And will no Frenchman's generous rage
Refute the vile, detested page?
When any make a false report,
All will conspire in its support:
If truth's discovered in the end,
All men are backward to defend.
But will you from the great at court
To objects turn of meaner sort?
Leaving the court, all grandeur's centre,
Into wit's temple let us enter;
That shrine, which always I admired,
To whose view Bardus self aspired,
Where Damis never could repair
Let's enter, see curst envy there,
Daughter of verse, to verse a foe,
Who drawing emulation's bow,
Can pride inflame and rage excite
Amongst fools who for glory write.
See how they're bent to fight till death,
All to secure fame's idle breath;
Upon their rivals they let fall
The blackest and the bitterest gall:
Jansenist eager to devour
Molinist could not blacker pour.
The casuist Doucin n'er so well
Bedaubed famed Pasquier Quesnel.
The old rhymer, whom all men despise,
Organe, impure, of many lies,
That wretch, who all the town offends,
Who punished often, never mends;
That Rufus[1] who your fire befriended,
And from the attacks of want defended,
- ↑ Rousseau.
