeks the truth.
“Tell me, for you have witness'd all the woe,
“Valois' brave friend, or Valois conquering foe,
“Say, whence this friendship, this alliance grew,
“Which knits the happy bond 'twixt him and you;
242
“Can paint the virtues which yourself hath shown.
“Teach me thy woes, for know thy story brings
“A moral lesson to the pride of kings.”
“And must my memory then, Illustrious Queen,
“Recal the horrors of each dreadful scene?
“O had it pleas'd th' Almighty Pow'r (which knows,
“How my heart bleeds o'er all my country's woes)
“Oblivion then had snatch'd them from the light,
“And hid them buried in eternal night.
“Nearest of blood must I aloud proclaim,
“The princes' madness, and expose their shame?
“Reflection shakes my mind with wild dismay—
“But 'tis Eliza's will, and I obey.
“Others, in speaking, from their smooth address
“Might make their weakness or their crimes seem less:
“The flow'ry art was never made for me,
“I speak a soldier's language, plain and free.”
“Recal the horrors of each dreadful scene?
“O had it pleas'd th' Almighty Pow'r (which knows,
“How my heart bleeds o'er all my country's woes)
“Oblivion then had snatch'd them from the light,
“And hid them buried in eternal night.
“Nearest of blood must I aloud proclaim,
“The princes' madness, and expose their shame?
“Reflection shakes my mind with wild dismay—
“But 'tis Eliza's will, and I obey.
“Others, in speaking, from their smooth address
“Might make their weakness or their crimes seem less:
“The flow'ry art was never made for me,
“I speak a soldier's language, plain and free.”
| The Poetical Works of Robert Lloyd | |