Library of the World's Best Literature, Ancient and Modern

Let naught annoy thee:
The burdens of fame,
The manifold perils
That wait on a name.

Content thyself, baby,
With learning to read:
Don't be vainglorious;
That's all thou canst need.

All promptings of genius
Confine in thy breast,
If thou wouldst, baby,
Expire well dressed....

Let not God nor Devil
Concern thy poor wits,
And tell no more truth
Than politeness permits.

With thy soul and thy body,
Still worship the Real;
Nor ever attempt
To pursue the Ideal.

As for thy scruples,
Let them be suppressed,
If thou wouldst, baby,
Expire well dressed.

Translated for 'A Library of the World's Best Literature.'

[The monarch satirized in this poem was Francesco IV., Duke of Modena, a petty Nero, who executed not a few of the Italian patriots of 1831.]