committed to prison. Here he remained some time; but, at length, obtained his liberty by this whimsical petition to the King "A harmless game, caus'd only for delight, Is play'd between the black house and the white; Use but your loyal hand;-'twill set me free :- YOUNG'S " NIGHT THOUGHTS" IN FRENCH. DE TOURNEOU, the elegant translator of Young's "Night Thoughts," sold the version for the very trifling sum of twenty-five louis d'ors, to a Madame Ducroné, who, at least, made sixty thousand livres of the work. Whilst De Tourneou was translating Young, and adding new energy to his native language, he was seldom indulged with a bed to repose his wearied limbs on:-he and his wife were often obliged to leave Paris before night, to seek the most convenient and hospitable hedge in the environs of the capital. VOLTAIRE. WHEN Voltaire was at the Prussian Court, and peaceably enjoyed the highest admiration and praise that superior talents and wit could ensure, an English gentleman arrived at Berlin, who had so extraordinary a memory that he could repeat a long composition, in prose or verse, if once read or recited to him, without missing a word. The King had the curiosity to put him to the test. The Englishman appeared, and succeeded to the admiration of the whole Court. It happened, that immediately after this trial, Voltaire sent the King word, that, with the King's permission, he should do himself the honour to read to him a poem he had just finished. The King gave him permission to come; but, at the same time, resolved to divert himself at the expense of the poet. He accordingly placed the Englishman behind a screen, and ordered him to pay particular attention to what Voltaire should read. Voltaire came, and read his poem with emphasis, in hopes of obtaining the King's warm approbation. But, to his great disappointment, the King seemed perfectly cold and indifferent to what he was reading. The poem was finished: Voltaire asked the King's opinion of it, and received for answer," That his Majesty had lately observed, that Monsieur Voltaire fathered the works of others, and gave them out for his own. This was a degree of effrontery he should not have thought him capable of, and he could not but be highly displeased at it." Voltaire was astonished. He complained that he was wronged, and declared that he did not deserve the reproach. 'Well, then," said the King, "come forth, Sir, and repeat the verses of which Voltaire pretends to be the author.” 66 The Englishman came forward, and, with great composure, repeated the poem, without missing a single passage. Now," cried the King, are you not obliged to confess that my accusation is founded in truth?"-Heavens !" cried Voltaire, "why sleeps your lightning? why is your vengeance withheld from punishing the crimes of a miscreant who dares to rob me of my laurels? Here sorcery is employed, and I am driven to despair." The King laughed heartily at this scene of poetic fury, and rewarded the Englishman liberally for the amusement he had procured him. DERZHAVIN. "Of all the poets of Russia," says Mr. Bow VOL. 11. K ring, "Derzhavin is, in my opinion, entitled to the very first place. His compositions breathe a high and sublime spirit: they are full of inspiration. His versification is sonorous, original, characteristic; his subjects generally such as allow him to give full scope to his ardent imagination and lofty conceptions. Of modern poets, he most resembles Klopstock. His Oda Bog,'' Ode on God,'-with the exception of some of the wonderful passages of the "Old Testament,' 'written with a pen of fire,' and glowing with the brightness of heaven, passages of which Derzhavin has frequently availed himself, is one of the most impressive and sublime addresses I am acquainted with, on a subject so pre-eminently impressive and sublime. "This is the poem of which Golovnin says, in his narrative, that it has been translated into Japanese, by order of the Emperor, and is hung up, embroidered with gold, in the Temple of Jeddo. It appears from the periodicals, that an honour something similar has been done in China to the same poem. It has been translated into the Chinese and Tartar languages, written on a piece of rich silk, and suspended in the imperial palace at Pekin." The following is the opening of this celebrated poem, admirably translated by Mr. Bowring, in his "Russian Anthology." "GOD. O Thou eternal One! whose presence bright Whom none can comprehend, and none explore! Embracing all,-supporting, ruling o'er,- In its sublime research, philosophy May measure out the ocean-deep,-may count Thou from primeval nothingness didst call Sprung forth from Thee:-of light, joy, harmony, Sole origin :-all life, all beauty thine. |