Some have commended ridicule, counting it the test of truth,
But neither wittily nor wisely; for truth must prove ridicule:
Otherwise a blunt bulrush is to pierce the proof armour of argument,
Because the stolidity of ignorance took it for a barbed shaft.
Softer is the hide of the rhinoceros, than the heart of deriding unbelief,
And truth is idler there, than the Bushman's feathered reed:
A droll conceit parrieth a thrust, that should have hit the conscience,
And the leering looks of humour tickle the childish mind;
For that the matter of a man is mingled most with folly,
Neither can he long endure the searching gaze of wisdom.