Page:Works of Voltaire Volume 36.djvu/46

But whilst this moral beauty we admire,
See on a scaffold Britain's king expire.
Borgia the blade against his brother drew,
And stabbed whilst to his sister's arms he flew.
There the Dutch rabble roused to frantic rage,
Two brothers tear, the worthies of their age.
In France Brinvilliers constant still at prayers,
Poisons her sire, and to confess repairs;
The just is by the wicked's force subdued,
Hence do you virtue but a name conclude?
When with the baleful south wind's tainted breath,
All nature sickens, and each gale is death,
Will you maintain that since the world began,
Health never yet was known to dwell with man.
The various pests that poison human life,
Effects that spring from elemental strife,
Corrupt the bliss of mortals here below,
But quickly vanish both their guilt and woe.
Soon as our passions fierce subside and cool,
Our hearts assent to every moral rule.
The source is pure, the furious winds in vain
Disturb its waves, and rushing torrents stain;
The mud that on its surface flows refines,
And by degrees the watery mirror shines;
The worst man there fierce as the storm before,
His image sees when once its rage is o'er.
The light of reason heaven gave not in vain
To man, but added conscience to restrain.
The springs of sense are moved by her command;
Who hears her voice is sure to understand:
To minds by passion swayed though free before,
She still an equilibrium can restore;