Calumny (A Ballad Of Comfort) Poem by Martin Farquhar Tupper

Never you fear; but go ahead
In self-relying strength:
What matters it, that malice said,
'We've found it out at length!'
Found out? found what? - An honest man
Is open as the light,
So, search as keenly as you can,
You'll only find - all right.

Yes, blot him black with slander's ink,
He stands as white as snow!
You serve him better than you think,
And kinder than you know:
What? is it not some credit, then,
That he provokes your blame?
This merely, with all better men,
Is quite a kind of fame!

Through good report, and ill report,
The good man goes his way,
Nor condescends to pay his court
To what the vile may say:-
Ay, be the scandal what you will,
And whisper what you please,
You do but fan his glory still
By whistling up a breeze.

The little spark becomes a flame
If you won't hold your tongue;
Nobody pays you for your blame,
Nor cares to prove it wrong;
But if you will so kindly aid
And prop a good man's peace,
Why, really one is half afraid
Your ill report should cease!

Look you! two children playing there
With battledores in hand
To keep the shuttle in the air
Must strike it as they stand;
It flags and falls, if both should stop,
To look admiring on,-
And so Fame's shuttlecock would drop
Without a Pro and Con!