Classic Poem

the return of the old noblesse into France, with the restored Bourbons gave rise to the following satire

Le Marquis de Carabas.

See this old marquis treating us
 As if a conquered race:
His rawboned steed has brought him back
 From distant hiding-place
With sabre brandished o'er his head
 That never dealt a blow,
The noble mortal marches on,
 And seeks his old chateau
Hats off, hats off, near and far,
Bow to the Marquis of Carabas!

“Almoners, vassals, seneschals,
 And serfs of each degree!
My prince,” he cries, “hath been restored
 By me, and only me:
But if the rights that suit my rank
 From him I may not claim,
Why, zounds, his Majesty must play
 With me a different game!”
Hats off, hats off, near and far,
Bow to the Marquis of Carabas!

“What though a certain miller's name
 Be scandalously known,
Pepin the Short had many a son—
 And one as head we own
The blazon of my coat of arms
 To me conviction brings;
And, faith, I do believe my house
 More noble than the King's!”
Hats off, hats off, near and far,
Bow to the Marquis of Carabas!

“Who'll put me off? the Marchioness
 In presence sits in state:
To Court my youngest son shall go,
 Where bishops they create
My son the Baron, though perchance
 Not overbold he be,
Would dangle crosses at his breast—
 He shall at least have three!”
Hats off, hats off, near and far,
Bow to the Marquis of Carabas!

“In peace let's live, then: but for me
 Taxes they dare propose!
The state is for the noble's good,
 Who nothing to it owes
Thanks to my warlike stores, and thanks
 To my embattled towers,
To teach the Prêfet what to do
 Is not beyond my powers”
Hats off, hats off, near and far,
Bow to the Marquis of Carabas!

“Levy, ye priests whom we avenge,
 Your tithe, and let us share it:
Thine, people, is the feudal yoke—
 Still, beast of burden, bear it!
'Tis for us only to enjoy
 The chase and its delights:
Your pretty tendrils must submit
 To our seignorial rights.”
Hats off, hats off, near and far,
Bow to the Marquis of Carabas!

“Curate, thy duty do; and wave
 For me thy censer high!
You, grooms and pages, thrash the serfs,
 And make the rascals fly!
I from my ancestors received
 These glorious rights of theirs;
Then let them all from my descend
 Unbroken to my heirs”
Hats off, hats off, near and far,
Bow to the Marquis of Carabas!