Clad in the wealthy robes his genius wrought,
In happy dreams was gentle Shakespeare laid;
His pleased soul wandering through the realms of thought,
While all his elves and fairies round him played.

Voltaire approached: straight fled the quaint-eyed band,
For envious breath such sprites may not endure;
He pilfered many a gem with trembling hand,
Then stabbed and stabbed, to make the theft secure.

Ungrateful man! But vain thy black design,
Th' attempt, and not the deed, thy hand defiled;
Preserved by his own charms and spells divine,
Safely the gentle Shakespeare slept and smiled.