The Fourth Book of Virgil's Aeneid and the Ninth Book of Voltaire's Henriad

THE HENRIAD

CANTO IX

ARGUMENT

Description of the Palace of Love.—Discord implores his aid to bend the unconquerable courage of Henry IV.—Description of Gabrielle d'Etree. Henry, passionately enamoured with her; quits his army, and loses the advantages of his victory at Ivry. Mornay seeks him in his retreat, tears him from the arms of his mistress, and restores him to his army.

      WHERE fam'd Idalia's happy plains extend,      As Europe's bounds begin and Asia's end,      Stands an old palace, long by time rever'd;      The first rude plan the hand of nature rear'd;      But soon, disdaining Nature's simple taste,      Intruding art the modest fabric grac'd.      There vernal breezes fann'd the myrtle shade,      Soft odour breath'd, and beams unclouded play'd.      No tyrant winter e'er despoil'd the grove,      Bid feather'd warblers end the note of love,      Or bound the murm'ring rill in icy chains.      Eternal verdure crown'd the blissful plains;      No labour Earth requir'd, no season knew,      Unbid by man her smiling harvest grew;      Round mellow fruit, the timid blossom twin'd,      Gay Flora's bloom to rich Pomona join'd.      Not wanton Nature when her reign began,      Such blessings lavish'd on her fav'rite man;      The thoughtless joy which from abundance flows,      Days without care, and nights of calm repose:      All to delude the mind, to charm the sense,      All Eden e'er could boast,—but innocence.      Sweet music wafted on the balmy breeze,      Invited languor and voluptuous ease,      While am'rous lays in dulcet note proclaim      The lovers triumph, and the fair one's shame.      There to the laughing god in flow'rs array'd,      The graceful throng their daily homage paid;      There in his temple learn'd the fatal art,      To please, seduce, and captivate the heart.      Young Hope, in flatt'ring smiles for ever gay,      To Love's mysterious altar leads the way:      The graces round, half veil'd and half in sight,      Enticing motion with their voice unite;      While Indolence, luxurious laid along,      Listless and loit'ring, hears the tender song.      There, silent Myst'ry, with the veil she wears,      And eyes conversing with the soul, appears,      Attentive tender cares, attracting smiles,      Gay sport and mirth, and all that thought beguiles.      Lascivious pleasures group'd with wanton ease;      And soft desires that more than pleasure please.      Such the delightful entrance of the dome:      But onward if with guardless step you roam,      And thro' the deep recess audacious pry,      What alter'd scenes of horror strike your eye!      No pleasures form'd in playful groupes invite,      No dulcet sounds the ravish'd ear delight;      No tender cares:– But in their place appear,      Sullen Complaint, and cloy'd Disgust, and Fear;      There, fever'd Jealousy with livid hue,      And falt'ring steps unwinds Suspicion's clew;      Arm'd with the blood-stain'd instruments of death,      There, Rage and Hatred spread their poison'd breath;      While Malice, brooding over secret guile,      Repays their labour with a treach'rous smile;      Remorse, that never sleeps, brings up the rear,      Hates his own deed, and drops a barren tear.      There, Love, capricious child, had chose to reign,      And pains and pleasures were his motely train;      Cruel and kind by turns, but ever blind,      The dear delight, the torment of mankind,      Thro' ev'ry camp, thro' ev'ry senate glides,      Commands the warrior, o'er the judge presides;      Still welcome to the heart, he still deceives,      Pants in each bosom, thro' all nature lives.      High on a throne of endless conquest vain,      Love bids the monarch drag his servile chain;      And glorying less to please, than to destroy,      In scenes of woe exults with savage joy.      Him, Discord sought, by Rage relentless led,      The timid pleasures knew the fiend and fled;      Her eyes were fire, fresh blood her forehead dy'd,      Around she whirl'd her flaming torch, and cry'd:      «Why sleeps my brother o'er the poison'd dart?      His pow'r forgetting o'er the human heart?      Did ever Love the flames of Discord waft,      Or Discord's venom tinge Love's deadly shaft?      Did I for Love, bid madd'ning worlds engage?      Rise then—avenge my insult, serve my rage;      Behold a conqu'ring king my pow'r defy!      Crush'd by his hand, behold my serpents die!      See dove-ey'd Mercy smiling by his side,      Thro' fields of civil rage his faithful guide;      See to his standard ev'ry heart return,      While I my falling empire vainly mourn:      Let him, with her, obtain one conquest more,      Paris is his, and Discord's reign is o'er:      Her smiles will gild the triumph which he gains,      Then what is left for me but hopeless chains!      But Love shall wind this torrent from its course,      And soil his glories in their limpid sourse;      Spite of the virtues which adorn his mind,      In am'rous chains that haughty spirit bind.      Can you forget what heroes once you charm'd,      Whom at her feet fair Omphale disarm'd?      Whose purple sail before Augustus flew,      Who lost the world for Egypt's queen and you?      To these proud trophies Henry's name unite,      Beneath your myrtle all his laurels blight:      You serve yourself, when you my throne maintain,      For Lore and Discord must together reign».      So spoke the monster, and the vault around      Trembling, threw back on Earth the deadly sound.      Love heard, and answ'ring with a doubtful smile,      Where half was sweetness, half insidious guile,      His golden quiver o'er his shoulder threw,      And gliding soft thro' yielding azure flew.      Pleasure, the graces, and unthinking sport,      Born by the Zephyr, were his wanton court.      Pois'd on his even wing, he look'd with joy      On Simois, and the plain where once was Troy;      A smile the triumph of his heart betray'd,      To view the mighty ruin Love had made.      On Venice, long were bent his partial eyes,      Thro' the blue main where gilded domes arise:      Old Neptune saw them pierce the curling wave,      Own'd the audacious conquest,—and forgave.      To fam'd Sicilia next his flight he bends,      Stoops on the purple pinion, and descends      Where he himself inspir'd the Mantuan swain,      And taught Theocritus his tender strain;      There, Fame reports, by ways unknown, he led      The am'rous stream to Arethusa's bed.      Then on the downy sail he sought Vaucluse,      Retreat of Petrarch's love and Petrarch's muse;      Fond Echo yet remember's Laura's name;      And what she gave in love repays in fame.      Eure's winding shores his fond attention draw,      Where Love's own work, Anet's proud dome he saw;      The fretted ceiling, Henry's cypher grac'd,      By Love himself with fair Diana's plac'd.      The graces dropt a crystal tear, and threw      Around her urn fresh roses as they flew.      His wing at length on Ivry's plain he clos'd,      Where Bourbon's thunder for a lime repos'd;      But while the native of the wood he chas'd,      The manly sport war's dreadful image trac'd.      Love spread his chains, and sharp'ning ev'ry dart,      Inhuman pleasure bounded in his heart.      «Arise ye winds,» he cried, «the storm prepare,      Collect the pregnant clouds, and dim the air;      The hanging torrent from their bosom pour,      Bid forked lightening fly, and thunders roar».      Too soon the blust'ring slaves his will obey'd      Their dusky pinions spread a moving shade;    } O'er the bright scene, dark low'ring mist they drove,    } The languid beam with night usurping strove,    } Pale Nature wept the change and knew the work of Love.      Benighted and alone, the king pursu'd      A light that glimmer'd thro' the distant wood:      Love whirl'd his torch, and cast the treach'rous ray,      Like earth-born vapours glitt'ring to betray:      Which lead the trav'ller to the fatal brink,      Then leave him to his wretched doom and link.      Fate so decreed it—in this lonely spot,      Retreat and calm, a noble fair one sought;      Far from the tumult of contending arms,      A solitary castle hid her charms,      Her tender form from all mankind conceal'd,      While war detain'd her father in the field.      But while his sov'reign's toil the vet'ren shar'd,      His lovely child the fost'ring graces rear'd.      D'Etree (that name the favour'd mortal bore),      Of ev'ry, charm exhausted Nature's store.      Not on Eurota's bank, so beauteous shone      The faithless partner of the Spartan throne;      Not she who conquer'd, whom the world obey'd,      On Cydnus when in pomp of charms array'd,      Mortals deceiv'd, in awful rapture gaz'd,      And incense to the present goddess blaz'd.      Scarce had she gain'd the charming dang'rous years,      A pow'r too sure, when rising passion bears.      Pure as heav'ns image in the crystal deep,      Ere clouds arise, when wanton zephyrs sleep,      Her breast for love and gen'rous feeling form'd,      No sigh had heav'd, no tender passion warm'd.      In vain the treasures of the budding rose,      From am'rous gales their modest folds enclose;      As vernal suns each timid charm display,      They yield, and blushing, own the genial ray.      Love, treacherous god, still fertile in deceit,      Long sought the maid, yet seem'd by chance to meet.      A shepherd's boy he came, in outward shew,      His back no quiver bore, his hand no bow:      Careless he cried,—but so that she might hear,      «See Ivry's hero thro' our grove appear!      See Henry comes!» The voice of Love conveys      A secret wish to see him, and to please:      A conscious blush diffus'd a livelier hue,      Love felt the charm, and glory'd in the view.      Sure of his triumph with such beauty's aid,      Full in the monarch's sight he plac'd the maid.      Around her dress he threw that careless air,      It seem'd what Nature's self would choose to wear;      Her auburn locks in easy tresses play'd,      Now hid her snowy neck, and now betray'd;      No muse can paint what playful zephyr show'd,      Nor tell the charm that modesty bestow'd:      Not the stiff airs that prudish virtue arm,      The foes of love, the bane of ev'ry charm:      Sweet, bashful grace, that bends the timid eye,      Spreads o'er the glowing cheek a heav'nly dye,      With soft respect extatic rapture blends,      And heavn's pure bliss to Love triumphant lends.      But Love does more: for Love what pow'r can bound?      A charm invincible he calls around,      Their tender boughs enchanted myrtles spread,      Rise thro' the earth and wave their taper head:      Deluded mortals seek the tempting shades,      The secret charm their languid sense invades,      Around, a stream in lulling manner flows,      Of deep forgetfulness, of soft repose;      Bound in the chain no more they seek to move;      Fame, honor, duty, what are you to Love?      Here all alike the sweet delusion share,      And breathe delicious poison with the air.      All whispers love, the birds on ev'ry spray      Prolong the kiss, and swell the am'rous lay;      The hardy swain, who with the peep of dawn,      Jocund and careless sought the russet lawn,      Heaves as he goes involuntary sighs;      Unusual troubles in his breast arise,      Beat in his pulse, his loit'ring feet retain;      Neglected lye the treasures of the plain:      The same soft charm the trembling maid deceives,      The herd forgot, the sheaf unbound she leaves.      How could d'Etree with such a pow'r contest!      A god invincible her soul possest.      In vain, alas! that fatal day she strove,      With youth, with glory, with her heart and love.      In rain a rising voice in Henry's breast,      Back to his ranks the love-lost hero prest;      A pow'r unseen repell'd the gen'rous thought,      His virtue vainly in himself he sought;      His soul empassion'd, deaf to honor's call,      Could hear but love, d'Etree possess'd it all.      Meanwhile his chiefs, impatient on the plain,      His absence mourn'd, and sought their king in vain;      A thousand dangers for his life appear'd,      For Henry's fame what danger could be fear'd?      No hope of victory the troops inspir'd,      Lost was their ardor when their chief retir'd.      Still the good genius of the realm was near,      To cheer their courage, to dispel their fear.      Summon'd by Lewis, from the realm of light      Downward the spirit shap'd his rapid flight,      Around this earthly planet cast his eyes,      To find below a mortal truly wise.      Not in the noisy school, or silent cell      Where pray'r, and meagre fast, and study dwell;      Amid the tumult of the martial train,      With rest and conquest flush'd, on Ivry's plain,      Where Calvin's banners to the sky were rear'd,      The man he sought, the real sage appear'd:      Mornay was he.—Heav'n form'd the man, to show      That Reason's light may guide us here below;      Plato her voice, and good Aurelius heard,      She led the Pagan right, when Christian's err'd.      Such modest candour temper'd manly sense,      When Mornay censur'd, none could take offense;      For truth by him, in winning form convey'd,      Was but the virtue which his life display'd.      Still lean'd his heart the faults of men to bear,      While reason told him, all men had their share;      But mid surrounding vices ever pure,      Nor ease nor pleasure could his soul allure.      As thro' the bosom of the briny tide,      Thy limpid waters Arethusa glide,      And yet unsully'd by the neighb'ring deep,      Unmix'd and pure their spotless tenor keep.      By friendship guided, gen'rous Mornay came      Where loiter'd Henry, mindless of his fame;      The artful god prolong'd the am'rous trance,      And in her hero rul'd the fate of France.      No sameness there the varied bliss destroy'd,      No languor chill'd, no forward pleasure cloy'd;      Each wish attain'd, another wish inspires;      Each new enjoyment led to new desires:      Such vary'd ways to please, love taught d'Etree,      Nor time nor habit stole one charm away.      The god with anger blushing as he view'd      Mornay and wisdom on his reign intrude:      Turn'd with revengeful instinct to his dart,      And aim'd the deadly shaft at Mornay's heart.      His anger and his arms the sage defy'd,      His breast the bounding arrow turn'd aside:      Impatient for the monarch's lonely hour,      He rov'd indignant thro' th' enchanted bow'r.      Where silver streams a myrtle grove inclose,      The veil that timid love and mystry chose,      With all her charms d'Etree her lover blest:      Now flames consume, now languor fills his breast;      Soft drops of pleasure glisten'd in their eyes,      Voluptuous tear that love knows how to prize;      No coy reserve the burning bliss restrain'd,      Fond passion, prodigal of pleasure, reign'd;      While Love's mute eloquence their lips employ,      Short sighs and gentle murmurs speak their joy:      Their panting hearts with glowing transport swell,      Which love alone inspires, alone can tell.      Young pleasures sporting in luxurious ease,      And infant Cupid's on his amour seize;      Some dragg'd the bloody cuirass o'er the ground,      Or from his thigh, the pond'rous blade unbound;      Some from the casque the crystal torrent pour'd,      To wash the crimson spot that stain'd the sword,      And laugh as in their feeble hand they wield      The crown's support, the terror of the field.      Discord, who view'd him with insulting spite,      In savage accents utter'd fierce delight;      Rous'd up the league, the happy moment prest,      Reviv'd her serpents drooping in her breast;      And while the monarch languished in repose,      Blew the shrill blast, that gathered all his foes.      A conscious blush on Henry's forehead glow'd      As Mornay met him in the soft abode:      Silent at first, the mutual look they fear'd,      But in that silence all the mind appear'd:      And Mornay's eye to Henry's soul convey'd,      How wide from virtue and from fame he stray'd.      The gentlest touch of blame we scarce endure,      How oft we loose the friend we mean to cure;      But Henry thus:—«My friend, be ever dear,      Who speaks of virtue most be welcome here;      Come to my heart, which yet for glory burns;      My fame, my spirit, with my friend returns;      Away the sweets of vile ignoble rest!      The soft delusion which my soul possest!      Far be the slave enamour'd of his chains;      The last great conquest o'er myself remains:      Glory beams forth—and love no more shall sway.      The blood of Spain shall wash the stain away».      «There», Mornay cried,« the monarch's voice I own;      There spoke the guardian of the Gallic throne:      Love thus subdu'd, adds lustre to your state;      Blest who ne'er feels it,—but who conquers, great».      As Henry's lip pronounc'd the last forewel,      What advers passions in his soul rebel?      Full of the beauty he adores and flies,      He blames the tear, yet tears still fill his eyes:      Now Mornay calls, now tender love retains;      He goes, returns, and going still remains:      But when she languish'd in his last embrace,      Colour and life forsook her lovely face,      A sudden night obsur'd her radiant eyes:      The God beheld—air echo'd with his cries;      He trembled that the envious shades of night      Should rob his empire of a nymph so bright,      And quench for ever 'mid th' unfeeling dead,      The flame those heav'nly eyes were form'd to spread;      He prest the drooping beauty in his arms;      With gentle sound recall'd her faded charms;      Her eyes half open'd, sought her love in vain,      His name she sigh'd, and dropp'd their lids again.      To life, to love, the god recall'd the fair,      And bid young Hope repeat the tender pray'r.      But Mornay's soul, nor grief, nor beauty move,      Virtue and glory triumph over love:      The vanquish'd God, with sullen shame withdrew,      And far from Anet's domes indignant flew.FINIS