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Eh! qui pourroit sans toi supporter cette vie, De nos pretres menteurs benir l'hypocrisie: D'une indigne maitresse encenser les erreurs, Ramper sous un ministre, adorer ses hauteurs; Et montrer les langueurs de son ame abattue, A des amis ingrats qui detournent la vue?
And yet after this, and after his admission to the Academy, after Henry VIII and the Symphonie avec orgue, he still remained aloof from praise or blame, and judged his triumphs with sad severity: "Tu connaîtras les yeux menteurs, l'hypocrisie Des serrements de mains, Le masque d'amitié cachant la jalousie, Les pâles lendemains
"yeux menteurs, l'hypocrisie Des serrements de mains, La masque d'amitié cachant la jalousie, Les pâles lendemains De ces jours de triomphe"... of which M. Saint-Saëns in his little volume of verse complains somewhat pompously, were unknown to César Franck. For this man, even in the years of his prime, there were only the humiliations, the disappointments that are the lot of uncomprehended genius.
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