rtheless looked upon as a
masterpiece. To understand this copy of verses you are to know that the
day Oliver died was remarkable for a great storm. His poem begins in
this manner:--

"Il n'est plus, s'en est fait, soumettons nous au sort,
Le ciel a signale ce jour par des tempetes,
Et la voix des tonnerres eclatant sur nos tetes
Vient d'annoncer sa mort.

"Par ses derniers soupirs il ebranle cet ile;
Cet ile que son bras fit trembler tant de fois,
Quand dans le cours de ses exploits,
Il brisoit la tete des Rois,
Et soumettoit un peuple a son joug seul docile.

"Mer tu t'en es trouble; O mer tes flots emus
Semblent dire en grondant aux plus lointains rivages
Que l'effroi de la terre et ton maitre n'est plus.

"Tel au ciel autrefois s'envola Romulus,
Tel il quitta la Terre, au milieu des orages,
Tel d'un peuple guerrier il recut les homages;
Obei dans sa vie, sa mort adore,
Son palais fut un Temple," &c.

* * * * *

"We must resign! heaven his great soul does claim
In storms as loud as his immortal fame;
His dying groans, his last breath shakes our isle,
And trees uncut fall for his funeral pile:
About his palace their broad roots are tost
Into the air; so Romulus was lost!
New Rome in such a tempest missed her king,
And from obeying fell to worshipping.
On OEta's top thus Hercules lay dead,
With ruined oaks and pines about him spread.
Nature herself took notice of his death,
And, sighing, swelled the sea with such a breath,
That to remotest shores the billows rolled,
Th' approaching fate of his great ruler told."

WALLER.

It was this elogium that gave occasion to the reply (taken notice of in
Bayle's Dictionary), which Waller made to King Charles II. This king, to
whom Waller had a little before (as is usual with bards and monarchs)
presented a copy of verses embroidered with praises, reproached the poet
for not writing with so much energy and fire as when he had applauded the
Usurper (meaning Oliver). "Sir," replied Waller to the king, "we poets
succeed better in fiction than in truth." This answer was not so sincere
as that which a Dutch ambassador made, who, when the same monarch
complained that his masters paid less regard to him than they had done to
Cromwell. "Ah, sir!" says the Ambassador, "Oliver was quite another
man--" It is not my intent to give a commentary on Waller's character,
nor on t