doubt, and therefore confirm all the rest. It is a phænomenon that you will be in the that of my lover. Freed from the pious cares that detain him still at the foot of the altars, love will soon bring him to mine (4). Let all around me partake of my joy. Let all bless the rising luminary by which we are enlightened. Ye flowers, that enclose in your bosoms the odours that cool night condenses there, open your buds, and exhale in the air your balmy vapours. I know not whether the delightful intoxication that possesses my soul, does not embellish whatever I behold; but the rivulet, that in pleasing meanders winds along this valley, enchants me with his murmurs. Zephyrus caresses me with his breath; the fragrant plants, pressed under my feet, waft to my senses their perfume. Oh! if Felicity sometimes condescends to visit the abodes of mortals, to these places, doubtless, she retires (5). But with what secret trouble am I agitated? Already impatience mingles its poison with the sweetness of my expectation. This valley has already lost all its beauties. Is Joy then so fleeting? It is as easy to snatch it from us, as for the light down of these plants to be blown away by the breath of the Zephyrs (6). In vain have I recourse to flattering (4) 'Twill not be long, ere his unbending mind Salutes me with most cool and temperate breath, (6) For safety now sits wavering on your love, Like the light down upon the thistle's beard, right to inform yourself about, and which I long to understand. Another phænomenon more. hope. Each moment increases my disturbance. He will come no Who keeps him at a distance from me? What duty more sacred than that of calming the inquietudes of love? But what do I say? Fly, jealous suspicions, injurious to his fidelity, (7) and formed to extinguish my tenderness. If jealousy grows by the side of love, it will stifle it, if not pulled up by the roots; it is the ivy which, by a verdant chain, embraces, but dries up the trunk which serves for its support (8). I know my lover too well to doubt of his tenderness. He, like me, has, far from the pomps of courts, sought the tranquil asylum of the fields. Touched by the simplicity of my heart, and by my beauty, my sensual rivals call him in vain to their arms. Shall he be seduced by the advances of coquetry, which, on the cheek of the young maid, tarnishes the snow of innocence and the carnation of modesty, and daubs it with the whiteness of art and the paint of effrontery? (9) What do I say? his contempt for her is perhaps only a snare for me. Can I be ignorant of the partiality of men, and the arts they employ to seduce us? Nourished in a contempt for our sex, it is not us, it is (7) Avaunt! ye vain delusive feasr. (8) See Elfrida. Ah see! how round yon branching elm the ivy, Clasps its green chain, and poisons what supports it. Not less injurious to the shoots of love I sickly jealousy. (9)-To guard Your beauties from the last of courtly gales. The crimson blush of virgin modesty, The delicate soft tints of innocence, There all fly off, and leave no boast behind But well-ranged, faded features. is, that I read it without finding it out: all I remember is, that I thought it not at all their pleasures that they love. Cruel as they are, they have placed in the rank of the virtues the barbarous fury of revenge, and the mad love of their country; but never have they reckoned fidelity among the virtues. Without remorse they abuse innocence, and often their vanity contemplates our griefs with delight. But no; fly far from me, ye odious thoughts, my lover will come! A thousand times have I experienced it: As soon as I perceive him, my agitated mind is calm, and I often forget the too`just cause I have for complaint; for near him I can only know happiness (10). Yet if he is treacherous to me; if, in the very moment when my love excuses him, he consummates the crime of infidelity in another bosom, may all nature take up arms in revenge! may he perish! What do I say? Ye elements, be deaf to my cries! Thou earth, open not thy profound abyss! let the monster walk the time prescribed him on thy splendid surface, let him still commit new erimes, and still cause the tears of the too credulous maids to flow and if heaven avenges them and punishes him, may it at least be at the prayer of some other unfortunate woman (11)." Here ends this odd instance of plagiarism. When M. Helvetius was in England, a year or two after I had made the disco (10)-My truant heart Forgets each lesson that Resentment taught, And in thy sight knows only to be happy. In the French it is more literal, "Pres de lui je ne scais qu'etre heureuse." (11) Till then, ye elements, rest; and thou, firm earth, Ope not thy yawning jaws; but let this monster Stalk his due time on thine affrighted surface: Yes, let him still go on, still execute His savage purposes and daily make More widows weep, as I do. English, and did not much like it; and the reason is plain, for the lyric flights and choral flowers suited not in the least with the circumstances or character of the speaker, as he had contrived it. CXVII. TO MR. BROWN.* February 17, 1763. You will make my best acknowledgments to Mr. How; who, not content to rank me in the number of his friends, is so polite as to make excuses for having done me that hon our. very of it, I took my measures (as Mr. Gray advised me) to learn how he came by it; and accordingly requested two noblemen, to whom he was introduced, to ask him some questions concerning it; but I could gain no satisfactory answer. I do not, however, by any means, suppose that the person who cooked up the disjointed parts of my drama into this strange fricasse, was M. Helvetius himself; I rather imagine (as I did from the first) that he was imposed upon by some young English traveller who contrived this expedient in order to pass with him for a poet. The great philosopher, it is true, has in this note been proved to be the receiver of stolen goods; but out of respect to his numerous fashionable disciples, both abroad and at home, whose credit might suffer with that of their master, I acquit him of what would only be held criminal at the Old Bailey, that he received these goods knowing them to be stolen. * Since of Pembroke-Hall. I was not born so far from the sun, as to be ignorant of count Algarotti's name and reputation; nor am I so far advanced in years, or in philosophy, as not to feel the warmth of his approbation. The odes in question, as their motto shows, were meant to be vocal to the intelligent alone. How few they were in my own country, Mr. How can testify; and yet my ambition was terminated by that small circle. I have good reason to be proud, if my voice has reached the ear and apprehension of a stranger, distinguished as one of the best judges in Europe. I am equally pleased with the just applause he bestows on Mr. Mason; and particularly on his Caractacus, which is the work of a man: whereas Elfrida is only that of a boy, a promising boy indeed, and of no common genius: yet this is the popular performance, and the other little known in comparison. Neither count Algarotti nor Mr. How (I believe) have heard of Ossian, the son of Fingal. If Mr. How were not upon the wing, and on his way homewards, I would send it to him in Italy. He would there see that imagination dwelt many hundred years ago, in all her pomp, on the cold and barren mountains of Scotland. The truth (I be |