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WRITTEN FROM PLOMBIÉRES TO M. PALLU, INTENDANT OF LYONS. - 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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WRITTEN FROM PLOMBIÉRES TO M. PALLU, INTENDANT OF LYONS. - 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]

Edition used:

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).

Author: Voltaire
Translator: William F. Fleming
Notes: Tobias Smollett

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

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WRITTEN FROM PLOMBIÉRES TO M. PALLU, INTENDANT OF LYONS.

From the bottom of that stony cavern I write,
Which lies between two craggy mountains’ vast height;
Where the sky is still black, and with clouds overcast,
And thunders oft burst midst the tempest’s rude blast;
Close to a hot bath, which still boils up and smokes,
Where crowds of the sick are brought wrapped up in cloaks;
Where the splenetic mortal, disordered in brain,
Talks of his disease in the medical strain,
Bathes himself and besmokes, and in hope of a cure,
Can exquisite tortures with patience endure.
From this cavern, where hags in crowds daily repair,
And expect to become once more youthful and fair;
Of virgins a few, a great number who fain,
Their virginity, lost many years, would regain;
Where their health to recover, or led by mere fancy,
Old cits in the stage coach come often from Nancy;
And of Commercy monks, a most numerous train,
Who appear from their manners the sons of Lorraine.
From this place, where languor and spleen still resort,
By letter at Paris I make my report:
Though Phœbus forsakes and inspires me no more,
The aid of the graces and loves I implore;
I will frankly own they scarce know me by sight,
But it is to the learned Pallu that I write:
Alcibiades, too, his injunction has laid,
Who at court so much grace and such talents displayed,
Gay, generous, and brave, but prone still to changing,
From beauty to beauty capriciously ranging;
Who, like Cupid, possesses the dangerous art,
Of seducing by gentle persuasion each heart:
Cured by length of time, or by some serious passion,
Of falsehood, a vice that’s so much in the fashion;
In love he appears to have turned out of late,
A model in every respect quite complete;
Who such an extraordinary change brought about,
Let me guess e’er so long I can never find out;
But illustrious fair one, the power of your eyes
Must surely be great to have won such a prize:
Peradventure some women a choice might have made,
Of a cleverer and more promising blade.
To Hercules liker in sinew and bone,
Like Celadon to the soft passion more prone;
But through the whole world could she ever find
One worthier of love amongst all human kind?
For where, dearest madam, can you e’er hope to meet,
One that’s like him, a friend, both reserved and discreet?
In whom the old courtier’s politeness refined,
With the graces and sprightliness of youth is combined,
Whose converse all mortals must equally please,
With vivacity mixing an elegant ease;
Whose natural vein of true humor and wit,
Must the taste of all ranks and all geniuses fit:
And does he not merit the praise of the nation,
Who after three whole years of negotiation,
That formality proud, and those airs ne’er contracted,
Which envoys assume when affairs are transacted?
In this picture faithful from flattery free,
Must not every eye Alcibiades see?