| Samuel Waddington, comp. The Sonnets of Europe. 1888. | | | | The Burial of Molière | | By J. Truffier |
| | Translated by Andrew Lang
DEAD—he is dead! The rouge has left a trace | |
| On that thin cheek where shone, perchance, a tear, | |
| Even while the people laughed that held him dear | |
| But yesterday. He died,—and not in grace, | |
| And many a black-robed caitiff starts apace | 5 |
| To slander him whose Tartuffe made them fear, | |
| And gold must win a passage for his bier, | |
| And bribe the crowd that guards his resting-place. | |
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| Ah, Molière, for that last time of all, | |
| Man’s hatred broke upon thee, and went by, | 10 |
| And did but make more fair thy funeral. | |
| Though in the dark they hid thee stealthily, | |
| Thy coffin had the cope of night for pall, | |
| For torch, the stars along the windy sky! | | | | |
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