lding at
Claremont. Monsieur de Nivernois, who had been absorbed all day, and
lagging behind, translating my verses, was delivered of his version, and
of some more lines which he wrote on Miss Pelham in the Belvidere, while
we drank tea and coffee. From thence we passed into the wood, and the
ladies formed a circle on chairs before the mouth of the cave, which was
overhung to a vast height with woodbines, lilacs, and laburnums, and
dignified by the tall shapely cypresses. On the descent of the hill were
placed the French horns; the abigails, servants, and neighbours
wandering below by the river; in short, it was Parnassus, as Watteau
would have painted it. Here we had a rural syllabub, and part of the
company returned to town; but were replaced by Giardini and Onofrio, who
with Nivernois on the violin, and Lord Pembroke on the bass, accompanied
Miss Pelham, Lady Rockingham, and the Duchess of Grafton, who sang. This
little concert lasted till past ten; then there were minuets, and as we
had seven couple left, it concluded with a country dance. I blush again,
for I danced, but was kept in countenance by Nivernois, who has one
wrinkle more than I have. A quarter after twelve they sat down to
supper, and I came home by a charming moonlight. I am going to dine in
town, and to a great ball with fireworks at Miss Chudleigh's, but I
return hither on Sunday, to bid adieu to this abominable Arcadian life;
for really when one is not young, one ought to do nothing but
_s'ennuyer_; I will try, but I always go about it awkwardly. Adieu!

[Footnote 1: "_Esher._" Claremont, at Esher, now the property of the
Queen, and residence of the Duchess of Albany, at this time belonged to
the Duke of Newcastle, Miss Pelham's uncle.]

[Footnote 2: Kent was the great landscape gardener of the last
generation.]

P.S.--I enclose a copy of both the English and French verses.

A MADAME DE BOUFFLERS.

Boufflers, qu'embellissent les graces,
Et qui plairoit sans le vouloir,
Elle a qui l'amour du scavoir
Fit braver le Nord et les glaces;
Boufflers se plait en nos vergers,
Et veut a nos sons etrangers
Plier sa voix enchanteresse.
Repetons son nom mille fois,
Sur tous les coeurs Boufflers aura des droits,
Par tout ou la rime et la Presse
A l'amour preteront leur voix.

A MADAME D'USSON.

Ne feignez point, Iris, de ne pas nous entendre;
Ce que vous inspirez, en Grec doit se comprendre.