Classic Poem

Le Vilain.

How's this? I hear that people blame
The de that stands before my name!
" Pray, art thou of the old noblesse? "
I noble? no, sirs, I confess.
No — none, for me, of knightly race
The patent did on vellum trace;
To love my country's all I know:
I'm of a breed
That's low indeed,
Yes, low, sirs, very low!

This de — ah! never did I need it;
Since my blood tells, if right I read it,
That my forefathers in their day
Have cursed a master's despot sway.
His power, upon its ancient base,
As 'twere a mill-stone, you may trace —
They were the grain it crushed — and so,
I'm of a breed
That's low indeed,
Yes, low, sirs, very low!

My sires did never on their lands
Vex the poor serf with grasping hands:
Nor in the woods did travellers fear
To find their noble swords were near.
Not one, when tired of his campaign,
Was turned into a chamberlain
Of ... Charlemagne, by Merlin's blow.
I'm of a breed
That's low indeed,
Yes, low, sirs, very low!

Never, when civil broils were rife,
Did my brave sires partake the strife;
Nor was the English Leopard made
Free of our cities by their aid
Not one amongst them signed the League,
What time the Church, by its intrigue,
Essayed the State to overthrow.
I'm of a breed
That's low indeed,
Yes, low, sirs, very low!

Then leave me to my standard, ye —
Nobles by button-hole, I see —
Whose noses sniff the coming gale;
Who every sun — that's rising — hail.
I honor a plebeian tribe,
For I can feel , as well as gibe;
And flatter none but sons of woe:
I'm of a breed
That's low indeed,
Yes, low, sirs, very low!