great wit, but a little too vain, could never succeed so far as to make the God of Taste entertain the same favorable opinion of Mons. Roger de Rabutin, which the Count de Bussy had of him.
Bussy for pride and self-love famed,
Is by the god severely blamed;
Because too much a slave to fame,
Himself he often made his theme;
His son with every talent graced,
Is always well received by taste;
He flatters none, of none speaks ill,
His conversation pleases still;
He shows that wit and eloquence,
To which his father makes pretence.
Chaulieu, who gay and void of care,
Rising from table sang an air;
Addressed the god-head as a friend,
With freedom which could not offend.
His lively and luxuriant vein
Roves unconfined, nor hears the rein;
His muse disdaining all control,
With native beauties charms the soul.
La Farre, with softness tempering fire,
Tuned to a lower note his lyre,
And poured forth in his mistress' praise,
His incorrect, but sprightly lays;
Which might from ease and pleasure spring,
Though Phœbus had not taught to sing.
There Hamilton, whose darts ne'er fail
To wound, at all mankind did rail;
There St. Aulaire, who for old age,
Surpassed Anacreon, the sage;
