befide myself, that, in my own eyes, I appear more worthy of your friendship than ever. You cannot conceive how different I am from what you knew me in England. I was then young and thoughtlefs; now I devote myself wholly to polite literature, and the great ob jects of my ambition are virtue, fame, and, above all, your friendship; objects than which nothing can be more divine, estimable, or dear to me. That I may not altogether write an unlettered letter, I fend you a Greek verfion of an English epigram. It was composed in a calm night, by a friend of mine, and I tranflated it at his requeft. I think it will please you, as it appears to have an affinity to the ftyle of Meleager, and other poets in the Anthologia *.

To Lady SPENCER.

Nice, April 14th, 1770.

It is with great pleasure,

that I acquaint your Ladyship, that Mrs,

* Sir William Jones's Works, vol. v.-In the original, Mr. Jones indulges himself with a play on words, which cannot be imitated in the translation,

Poyntz, Lady Harriet, and her brother, are perfectly well; Mrs. Poyntz goes this morning to Villa Franca; I am to be her knight, and am just equipped to mount my Rofinantè; Mademoiselle Annette is to go upon Lady Mary Somerset's afs; fo we shall make a formidable proceffion. It is a delightful morning, and I hope Mrs. Poyntz will be pleased with her jaunt. We have had very bad weather, violent rains, and ftorms of thunder in the night, a close, fultry heat all day, and a very sharp cold every evening; but the spring feems now to be pretty well settled; and I fancy we shall have a continually clear sky, and a mild air, as long as we stay. We all promise ourselves great pleasure in our journey homewards; and we have great reason to believe it will be enchantingly pleafant. I have every day more and more reafon to be pleased with the unfolding of my pupil's difpofition: your Ladyfhip will perhaps think these to be words of course, and what you might naturally expect from any other person in my fituation; but, believe

me, I fay them upon no other motive than their truth; for if it were my nature to speak to any one what I do not think, I fhould at

least speak truly to your Ladyship, of whom

I

am, with the greatest truth,

The obliged and grateful

humble fervant,

WILLIAM JONES.

To Lady SPENCER.

Paris, 4th June, 1770.

Your Ladyship will be fur

prised at receiving fuch a parcel of papers from me but I am willing to make amends for not writing all laft month. The truth is, I had nothing particular to fay at that time; but on my arrival at Paris, I found a letter from my friend Reviczki, with a very spirited ode compofed by him upon the marriage of the Archduchess. I dare fay Lord Spencer will like it, and I therefore take the liberty to inclofe it for him. I have marked in this manner two or three paffages that are faul

ty; and I have put this fign

that I do not quite understand.

to one stanza

I have also

fent with it the Baron's letter to me, which will ferve as a comment upon many parts of the ode. You will have heard of the fhocking accidents that happened here the night of the fire-works. Above one hundred and thirty people were killed; and several people of fashion were crushed to death in their carriages. We had the good fortune to arrive here two days after this dreadful catastrophe; which perhaps has faved fome of us, if not from real danger, at least from the apprehenfion of it. We fhall not be forry to fee England again, and hope to have that pleasure very foon. Soon after my return, I think of going to Oxford for a fhort time but if Lord Althorp goes back to fchool this fummer, as I fincerely hope he will, I fhall not go to College till Auguft; for I am convinced that a public school has already been, and will continue to be, of the highest advantage to him in every respect. While Mrs. Poyntz ftaid at Lyons, I made

an excurfion to Geneva, in hopes of seeing Voltaire, but was disappointed. I fent him a note with a few verses, implying that the mufe of tragedy had left her ancient feat in Greece and Italy, and had fixed her abode on the borders of a lake, &c. He returned this answer: "The worst of French poets "and philofophers is almost dying; age and "fickness have brought him to his last day; " he can converse with nobody, and entreats "Mr. Jones to excufe and pity him. He "presents him with his humble respects." But he was not fo ill as he imagined; for he had been walking in his court, and went into his house just as I came to it. The fervants fhewed me fomebody at a window, whom they said was he; but I had scarce a glimpse of him. I am inclined to think that Voltaire begins to be rather ferious, when he finds himself upon the brink of eternity; and that he refuses to fee company, because he cannot display his former wit and sprightliness. I

find my

book* is published; I am not at all

* Translation of the Life of Nadir Shah.