XXIII.

Our hero (and, I trust, kind reader! yours)

Was left upon his way to the chief city

Of the immortal Peter's polished boors,

Who still have shown themselves more brave than witty.

I know its mighty Empire now allures

Much flattery—even Voltaire's,[495] and that's a pity.

For me, I deem an absolute autocrat

Not a barbarian, but much worse than that.

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