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Front Page arrow Titles (by Subject) arrow TO HER ROYAL HIGHNESS, THE PRINCESS OF ***. - The Works of Voltaire, Vol. X The Dramatic Works Part 1 (Zaire, Caesar, The Prodigal, Prefaces) and Part II (The Lisbon Earthquake and Other Poems).

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TO HER ROYAL HIGHNESS, THE PRINCESS OF ***. - Voltaire, The Works of Voltaire, Vol. X The Dramatic Works Part 1 (Zaire, Caesar, The Prodigal, Prefaces) and Part II (The Lisbon Earthquake and Other Poems). [1901]

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From The Works of Voltaire, A Contemporary Version, (New York: E.R. DuMont, 1901), A Critique and Biography by John Morley, notes by Tobias Smollett, trans. William F. Fleming. Vol. X The Dramatic Works Part 1 (Zaire, Caesar, The Prodigal, Prefaces) and Part II (The Lisbon Earthquake and Other Poems).

Part of: The Works of Voltaire. A Contemporary Version, in 21 vols.

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TO HER ROYAL HIGHNESS, THE PRINCESS OF ***.

    • A beauteous princess often may
    • Languish in pleasure’s season gay;
    • The empty forms of haughty state
    • Oft make life tedious to the great.
    • It must the greatest king confound,
    • With all his courtiers circled round,
    • Amidst a splendid court to find,
    • That grandeur can’t give peace of mind.
    • Some think that play can give delight,
    • But soon it grows insipid quite;
    • And monarchs have been often seen,
    • While gaming, tortured with the spleen.
    • A king oft feasts with heavy heart,
    • Pleasures to him no joy impart;
    • While the dull vulgar contemplate,
    • Like gazing idiots, pomp and state,
    • And fondly think who is possessed
    • Of them with bliss supreme is blessed.
    • Soon as the sun’s refulgent rays,
    • Spread o’er the hemisphere their blaze;
    • The king begins another day,
    • Yet knows not where to take his way:
    • Tired of himself he straight repairs
    • To company, to soothe his cares.
    • But pleasure flies from his embrace,
    • It rises not from change of place;
    • This day’s insipid as the last,
    • At night he knows not how it passed.
    • Time’s loss is not to be repaired,
    • Life’s to an instant well compared;
    • What, when life posts away so fast,
    • Can days appear so long to last?
    • Princess, whose worth above thy age,
    • All hearts at two courts can engage;
    • You usefully that time employ,
    • By youth consumed in rapid joy.
    • The genius given by heaven benign,
    • You strive to polish and refine,
    • By studies which at once unite
    • Instructions solid, with delight.
    • ’Tis best the mind should be employed,
    • Indolence leaves a craving void;
    • The soul is like a subtile fire,
    • Which if not fed must soon expire.