Page:Works of Voltaire Volume 16.djvu/42

 26 And ranking with the meanest of the throng? How little then in fortune or in fame!

Thus low and grovelling souls like thine pretend To judge of merit, whilst in fortune’s scale Ye weigh the worth of men: proud, empty being, Dost thou not know that the poor worm which crawls Low on the earth, and the imperial eagle That soars to heaven, in the all-seeing eye Of their eternal Maker are the same, And shrink to nothing? men are equal all; From virtue only true distinction springs, And not from birth: there are exalted spirits Who claim respect and honor from themselves And not their ancestors: these, these, my lord, Are heaven’s peculiar care, and such is he Whom I obey, and who alone deserves To be a master; all mankind like me Shall one day fall before the conqueror’s feet, And future ages follow my example.

Omar, I know thee well; thy artful hand In vain hath drawn the visionary portrait; Thou mayest deceive the multitude, but know, What Mecca worships Zopir can despise: Be honest then, and with the impartial eye Of reason look on Mahomet; behold him But as a mortal, and consider well By what base arts the vile impostor rose, A camel-driver, a poor abject slave, Who first deceived a fond, believing woman, And now supported by an idle dream Draws in the weak and credulous multitude: