48 VOLTAIRE. 



" Ah, happy he who to life's latest hour 

 Of the arts enamour'd, plucks their fruit and flower; 

 He braves injustice, snail-pac'd time beguiles, 

 Forgives his foes, at human folly smiles. 

 Life's glimmering lamp feeds with poetic fire, 

 And with his dying fingers sweeps the lyre." 



There is, perhaps, one yet greater passage, the con- 

 clusion of the third canto : 



" Qu'il est grand, qu'il est doux, de se dire a soi-meme, 

 Je n'ai point d'ennemis, j'ai des rivaux que j'aime, 

 Je prends part a leur gloire, a leur maux, a leur biens, 

 Les arts nous ont unis, leurs beaux jours sont les miens : 

 C'est ainsi que la terre avec plaisir rassemble, 

 Ces chenes, ces sapins, qui s'elevent ensemble, 

 Un sue tojuours egal est prepare pour eux ; 

 Leur pieds touchent aux enfers, leur cime est dans les cieux ; 

 Leur tronc inebranlable, et leur pompeuse tete, 

 Kesiste, en se touchant, aux coups de la tempete ; 

 Us vivent Tun par 1'autre, ils triomphent du temps, 

 Tandis que sous leur ombre on voit de vil serpens, 

 Se livrer, en sifflant, des guerres intestines, 

 Et de leur sang impure arroser leur racines." 



The following translation is most imperfect, and has 

 only the merit of being very literal : 



" How grand, how sweet, the heavenly strains ascend, 

 Foes I have none, my rival is my friend ; 

 The arts unite us, common are our cares, 

 And each the other's griefs and glories shares : 

 So Earth, our common parent, loves to rear 

 Yon oak, yon pine, and make them flourish near ; 

 On one green spot the sylvan giants stand, 

 Cast one broad shadow o'er the grateful land ; 

 Feel the same juice through all their veins arise ; 

 Deep pierce their roots entwined, their tops approach the skies. 

 Their trunks unshaken, of majestic form, 

 Embracing each the other, mock the storm ; 

 O'er time they triumph, strong in mutual aid, 

 While envious snakes, obscure, frequent their shade, 



