Après Nous Le Déluge.

The angels wept at the poor man’s pleading,1
But what should Louis the Much-loved care ?2
Such cries might seek in heaven for heeding,3
But never be heard in the Parc-au-Cerfs.4
The ‘ ancien régime’ could say, and truly,5
For us, at least, the world is good,6
And when our course is run out duly,7
Why then, if it please, may come the flood.’8
And though the deluge each hour waxed stronger,9
They kept it off, did that old noblesse,10
Till they went their ways where they cared no longer11
For dice or women, for drink or dress.12
And what if their coffins for shot were melted,13
And their corpses trod in the Carmagnole ?14
Their dry bones crumbled and never felt it,15
Their spirits slept through the muskets’ roll.16