And with Truth she was never allied;
If she hasn’t yet managed to hurt you,
It can’t be from not having tried!
For the poison of adders is under her tongue,
And you’re lucky indeed, if you’ve never been stung.
Are you statesman, or author, or artist,
With a perfectly blameless career?
Are your talents and wits of the smartest,
And your conscience abnormally clear?
“He’s a saint!” says Dame Rumor, and smiles like the Sphinx.