many years before; and having been struck at that time with the delightful situation of the monastery of St. Justus, belonging to the order of St. Jerome, not many miles distant from that place, he had then observed to some of his atten dants, that this was a spot to which Dioclesian might have retired with pleasure. The impression had remained so strong on his mind, that he pitched upon it as the place of his retreat. 5 It was seated in a vale of no great extent, watered by a small brook, and surrounded by rising grounds, covered with lofty trees. From the nature of the soil, as well as the temperature of the climate, it was esteemed the most healthful and delicious situation in Spain. 6 Some months before his resignation, he had sent an architect thither, to add a new apartment to the monastery, for his accommodation; but he gave strict orders that the style of the building should be such as suited his present station, rather than his former dignity. It consisted only of six rooms, four of them in the form of friar's cells, with naked walls; the other two, each twenty feet square, were hung with brown cloth, and furnished in the most simple manner. They were all on a level with the ground; with a door on one side into a garden, of which Charles himself had given the plan, and had filled it with various plants, which he proposed to cultivate with his own hands. On the other side, they communicated with the chapel of the monastery, in which he was to perform his devotions. 7 Into this humble retreat, hardly sufficient for the comfortable accommodation of a private gentleman, did Charles enter, with twelve domestics only. He buried there, in solitude and silence, his grandeur, his ambition, together with all those vast projects, which, during half a century, had alarmed and agitated Europe; filling every kingdom in it, by turns, with the terrour of his arms, and the dread of being subjected to his power. 8 In this retirement, Charles formed such a plan of life for himself, as would have suited the condition of a private person of a moderate fortune. His table was neat but plain; his domestics few; his intercourse with them familiar; all the cumbersome and ceremonious forms of attendance on his person were entirely abolished, as destructive of that social ease and tranquillity, which he courted, in order to sooth the remainder of his days. As the mildness of the climate, together with his deliverance from the burdens and cares of government, procured him, at first a considerable remission from the acute pain with which he had been long tormented, he enjoyed, perhaps, more complete satisfaction in this humble solitude, than all his grandeur had ever yielded him. 9 The ambitious thoughts and projects which had so long engrossed and disquieted him, were quite effaced from his mind. Far from taking any part in the political transactions of the princes of Europe, he restrained his curiosity even from any inquiry concerning them; and he seemed to view the busy scene which he had abandoned, with all the contempt and indifference arising from his thorough experience of its vanity, as well as from the pleasing reflection of having disentangled himself from its cares. PART II. PIECES IN POETRY. CHAPTER I. DR. ROBERTSON. SELECT SENTENCES AND PARAGRAPHS. SECTION I. SHORT AND EASY SENTENCES. Education. 'TIS education forms the common mind: With pleasure let us own our errours past Secret virtue. The private path, the secret acts of men, Necessary knowledge easily attained. Disappointment. As bees in flow'rs, and stings us with success. The mind that would be happy, must be great; Extended views a narrow mind extend. NOTE. In the first chapter, the Compiler has exhibited a considerable variety of poetical construction, for the young reader's preparatory exercises. Natural and fanciful life. Who lives to nature, rarely can be poor; Charity. In faith and hope the world will disagree; The prize of Virtue. What nothing earthly gives, or can destroy, Sense and modesty connected. Distrustful sense with modest caution speaks; Heav'n gives us friends to bless the present scene, Present blessings undervalued. Hope, of all passions, most befriends us here; Who noble ends by noble means obtains, No radiant pearl, which crested fortune wears, Nor the bright stars, which night's blue arch adorn, VERSES IN WHICH THE LINES ARE OF DIFFERENT LENGTH Bliss of celestial Origin. RESTLESS mortals toil for nought; Bliss in vain from earth is sought; Bliss, a native of the sky, Never wanders. Mortals, try; The Passions. Trust in Providence recommended. 'Tis Providence alone secures, Epitaph. How lov'd, how valu'd once, avails thee not; Fame. All fame is foreign, but of true desert; And more true joy Marcellus exil'd feels, Virtue the guardian of youth. Down the smooth stream of life the strippling darts, But yonder comes the pow'rful king of day, And sheds the shining day, that burnish'd plays Self-government. May I govern my passions with absolute sway; On a mountain, stretch'd beneath a hoary willow, VERSES CONTAINING EXCLAMATIONS, INTERROGATIONS, Competence. A COMPETENCE is all we can enjoy : Can gold gain friendship? Impudence of hope! |