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TO THE COUNTESS OF FONTAINE-MARTEL. * - The Works of Voltaire, Vol. X The Dramatic Works Part 1 (Zaire, Caesar, The Prodigal, Prefaces) and Part II (The Lisbon Earthquake and Other Poems).

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TO THE COUNTESS OF FONTAINE-MARTEL. * - Voltaire, The Works of Voltaire, Vol. X The Dramatic Works Part 1 (Zaire, Caesar, The Prodigal, Prefaces) and Part II (The Lisbon Earthquake and Other Poems). [1901]

Edition used:

From The Works of Voltaire, A Contemporary Version, (New York: E.R. DuMont, 1901), A Critique and Biography by John Morley, notes by Tobias Smollett, trans. William F. Fleming. Vol. X The Dramatic Works Part 1 (Zaire, Caesar, The Prodigal, Prefaces) and Part II (The Lisbon Earthquake and Other Poems).

Author: Voltaire
Translator: William F. Fleming
Notes: Tobias Smollett

Part of: The Works of Voltaire. A Contemporary Version, in 21 vols.

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TO THE COUNTESS OF FONTAINE-MARTEL.*

Fair Martel you must ever seem
Worthy of most profound esteem;
’Tis at the suppers which you give,
I justly may be said to live;
For there I cannot ever miss
Pleasure, the only real bliss:
Sometimes I scold you, I must own,
But for that freedom still atone:
When I above the sex extol,
And own that you are worth them all;
In you a sight most rare we see,
A woman from all foibles free;
You by the charms of wit engage,
And reason like an ancient sage:
Your wisdom’s not that harpy dire,
Whom rancor and fell rage inspire.
Envy’s sad sister, that with eyes
Malignant, into all things pries:
Who like a hag with ceaseless rage,
Rails at the pleasures of the age.
But that blessed wisdom, which with ease
The humors of all men can please,
Which makes life’s every moment charm,
And of its darts can death disarm.
On all sides, madam, you behold
Beauties, when ugly grown and old,
Because by lovers they’re neglected,
Turn saints at last to be respected.
But you more knowing, justly shun
The error into which they run;
You don’t in vigils pass the night,
In cheerful suppers you delight,
The pleasing follies of the muse,
Instead of casuists you peruse,
And in the place of monk, elect
Voltaire your conscience to direct;
Preferring still, as foe to care,
The opera house to house of prayer;
But that which makes my bliss complete,
With you, blessed freedom, seeks retreat,
That goddess bright, whose brow serene,
And lively eyes all hearts must gain,
Whom gestures free, and easy air,
Nor prude, nor yet coquette declare;
Decent, but not at all demure,
That can a double sense endure,
And hear those words without a frown,
Which make severer dames look down.
Her sister goddess blithe as fair,
Heart-easing mirth inhabits there,
Mirth, who in repartee delights,
Whose satire pleases, never bites,
Who sometimes into ridicule,
May turn a blockhead, or a fool,
And makes the wise in proper place,
Relax the muscles of his face.
On you may heaven its gifts bestow,
And make completely blessed below.
One who even in her life’s decline,
Does others in its spring outshine.

[* ] Written in the year 1732.