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aimer qu'a admirer." On his death, Rapin thus 

 speaks of him : " II n'y eut jamais une plus belle ame 

 jointe a un plus bel esprit. Le plus grand de tous les 

 eloges est, que le peuple 1'a pleure ; et chacun s'est 

 plaint de sa mort comme de la perte d'un ami, ou de 

 celle d'un bienfacteur." 



The name of Boileau is too interesting to be over- 

 looked. Many of his letters and pages discover the 

 delight he took in his garden at Auteuil. In his epis- 

 tle to Lamoignon, he describes his seat there as his 

 " bless'd abode," his " dear delicious shades," and he 

 then paints the pleasures of his country seat : 



Give me these shades, these forests, and these fields. 

 And the soft sweets that rural quiet yields ; 

 Oh, leave me to the fresh, the fragrant breeze, 

 And let me here awhile enjoy my ease. 

 Let me Pomona's plenteous blessings crop, 

 And see rich autumn's ripen d burden drop, 

 Till Bacchus with full clusters crowns the year, 

 And gladdens with his load the vintager. 



His celebrated epistle to Anthony, his old gardener, not 

 only shews the kind master, but his own love to his 

 garden. I cannot refrain from quoting a few lines 

 from Lempriere : " As a poet, Boilieu has deservedly 

 obtained the applauses of every man of genius and 

 taste. Not only his countrymen boast of the superior 

 effusions of his muse, but foreigners feel and admire 

 the graces, the strength and harmony of his verse, 

 and that delicacy of satire, and energy of style, by 

 which he raised himself to immortality." Another of 



