Page:Works of Voltaire Volume 36.djvu/116

Whose serpent sting soon after bored
The bosom that had life restored;
The wicked Rufus, who in court
Made against innocence report;
Who would have hid had he been wise,
His guilt and shame from mortal eyes,
We see at Brussels Marshes strive
The flame of discord to revive:
He strives on me to throw the shame
Which must forever brand his name.
What will that satire then avail,
With which he dares the world assail,
Pieces in French and German wrote,
Wherein he apes the old Marot,
In which his vices all are seen,
So dull they almost give the spleen.
What great effect then do we see
From all those heaps of calumny?
Subjected to all mortals' hate,
He to his poisons owes his fate.
Let us not fear the slanderer's strain;
Boileau lashed famed Quinault in vain,
Quinault, whose beauties charmed his age,
Laughs at, whilst he forgives his rage.
I, whom a cursed cad would blast,
And foul aspersions on me cast,
In spite of bigots live at ease,
Both court and town my verses please.
From all this what shall we conclude?
Ye French, censorious, though not rude,
Severe, although polite and kind,
Amongst you must we ever find