mm 
 
Glass - 
 
 Book- - 
 
LOU ISE 
 
LOUISE. 
 
 A POEM IN SIX CANTOS. 
 
 3±Q 
 
 &03 
 
 ILLUSTRATED. 
 
 LONDON : 
 PRINTED FOR PRIVATE CIRCULATION, BY 
 
 EDWARD MOXON & CO. 
 
 1866. 
 

 Xf-J-IHI 
 
 ii 
 
^M±< ____ 
 
LOUISE. 
 
 CANTO I. 
 
 " Thro' weary years, so cold, so dark, 
 
 My glance goes back — 
 And nought but wither'd roses mark 
 
 My life's lone track. 
 All sharp and thick their thorns appear, 
 And each bears on its point a tear." 
 
 VlVALDO. 
 
 Tis o'er ; the Convent gates are closed, 
 
 The courtly throng is gone, 
 
 And I am left to solitude — 
 
 I and my grief alone. 
 
 These prison walls, these ghost-like shapes, 
 
LOUISE, 
 
 And cell so dark and drear, 
 
 This, this is then the end of all 
 
 That once made life so dear. 
 
 I hear the last, sad signal given, 
 
 The tolling Convent bell, 
 
 That I, henceforth, in penitence 
 
 For evermore must dwell. 
 
 Shall I obtain the rest I seek, 
 
 Here from the world afar, 
 
 Buried from all its hopes and fears 
 
 Where holy women are ? 
 
 Oh ! vainly fall despairing tears, 
 
 While mourning o'er my sin ; 
 
 Nor years of penance may suffice 
 
 To purge the stains within. 
 
 How Memory brings back to me 
 Times that are past and gone, 
 The sweet, bright hopes of early days, 
 When life and joy were one. 
 
CANTO I. 
 
 Myself I see, a pensive child, 
 
 In verdant gardens play, 
 
 Or wandering thro' the forests wide 
 
 That round our Castle lay. 
 
 My mother walk'd beside me there, 
 And her kind lessons gave ; — 
 Ah, could she then have laid her child 
 Low in her sinless grave ! 
 'Twas her delight, the deeds to tell 
 Of my dead father's worth ; — 
 Now, would that father curse the day 
 That gave his daughter birth. 
 My gallant brother listened too, 
 Proud of his father's fame ; — 
 Sullied that name of honor, now, 
 By his sad sister's shame. 
 
 Thus in sweet peace and innocence 
 My happy childhood pass'd, 
 
LOUISE. 
 
 Till the false world's alluring scenes 
 
 Broke through that peace at last. 
 
 The marriage of our youthful King, 
 
 And the gay Duke, his brother, 
 
 Brought joy to all his subjects true, 
 
 To us, and to our mother. 
 
 Garlands upon our Castle walls 
 
 And battlements were hung ; 
 
 Fair banners with La Valliere's crest 
 
 From turrets waving flung, 
 
 That day, on which His Majesty 
 
 With Court and regal train 
 
 Pass'd, on his way to meet his bride, 
 
 The young Princess of Spain. 
 
 The gay procession bent its course 
 
 Close by our Castle gate, 
 
 And there, the Marquise with her son 
 
 Their King's approach await. 
 
 My mother vainly bade me forth 
 
 With them our Sovereigns greet ; 
 
CANTO I. 
 
 I was too timid, far, the throng 
 
 Of royal guests to meet. 
 
 Back, in a niche of that old gate, 
 
 I, trembling, took my stand, 
 
 And scarce could hold the loyal wreaths, 
 
 Of lilies, in my hand. 
 
 At length, the martial music notes 
 
 In triumph loud and clear, 
 
 And shouts from the glad multitude, 
 
 Proclaim the Monarch near. 
 
 On milk-white courser proudly borne, 
 
 Star of that princely ring ; 
 
 Mid all his knights and nobles, there 
 
 Appeared our gracious King ; 
 
 His brow, in graceful courtesy, 
 
 Baring to all, he came : 
 
 " Long live the King ! " reverberant 
 
 The echoes sound his name. 
 
 Upon that matchless form was bent 
 
 My fascinated gaze, 
 
LOUISE. 
 
 His glorious countenance defied 
 My feeble powers to praise. 
 
 He paused— I saw my brother step 
 Forth mid the nobles all, 
 To proffer hospitality 
 Within our ancient hall. 
 The King declined with courteous thanks, 
 "He must perforce advance 
 And to the frontier haste, to meet 
 The Infanta, Queen of France/' 
 He pass'd. The Queen his mother came ; 
 Still shouts of welcome burst, 
 While I, of all that glittering train, 
 Saw but one form — the First. 
 The Duke of Orleans and his suite, 
 The Princes of the blood, 
 Swept like a rapid vision by 
 Where, still entranced, I stood. 
 I started from my dream, to find 
 
CANTO T. 7 
 
 Vanished that pageant proud ; 
 
 And fast dispersing to their homes 
 
 The pleased, admiring crowd. 
 
 Pensive I join'd my mother's guests, — 
 
 Her child — yet not the same 
 
 Glad thoughtless maid that left her side 
 
 Ere the young Monarch came. 
 
 Before me rose the image still 
 
 In the soft summer air, 
 
 Of one, above all mortals placed, 
 
 So stately, yet so fair. 
 
 Time pass'd — we heard proclaim'd at length 
 The nuptial bands were tied ■ 
 And Louis, to his Capital, 
 Led back his royal bride. 
 The Queen and Cardinal combined 
 Had form'd that match of state ; 
 Alas for kings ! that policy 
 Must holiest vows dictate. 
 
LOUISE. 
 
 The Duke of Orleans' marriage soon 
 
 Succeeded this, and brought 
 
 King Charles of England's sister fair 
 
 To grace his brother s Court. 
 
 The household of each royal bride 
 
 To form with strictest care, 
 
 And from the noblest families 
 
 Select their daughters fair, 
 
 Became the grave Queen Mother's charge, 
 
 Their maids of honor choose ; — 
 
 With hope beat many a youthful heart 
 
 As spread the welcome news. 
 
 One eve my mother summoned me, 
 She gently spoke, and smiled : 
 "A fair appointment at the Court 
 For thee, Louise, my child, 
 Is in this royal letter sent ; 
 A maid of honor, thou, 
 To our young Duke's fair English bride— 
 
CANTO I. 
 
 What says my daughter now?" 
 
 A thrill of rapture thro' my frame 
 
 At these glad tidings rush'd ; 
 
 I felt myself a woman then, 
 
 With my new honors flushed. 
 
 " O mother ! may I go ? " I cried, 
 
 " The royal lady serve ; 
 
 And I will strive, unceasingly, 
 
 Her favor to deserve." 
 
 My mother sigh'd — " What ! thou, Louise 
 
 My tender, gentle one, 
 
 Anxious to take thy place at Court, 
 
 And willing to be gone? 
 
 Yet thou art right, in truth, and I 
 
 Accept the unsought grace — 
 
 Not yet forgotten by their Queen 
 
 The brave La Valliere's race/' 
 
 My mother's gratitude for this, 
 
 No time, no trouble spared — 
 
 And me to fill my honor'd post 
 
10 LOUISE. 
 
 Without delay prepared, 
 
 But when, at last, the hour drew near 
 
 My childhood's home to leave, 
 
 Afar to dwell with strangers cold, 
 
 Ah ! deeply did I grieve. 
 
 A strange and dark foreboding pass'd 
 
 My hopeful spirit o'er : 
 
 "Shall I again return in peace, 
 
 Or see my home no more ? " 
 
 The parting came. I earnestly 
 
 To calm my heart had striven ; 
 
 But when I saw my mother's tears, 
 
 Heard her last blessing given, 
 
 I hastened to depart, lest sobs 
 
 My anguish should betray — 
 
 And, half-unconscious, from her arms 
 
 Was swiftly borne away. 
 
 At Fontainebleau arrived, the Queens 
 Deign'd me reception kind. 
 
CANTO I. 11 
 
 Their condescension reassured 
 
 My timid, anxious mind. 
 
 That morn, I learn'd, the King and Duke, 
 
 With privileged escort, 
 
 Had led the sprightly Duchess forth 
 
 To share the huntsman's sport. 
 
 Full many a gallant stag, that day, 
 
 Full many a timid doe 
 
 Was slain beneath the stately oaks 
 
 Of royal Fontainebleau. 
 
 But Anne of Austria found the chase 
 
 O'ertax'd her failing strength ; 
 
 And with the Queen, her daughter-in-law, 
 
 Renounced that sport, at length. 
 
 Anon, her chamberlain despatched 
 
 A waiting page to show 
 
 Th' apartment there allotted me, 
 
 That thither I might go. 
 
 Twilight was lost in darkness, when 
 
12 LOUISE, 
 
 The royal hunt returned. 
 
 Immense wax torches brilliantly 
 
 Throughout the Palace burn'd ; 
 
 When gaily on the soft night breeze 
 
 Approaching sounds were borne 
 
 Of bounding steed, and baying hound 
 
 And merry bugle horn. 
 
 To my high casement window rose 
 
 The courtly laugh and jest, 
 
 As, following the Monarch, they 
 
 Within the courtyard pressed. 
 
 Alert attendants hurry forth, 
 
 The blazing torch convey, 
 
 And quickly the dark court grew light, 
 
 In mimicry of day. 
 
 I saw the King, with agile grace, 
 
 From his fleet hunter bound, 
 
 The blooming Duchesse d'Orleans 
 
 Lift lightly to the ground. 
 
 Then proffer her his hand, in aid 
 
CANTO I. 13 
 
 To mount the stairway bright ; 
 
 A train of courtiers, following close, 
 
 Concealed them from my sight. 
 
 One hour scarce past, a little page 
 The summons brought to me — 
 "Her Royal Highness has returned, 
 And, Lady, sends for thee." 
 With beating heart I rose, and strove 
 My fears to cast aside, 
 As to the Presence Chamber, I 
 Was usher'd by my guide. 
 Thro' halls, with whose magnificence 
 I deem'd could nought compete, 
 Thro' jeweU'd dames and silken lords, 
 The English Princess' suite ; 
 Gay, gorgeous, ever-changing groups, — 
 Shrinking and awed, I pass'd, — 
 Admitted to a grand saloon, 
 My splendid goal at last. 
 
14 LOUISE. 
 
 The Princess, in her chair of state, 
 
 With courteous word relieved 
 
 Th' embarrassed maid of honor, thus 
 
 Most graciously received. 
 
 When murmurs in the ante-rooms, 
 
 The folding doors thrown wide, — 
 
 His Majesty. All present rose, 
 
 To do him homage vied. 
 
 And he, saluting them, his place 
 
 Beside the Duchess took ; 
 
 Her lovely countenance assumed 
 
 Its most bewitching look. 
 
 Their joyous mood, in converse gay 
 
 And repartee, found vent ; 
 
 Until the Princess will'd, to him, 
 
 Her stranger maids present. 
 
 In turn before the King I bow'd, 
 
 My senses all confused ; 
 
 My trembling limbs, to bear me back, 
 
 Their aid well-nigh refused. 
 
CANTO I. 15 
 
 The pallor that overspread my face 
 
 Internal strife reveal'd. 
 
 His eagle scrutiny discerned 
 
 That tremor ill conceaFd. 
 
 A few short sentences to me, 
 
 As to the rest, he spoke ; — 
 
 What strange emotions in my breast 
 
 Those casual words awoke ! 
 
 Abash'd, I dared not raise my eyes 
 
 The royal glance to meet ; 
 
 With low and timid reverence, 
 
 I ventured to retreat. 
 
 That night, reposing on my couch, 
 Scarce one short hour I slept ; 
 The past day's incidents across 
 My mental vision swept. 
 Again and o'er, my errant thoughts 
 Each word and tone recall' 
 Of one, in majesty and grace, 
 
16 LOUISE. 
 
 Pre-eminent o'er all. 
 
 A month sped by. At Fontainebleau, 
 UnrivalFd on the scene, 
 The Princess moved, the soul of all, 
 And not the passive Queen. 
 The courtiers crowded her saloons, 
 The King his presence lent 
 Nightly— with her Court Masque to plan, 
 Or new ballet invent. 
 I lived for these few hours alone ; 
 All day I long'd, yet fear'd 
 To see the groups of courtiers rise 
 Before the King appeared. 
 Last of my young companions placed, 
 Until he late withdrew, 
 'Mid fairer maids unnoticed, I 
 That princely form might view. 
 And though the hope of this one hour, 
 Had buoy'd me thro' the day, 
 
CANTO I. 17 
 
 With strangest contradiction, oft 
 I wish'd me far away. 
 
 One night a gorgeous ballet danced 
 By Madame and the King — 
 The Seasons call'd — His Majesty 
 Impersonated Spring. 
 Art's votaries, to win his praise, 
 Their various talents brought ; 
 To illustrate the fabled scene 
 Dramatic marvels wrought. 
 On Fontainebleau's blue lakelet's marge, 
 Raised as by magic wand, 
 An open theatre, to view 
 Gave Nature's scenes beyond. 
 Its stage, by rich artistic skill, 
 With flowers and foliage green 
 Enwreath'd and intertwined, reveaFd 
 A rare, enchanted scene. 
 Stern Winter and his sullen train 
 
18 LOUISE. 
 
 In furry garb attired, 
 
 Possessed the Earth, to banish whom 
 
 Came Spring, the long desired. 
 
 To favor'd courtiers, minor parts, 
 
 (The Elements) were given ; 
 
 Soon Winter, to his frozen lair 
 
 By gay assailants driven. 
 
 Then deities of wood and stream, 
 
 To welcome Spring, came forth ; 
 
 In triumph hail the Power that forced 
 
 Dread Winter to the North. 
 
 As stately goddess of the chase, 
 
 Fair Henrietta roved ; 
 
 With bevy of attendant nymphs 
 
 Thro' graceful mazes moved. 
 
 And dancers, emblematical 
 
 Of Peace, Abundance, Mirth, 
 
 Approach, to laud the happy reign 
 
 That renovates the Earth. 
 
 Till, finally, the joyous groups, 
 
CANTO I. 10 
 
 In one exultant band, 
 
 Unite, surround the vernal Prince, 
 
 Deliverer of the land. 
 
 Then Summer — Autumn bearing fruits, 
 
 With reaper train advanced ; — 
 
 Unheeded all ; but one absorbed 
 
 My senses deep entranced. 
 
 The Lords, the radiant Princess shone, 
 
 Pale satellites round one 
 
 Whose dazzling presence beam'd alike 
 
 On all, th ; imperial Sun. 
 
 Concluded — murmurs of applause 
 
 The whispering breezes fill. 
 
 The ballet ended, all are free 
 
 To dance or roam at will. 
 
 Conflicting feelings, at its close 
 My struggling soul oppressed ; 
 I long'd to wander forth, and seek 
 For solitude and rest. 
 
LOUISE. 
 
 The placid moon upon the lake 
 Pour'd down her silver flood ; 
 And torches gleam'd, at intervals, 
 Like meteors thro' the wood. 
 Reflected in its crystal wave 
 The countless lamps around 
 Of many-color'd hues, the whole 
 With wondrous beauty crown'd. 
 E'en seem'd it that the very skies 
 The Monarch's will obey'd, 
 Bringing from cloudless, azure depths 
 Their starry hosts array'd. 
 
 " Come, Aure de Montalais ! " I said, 
 " Come view with me to-night 
 The groves and tow'rs of Fontainebleau 
 Bathed in the moon's pure light." 
 Two other maids of honor heard 
 The promenade proposed ; 
 And readily the trio gay 
 
CANTO I. 21 
 
 With my suggestion closed. 
 
 The balmy summer air of June 
 
 Their boisterous mirth subdued, 
 
 As on we rambled, pensively, 
 
 Thro' moonlit lawn and wood. 
 
 At length, beneath a large oak tree, 
 
 A huge, wide-branching mass, 
 
 Fatigued, we threw ourselves to rest 
 
 Upon the fragrant grass. 
 
 " Now, ladies fair/' quoth sportive Aure, 
 
 "Each one of you I cite, 
 
 Of all the gallant, courtly train 
 
 To name her favor'd knight. 
 
 Ill set a good example first, 
 
 And honestly admit 
 
 That none can equal Malicorne 
 
 In court address or wit/' 
 
 The beauteous Tonnay Charente smiled : 
 
 "I willingly impart 
 
 The knowledge that De Montespan 
 
22 LOUISE. 
 
 Is nearest to my heart. 
 
 Yet none outvied the Count cle Guiche, 
 
 And charming Lauzun too, 
 
 How graceful in the new ballet — 
 
 Award all praises due ! " 
 
 "Nay, Athenais," young Chalais cried, 
 
 " I verily protest, 
 
 In elegance Saint Aignan far 
 
 Surpasses all the rest/' 
 
 " Speak, thou, Louise ! " cried Aure, " for why 
 
 Thus silent is thy voice? 
 
 Confess to us, thy faithful friends, 
 
 The object of thy choice/' 
 
 Excited and amazed, I heard 
 
 Each mirthful maiden speak, 
 
 And felt th' indignant color rise 
 
 O'er burning brow and cheek. 
 
 "I have no choice, I mark'd them not," 
 
 I hastened to reply, 
 
 "Can one take thought for other men, 
 
CANTO I. 23 
 
 When our great King is by ? " 
 
 " So ! none can please but Royalty ! " 
 
 Cried Aure, in mocking tone. 
 
 " Ah ! no ! " I earnestly disclaimed— 
 
 " 'Tis Louis, not his throne ! 
 
 Too dangerous to ladies' hearts 
 
 That splendid form and face ; 
 
 Were not effectual safeguard form'd 
 
 By his exalted place/' 
 
 Scarce had the words escaped my lips, 
 I started in affright, 
 For there, behind the massive oak, 
 An object met my sight ; 
 Or man, or beast, in that dim light 
 My terror could not tell, 
 But fear and shame within my breast, 
 To instant flight impel. 
 " See ! see ! " I pointed. All arose. 
 " A wolf/' they cried, and fled ; 
 
24 LOUISE. 
 
 Back to the Palace in dismay, 
 Our flying footsteps sped. 
 
 My chamber gain'd, I threw myself 
 Upon my knees, and pray'd 
 That thro'' my folly I might not 
 A jest to all be made. 
 I pass'd that night in bitter tears, 
 Oppressed with nervous dread, 
 Lest those light maidens should repeat 
 What I, unguarded, said. 
 Yet I must rouse, and of my griefs 
 All outward sign suppress ; 
 Nor let the jeering courtiers see 
 My undisguised distress. 
 Our service forced me to attend, 
 And near the Princess wait ; 
 I pass'd, with faltering step and slow, 
 To meet my coming fate. 
 I watch'd each smiling face, as I 
 
CANTO I. 25 
 
 My late companions met, 
 
 And pray'd that they forever might 
 
 Those few rash words forget. 
 
 I was not in suspense, alas ! 
 Permitted to remain, 
 
 No friendship might the chattering tongue 
 Of Montalais restrain. 
 Earlier the King our circle join'd 
 That memorable eve ; 
 Absorbed in thought perplexed, I fail'd 
 His entrance to perceive, 
 When Aure approach/ d, and whispered low, 
 "He comes, Louise, in haste, 
 The only object that can please 
 Thy most fastidious taste/' 
 By signs for mercy I implored — 
 Her unrelenting mirth, 
 My spirit, conscience-smitten, crushed 
 And bow'd it to the earth. 
 
26 LOUISE. 
 
 A movement in the courtly groups 
 
 Withdrew her mocking eye ; 
 
 And, with unspeakable dismay, 
 
 I saw the King draw nigh. 
 
 He paused beside the Duchess' maids, 
 
 In turn addressing each ; 
 
 At length, unto my trembling self, 
 
 I heard his courteous speech. 
 
 I answered hurriedly and low ; 
 
 He started at my voice, 
 
 And ask'd again " If Fontainebleau 
 
 Or Paris were my choice ? " 
 
 Forced to reply again, I felt 
 
 His dark, expressive eyes 
 
 Upon me cast a beaming look 
 
 Of pleasure and surprise. 
 
 A moment motionless he stood, * 
 
 Then bowing, onward past, 
 
 But to the spot where I remained, 
 
 Still backward glances cast. 
 
CANTO I. 27 
 
 'Twas well I could not guess the truth, 
 For Louis, 'neath the oak, 
 Had heard the mad, impulsive words, 
 Which there of him I spoke. 
 Four maids of honor leave the ball 
 To breathe the soft night air ; 
 Saint Aignan saw, and watch'd us forth 
 Thence to the woods repair. 
 He sought the King, on frolic bent — 
 " A rare occasion waits, 
 My Liege ! the secrets of young hearts 
 To read through faVring fates. 
 Four nymphs desert the ball-room's glare 
 Retire to yonder groves ; 
 There, in the moonlight, they confide 
 The story of their loves. 
 Sire, an you list, we follow them, 
 I wager ample sport, 
 For, to no other end, the maids 
 To moonlit bowers resort/' 
 
28 LOUISE. 
 
 Eager the Monarch led the way, 
 
 And both our course pursue, 
 
 Concealing in the shadows deep 
 
 Their persons from our view. 
 
 They followed to the oak unseen ; 
 
 Though recognising not 
 
 The maidens, who, in evil hour, 
 
 Had wander'd to that spot. 
 
 They caught my words — of Louis then 
 
 Th' involuntary start 
 
 Reveal' d a form — we saw it move, 
 
 And, terrified, depart. 
 
 Thenceforth, ere exit of the King 
 Our nightly court disperse, 
 He, with respect, drew near to me 
 Each evening, to converse. 
 I dreaded lest this notice might 
 The Duchess proud displease ; 
 But his demeanor grave and mild 
 
CANTO I. 29 
 
 Restored me soon to ease. 
 
 " Oh, might my loyalty repay 
 
 His undeserved esteem! " 
 
 I whispered to my heart, beguiled 
 
 In sweet, delusive dream. 
 
 Was it esteem alone, that thus 
 With bounding heart elate 
 The Princess I attended forth 
 To grace a rural fete? 
 Far from the Palace, we beheld 
 The sumptuous tables laid, 
 Glittering with gold and je weird plate, 
 Deep in the sylvan glade. 
 Excited by the novel scene 
 Our merriment wax'd high ; 
 And none remarked the lowering clouds 
 Fast gathering in the sky. 
 Until upon our startled groups 
 The vivid lightning flashed ; 
 
30 LOUISE. 
 
 While thro' the ancient forest-trees 
 
 The thunder's echo crashed. 
 
 Torrents of rain, descending fast, 
 
 Increase the sullen gloom ; 
 
 Remorseless ruin showering 
 
 On broider'd robe and plume. 
 
 No time for courtly etiquette ; 
 
 By sudden terror driven, 
 
 All rush'd to seek a refuge, safe 
 
 From threatening clouds of heaven. 
 
 I ran in haste from tree to tree, 
 
 Nor knew I where to fly; 
 
 Anxious I gazed for shelter round, 
 
 None met my troubled eye. 
 
 All suddenly beside me stood 
 
 A well-known royal form ; 
 
 Beneath a thick and leafy tree 
 
 He led me from the storm. 
 
 In safety placed, my first quick thought 
 
 Impelled me thence to flee, 
 
CANTO I. 31 
 
 "What if the Duchess should observe 
 
 His Majesty with me ! " 
 
 He gently stopped me, as I turn'd ; 
 
 His fair, uncovered head 
 
 Bending, he spoke — "Am I to thee 
 
 An object then of dread? 
 
 Alas ! what boots my diadem, 
 
 Or what my kingly power, 
 
 If my approach thus terrify 
 
 One sweet, retiring flower ! 
 
 Think'st thou that sovereigns are placed 
 
 All sympathy above ; 
 
 Should, satisfied, enjoy their state, 
 
 Nor stoop to wish for love ? " 
 
 I answered, "Sire, it needs not me 
 
 The King of France to tell, 
 
 Above all sovereigns, he is loved 
 
 By faithful subjects well/' 
 
 "Ah!" he returned, "not this the love 
 
 His passion wild implores 
 
32 LOUISE. 
 
 From the fair idol that his soul 
 Most fervidly adores. 
 I will no longer be restrained ; 
 I swear, on bended knee, 
 Not to enjoy one happy hour 
 While unbeloved by thee ! " 
 
 I could not trust my faltering voice- 
 All motionless I heard ; 
 Deep in my heart the music stole 
 Of each impassioned word. 
 I pray'd him from the turf to rise 
 Where he himself had thrown, 
 Imploring favor of the heart 
 That long had been his own. 
 He rose and took his place again, 
 But closer to my side — ■ 
 I had not answered him a word, 
 Yet he was satisfied. 
 For I could not my eyes restrain, 
 
 
CANTO I. 38 
 
 Although my lips were mute ; 
 
 And Louis, by love's instinct taught, 
 
 Knew unrebuked his suit. 
 
 The storm continued three long hours, 
 
 But to us both did seem 
 
 Only a few, short moments, spent 
 
 In Love's absorbing theme. 
 
 Uncovered Louis stood, these hours, 
 
 While pouring streams descended, 
 
 And with his plumed hat, my head 
 
 From dripping leaves defended. 
 
 Reluctantly he granted then 
 
 My strongly pressed desire, 
 
 That we, at once, to Fontainebleau 
 
 By separate paths retire. 
 
 Alone I reached the Palace — there 
 A private staircase gain'd, 
 By which my chamber secretly 
 Unquestioned, I attained. 
 
34 LOUISE. 
 
 I dreaded to appear that eve, 
 
 But all my courage nerved 
 
 To ascertain if any eye 
 
 My strange delay observed. 
 
 I watch' d all faces anxiously, 
 
 But could no sign detect 
 
 That of our interview that morn 
 
 The courtiers aught suspect. 
 
 Only the Duchess' parting words 
 
 Some transient fears excite : 
 
 "Where were thy thoughts, fair friend?" she 
 
 said, 
 " So all absorbed to-night ! " 
 
 Retired at length, I could not rest ; 
 Still in my courtly robe 
 I sat, endeavouring in vain 
 My spirit's depths to probe. 
 That morning's scene the veil had rent, 
 The passion wild divulged, 
 
CANTO I. 35 
 
 Which, under loyalty's fair name, 
 
 My traitor heart indulged. 
 
 And who the object of such love? 
 
 I shudder'd as I read 
 
 The name upon my conscience graved 
 
 Of one I could not wed. 
 
 One, who within a few brief months, 
 
 Had pledged his royal hand ; 
 
 And brought a gentle Spanish bride 
 
 From her fair Southern land. 
 
 Had I forgotten all things good? 
 
 My mother's parting prayer 
 
 That her beloved child might pass 
 
 Unscathed thro' every snare ? 
 
 She would have spurn'd the thought, that love 
 
 Thus guilty could allure 
 
 The daughter her fond trust believed 
 
 All innocent and pure. 
 
 Thus thro' the long night watch, alone 
 
 On Passion's ocean toss'd, 
 
36 LOUISE. 
 
 Wave upon wave, the mental surge 
 
 My wilder'd spirit cross'd. 
 
 One moment, and I vow'd to flee, 
 
 To keep the righteous path, 
 
 Unmoved, the King's reproaches hear, 
 
 Unmoved, to brave his wrath ; 
 
 Upon my mother's loving breast 
 
 To shed repentant tears, 
 
 And all my sorrows pour within 
 
 Her sympathising ears. 
 
 In vain, alas ! my wise resolves 
 
 Thoughts of the past defeat. 
 
 Still I beheld the suppliant King 
 
 Low kneeling at my feet. 
 
 How could I nerve myself to bear 
 
 Th' insufferable pain 
 
 Never to hear that pleading voice, 
 
 Ne'er meet those eyes again? 
 
 Oh ! had I then possessed at Court 
 
CANTO I. 37 
 
 One true, one faithful friend, ^ 
 
 On whose sage counsels I, in need 
 
 For guidance, might depend, — 
 
 One, who, amid all Court intrigues 
 
 Stood firm and undepraved ; 
 
 What an amount of woe to me 
 
 Such noble friend had saved ! 
 
 Impressing on my wavering mind 
 
 In language plain and strong, 
 
 The deep remorse, that, soon or late, 
 
 Must follow deeds of wrong. 
 
 Alas ! not mine the blessedness 
 
 Such counsellor to find ; 
 
 But one who strove, in bands of sin, 
 
 My captive heart to bind. 
 
 To her vain sophistries I fell 
 
 An unresisting prey; — 
 
 Who could uphold th' unrighteous cause 
 
 Like Aure de Montalais? 
 
38 LOUISE. 
 
 She soyght, by various artful wiles, 
 My confidence to gain, 
 That, thro' my power o'er Louis, she 
 Might wealth and rank obtain. 
 Her importunities, at length, 
 O'er prudence' voice prevailed ; 
 To her, with tears of anguish, I 
 My hopeless love bewail'd. 
 She ridiculed my cause of grief, 
 Protesting she would die 
 Ere she became a simpleton 
 As scrupulous as I. 
 Why should I cherish silly doubts, 
 Or soul-distressing fears ; 
 In melancholy pass the days 
 Of these my fairest years ? 
 'Twas Heaven's intention that the young 
 Should life and love enjoy ; 
 Nor brooding thus o'er fancied sins 
 Their happiness destroy. 
 
CANTO I. 39 
 
 Why should the King's avowal cause 
 Such anguish and alarm? 
 "Who could believe devoted love 
 Might work its idol harm ? 
 Thus reasoned Aure, religious fears 
 And scruples to dismiss ; 
 Temptations painting in their stead, 
 Visions of earthly bliss. 
 
 Our mutual passion grew the while, 
 And silently increased ; 
 Though Conscience, faithful to her trust, 
 Her warnings never ceased. 
 The King scarce noticed me at Court, 
 But rarest flowers each morn 
 Saint Aignan brought, and Aure's betroth' d, 
 The wily Malicorne. 
 A household officer this last, 
 Attendant on the King, 
 He, unsuspected, might, thro' Aure, 
 
40 LOUISE. 
 
 Or flowers or letters bring. 
 
 His Majesty his love had told 
 
 Those highly favor'd two — 
 
 Believing them of all his Court 
 
 Most trusty and most true. 
 
 To justify such confidence 
 
 Their energies aroused, 
 
 Each noble, with enthusiasm, 
 
 His Monarch's cause espoused. 
 
 It was the part of Malicorne 
 
 To seek my confidante, 
 
 And lead me, thro' her influence, 
 
 A longed-for boon to grant. 
 
 "The King/' he said, "had borne constraint, 
 
 And could no longer bear ; 
 
 But to obtain one interview 
 
 His very life would dare." 
 
 Aure hastened to consult me ; then 
 
 My cruelty denounced, 
 
 When I denial of his prayer, 
 
CANTO I. 41 
 
 Most resolute, pronounced. 
 
 "Twas my peculiar pride/' she said, 
 
 "The King to contradict ; 
 
 And on his sad, devoted heart 
 
 Yet deeper wounds inflict. 
 
 She could not image to herself 
 
 What dangers could occur, 
 
 That should from such a simple act 
 
 Of courtesy deter/' 
 
 I listened, till her arguments 
 My first resolve withdrew. 
 I promised to accord, ;next morn, 
 A private interview. 
 Still one condition I imposed 
 Ere yielding full consent ; 
 That Mademoiselle de Montalais 
 My close companion went. 
 At once this stipulation Aure 
 Indignantly opposed, 
 
42 LOUISE. 
 
 Till Malicorne, by private sign, 
 
 The warm discussion closed. 
 
 Yet she declared my conduct must 
 
 The fondest love estrange ; — 
 
 Nothing availed remonstrances 
 
 My last decree to change. 
 
 And scarce departed Malicorne 
 
 Ere slumbering Conscience woke, 
 
 Condemning sinful complaisance, 
 
 In keen reproaches spoke. 
 
 Aure, startled at my burst of grief, 
 
 Her utmost powers exerted, 
 
 And dexterously my troubled mind 
 
 To happier themes diverted. 
 
 That it was wrong to see the King 
 
 She sturdily denied; 
 
 In conversation passing time, 
 
 What evil could betide? 
 
 Next morn, before th' appointed hour, 
 
CANTO I. 43 
 
 The ardent King arrived ; 
 
 I, leaving Aure to greet him, stood 
 
 Of speech and power deprived. 
 
 The salutations o'er, on me 
 
 He glanced with mild reproach ; 
 
 Eegretted on my leisure he 
 
 Had ventured to encroach. 
 
 But he had long'd to learn the cause 
 
 Of my apparent change ; 
 
 What had occurred, unknown to him, 
 
 Our friendship to estrange? 
 
 He had not ask'd this interview 
 
 With purpose to complain ; 
 
 I need not fear intrusion more, 
 
 He would not come again. 
 
 His mournful voice upon my ear 
 
 In thrilling accents stole, 
 
 Until my emotion, rising fast, 
 
 Defied my weak control. 
 
 Overcome, I turn'd to Montalais, 
 
U LOUISE. 
 
 On friendly arm to lean ; 
 
 But she was gone— and empty space 
 
 Where lately she had been. 
 
 The high-back'd chair near which I stood, 
 
 A needed stay, I grasp'd ; 
 
 When instantly my sinking form 
 
 In Louis' arms was clasp'd. 
 
 How shall I dare the ecstasy 
 Of those wild moments paint, 
 As, unresisting, on his breast 
 I wept without restraint! 
 While he, upon my brow and cheeks 
 His burning kisses pressed ; 
 And in love's tenderest, soothing tones, 
 His new-born hopes expressed. 
 The paroxysm of weeping o'er, 
 I struggled to be calm 
 And listen to his words, that fell 
 Like healing drops of balm. 
 
CANTO I. 45 
 
 Upon a couch, beside him drawn, 
 
 My drooping form he placed ; 
 
 And one beloved, supporting arm 
 
 He clasp'd around my waist. 
 
 Nor would he, wayward, spite my prayers, 
 
 His stolen caresses cease ; 
 
 Till Aure's approaching footstep gave 
 
 The signal of release, 
 
 I instantly, in Aure's bright eyes 
 Malicious joy detect ; 
 Though in the Monarch's presence veil'd 
 With show of deep respect. 
 A shade of consciousness, suppressed, 
 A certain change of mien, 
 Convinced me that, unseen herself, 
 By her had all been seen. 
 She said, ''Our term of absence now 
 Had some time past expired ; 
 And in the Duchess' presence we 
 
46 LOUISE. 
 
 Were possibly required/' 
 
 Love's sweet illusion suddenly 
 Her warning voice disturbed, — 
 The King, with regal self-command, 
 His strong impatience curb'd. 
 Resignedly he rose, but ere 
 Pronouncing his adieu, 
 Implored that on the morrow, he 
 His visit might renew. 
 Oh, on the easy, downward path, 
 How swift my footsteps speed ! 
 I hesitate — refuse — and last, 
 To all he ask'd, accede. 
 Then, ere I could his purpose guess, 
 Or could his will resist, 
 My passive hands in both his own 
 He gently raised, and kiss'd, — 
 Then left th' apartment. I, in haste, 
 Embarrassment to hide, 
 
CANTO I. 47 
 
 Aure's late desertion, strange escape, 
 
 Turn'd falt'ringly to chide. 
 
 Her sneering laugh my words arrest 
 
 With chilling, instant check ; 
 
 But sent the burning blushes swift 
 
 O'er crimson brow and neck. 
 
 Observing steadily my face, 
 
 She said, with glance demure, 
 
 That the King's gratitude she should 
 
 Forever now secure ; — 
 
 She had not previously supposed 
 
 I disapproved her pranks, 
 
 But felt assured His Majesty 
 
 Would render grateful thanks. 
 
 Alas ! with reason she indeed 
 
 Triumphant might exult, 
 
 Her efforts had procured to him 
 
 A long-desired result. 
 
 Both words and actions plainly showed 
 
 The projects she designed : 
 
48 LOUISE. 
 
 How could I, to her want of faith 
 
 So wilfully be blind? 
 
 But that one strong, resistless power, 
 
 Held o'er me boundless sway ; 
 
 And led nie, at another's will, 
 
 To wander far astray. 
 
 Ye aged, let Compassion's voice 
 O'er Judgment stern prevail ! 
 Ye, who in wiser years review 
 Our human nature frail, 
 Bid all, rememb'ring youthful days, 
 Youth's follies wild deplore ; — 
 I had scarce number' d eighteen years, 
 The King but twenty-four. 
 Oh ! bid them mark my lonely state, 
 With perils thick beset ; 
 And view my errors tenderly, 
 With pity and regret. 
 
CANTO I. 49 
 
 Recov'ring thought, I pray'd that Aure 
 The mission undertake, 
 To tell the King we must not meet 
 Again, for either's sake. 
 But Aure refused, in angry haste, 
 To further such design ; 
 Lest odium on her head be cast, 
 That should have fallen on mine. 
 Ah ! well she knew, refusing thus, 
 All would on me devolve ; 
 And my unaided spirit fail 
 T' accomplish my resolve. 
 I had no friend to seek the King, 
 And dare iW appointment break, 
 Which, by his pleadings overcome, 
 I was beguiled to make. 
 I sat next morning, unresolved, 
 My course considering yet — 
 When Louis entered — thus again 
 A second time we met. 
 
50 LOUISE. 
 
 I could not, at his sight, repress 
 
 A blush and joyous start ; 
 
 And, springing to my side, at once, 
 
 He pressed me to his heart. 
 
 Clasp'd in his arms, my trembling soul 
 
 Complete revulsion felt ; 
 
 Like snow before the Summer sun 
 
 My resolutions melt. 
 
 'Gainst his intrusion, bold and rash, 
 
 I utter' d no protest ; 
 
 I could not break th' entrancing spell, 
 
 In his loved presence blest. 
 
 Ah ! whither fly from Love's assaults ? 
 
 What unknown weapon wield ? 
 
 Lone in my unprotected youth, 
 
 How could I choose but yield ? 
 
 Swiftly each day the moments flew, 
 Pass'd in communion sweet ; 
 When the soft shades of evening fell, 
 
CANTO I. 51 
 
 Brought they the hour to meet. 
 Seeking the woods of Fontainebleau, 
 Where we unseen might stray ; 
 And Louis, by a thousand wiles, 
 Long our return delay. 
 Once, there, awaiting him, beside 
 A rustic fountain's brink, 
 I lingered, raising in my hand 
 Its limpid waves to drink. 
 I started. Contemplating me 
 The King had stood concealed; 
 His voice in sportive challenge thus 
 His hiding-place reveal'd. 
 
 " Bright Naiad of the fount, all hail ! 
 May one bold mortal dare, 
 Adoring, sue the nectar draught 
 Of thy cool wave to share 
 From cup like pearly sea-shell ? — nay ! 
 I swear by thy blue eyes, 
 
52 LOUISE. 
 
 No goddess half so beautiful 
 In famed Olympian skies ! " 
 
 He knelt — lie drank — again — again — 
 "In this fair hand of thine, 
 More priceless vase than Hebe bore, 
 The water turns to wine ! " 
 'Mid those grand forests, side by side 
 Seated, on mossy bank, 
 Forgotten etiquette of Court, 
 Disparity of rank. 
 Parting the tresses round my brow 
 In rich profusion euii'd, 
 He vow'd each golden ringlet worth 
 The empire of the world ; — 
 That, in his kingdom's wide extent 
 None could with me compare ; 
 Nor ever, in their Sovereign's heart, 
 His deep devotion share. 
 Ah ! what avails it, once again, 
 
CANTO I. 53 
 
 The oft-told tale to tell, 
 
 How, by overmastering love subdued, 
 
 From Virtue's paths I fell? 
 
 Would that the truest penitence 
 
 These mem/ries might efface, 
 
 And bid Oblivion's waters roll 
 
 To cover my disgrace ! 
 
 Oh ! the ensuing months of bliss, 
 Madly delirium fraught ! 
 I had not deem'd them dearly then 
 With my best life-blood bought. 
 Now, to atone those fleeting days, 
 Each with new raptures rife, 
 Nought can suffice the after years 
 Left of my worthless life. 
 
 Daily, the irksome Council o'er, 
 Punctual to trysting hour, 
 Louis, though pressed by state affairs, 
 
54 LOUISE. 
 
 FaiFd not to seek my bower. 
 Anxious my sad remorseful thoughts 
 Hasting to dissipate, 
 He, to divert me, Council scenes, 
 Jesting, would then relate. 
 How, at the conclave, I alone 
 Ever his mind engage ; 
 Till, for relief, some lines he traced, 
 Sent me by trusted page. 
 How the sage councillors appeared 
 • Much by this act annoy'd ; 
 How their discomfiture, meanwhile, 
 He had with zest enjoy'd. 
 Each his companions searching eyed, 
 Jealous to penetrate 
 Orders thus secret hurried forth — 
 They must concern the State. 
 We laugh' d, to know each sage surmise 
 Had fallen so far remote ; 
 None guessing for Love's eyes alone 
 
CANTO I. 55 
 
 The missives that he wrote. 
 
 Thus flew the hours in soft discourse, 
 
 Till Aure, returning late, 
 
 Would, tapping, warn the ling ring King 
 
 That we must separate. 
 
 My silenced conscience always woke ; 
 
 All soothing balm bereft, 
 
 I felt myself alone, indeed, 
 
 When he my chamber left. 
 
 Yet deeper anguish was in store, 
 For I became aware 
 That, to his love, I should, ere long, 
 A living claimant bear. 
 What new despair overwhelmed me then ! 
 Nor slow the King to guess 
 The secret, that, against my will, 
 He forced me to confess. 
 I pray'd that he would hide me far, 
 In some secluded spot, 
 
5G LOUISE, 
 
 Where I might dwell, surrounded there 
 
 By those who knew me not. 
 
 For I could not endure the thought 
 
 To be all good men's scorn, 
 
 Nor longer my disgrace concealed, 
 
 Whene'er my child was born. 
 
 "And dost thou think, my own Louise, 
 My delicate, fair flower, 
 That I could bear to leave thee thus, 
 Lone in thy trial hour? 
 No ! first thy Louis by thy side, 
 Until all peril past, 
 I see thy infant safely laid 
 In thy dear arms at last." 
 
 Thus he, with fond caresses, spoke, 
 Persuading that, with care, 
 None but the trusted need with us 
 Our cherish'd secret share. 
 
CANTO I. 57 
 
 My reputation, to the world 
 
 Should shine without a stain, 
 
 If I, as maid of honor, still 
 
 Would quietly remain. 
 
 That this could be accomplish'd, he 
 
 His kingly honor pledged ; 
 
 Th' event would prove how accurate 
 
 The statements he alleged. 
 
 Beside, where seek for sympathy 
 
 If I departed thence? 
 
 How leave the Princess' service thus ? 
 
 And under what pretence ? 
 
 I dreaded lest my shame become 
 To my poor mother known ; 
 Her agony of grief could nought 
 Her daughter's guilt atone. 
 
 I sought my chamber frequently, 
 In solitude to weep, 
 
58 LOUISE. 
 
 And mnse upon the bitter fruit 
 
 My evil deeds must reap. 
 
 And thither, too, a footstep soft 
 
 Came through the twilight dim : 
 
 Instinctively my throbbing heart - 
 
 Would recognise it him. 
 
 All hastily my tears were dried, 
 
 Composure to recover ; 
 
 I fear'd to meet his searching glance, 
 
 Lest I should grieve my lover. 
 
 But these endeavors to deceive 
 Were often made in vain ; 
 Unconsciously my features bore 
 The marks of recent pain. 
 Alarm'd, he then would question me, 
 And so insist and press, 
 That I must own to him, at last, 
 The subject of distress. 
 He gently would reproach me then, 
 
CANTO I. 59 
 
 How could I ever deem 
 
 Our darling infant's birth a cause 
 
 For sorrow thus extreme? 
 
 That this event would bind us fast 
 
 In Nature's holiest ties ; 
 
 Nor could a doubt, from henceforth, e'er 
 
 Between our hearts arise. 
 
 This thought alone could solace bring. 
 
 In vain Love's accents plead 
 
 For cheerfulness — his eloquence 
 
 Was powerless to succeed ; 
 
 And finally, with kisses press'd 
 
 Upon my forehead pale, 
 
 Departing, I might dare again 
 
 My shame and guilt bewail. 
 
 With all my strength, I forced myself 
 Such inward strife to quell; 
 And to their usual service still 
 My failing limbs compel. 
 
60 LOUISE. 
 
 Oh, if one torture here on earth 
 Be heavier than the rest, 
 It is to feel by secret guilt 
 The shuddering soul opprest ; 
 Compelled to guard unceasingly 
 Lest aught the truth betray, 
 While danger of discovery grows, 
 Increasing every day. 
 Ah, maidens ! tempted to transgress, 
 My sad experience learn ; 
 And ere it be indeed too late, 
 From dire destruction turn ! 
 
 Precautions numberless I took, 
 Yet fancied, keen and chill, 
 The Duchess' eyes upon me fix'd, 
 With stern suspicion fill. 
 A speechless terror seized me then, 
 As stood I on the brink 
 Of bottomless abyss, wherein 
 
CANTO I. 61 
 
 I must be cast, and sink. 
 
 I struggled bravely, desperately, 
 
 Unconscious mien to feign ; 
 
 And through th' ordeal I must pass, 
 
 An outward calm maintain. 
 
 Mute I remained, as petrified, 
 
 Nor from my posture stirr'd, 
 
 Until her scrutinising gaze 
 
 To others she transferred. 
 
 My fears had rendered me unjust — 
 My vision all obscured ; 
 The Princess was unconscious quite 
 Of what I then endured. 
 No respite could I dare to hope, 
 No mitigation found ; 
 Inquisitors severe I saw 
 In those gay triflers round. 
 Yet I these daily torments all 
 Would willingly endure, 
 
62 LOUISE. 
 
 If that my menaced honor might 
 Such martyrdom secure. 
 
 Thus slowly dragged the weary days, 
 Each fraught with new alarms ; 
 But night brought back forgetfulness, 
 Night — in Love's sheltering arms. 
 My head upon his bosom laid, 
 Sole refuge from my woes, 
 Confiding in his love and power 
 I tasted brief repose. 
 I loved the King with love intense, 
 Devoted — ardent — wild — , 
 Oh, that it should be sin to love 
 The father of my child ! 
 But vain his soft, persuasive voice 
 The consciousness to drown 
 That Heaven, upon our guilty heads, 
 In righteous wrath look'd down. 
 In vain the future from my thoughts 
 
CANTO I. 63 
 
 I laboured to exclude, 
 
 'Mid Passion's fond illusions, still 
 
 Would Conscience' stings intrude. 
 
 Again this shrinking soul must brave 
 Another trying task ; 
 To tell my state to Aure, her aid, 
 Most requisite, to ask. 
 My face concealed with both my hands, 
 In deep confusion bow'd, 
 My sin and its results, to her 
 I humbly there avow'd. 
 I heeded not her vain attempt 
 That fault to palliate ; 
 Her flatt'ring, false excuses, nought 
 Could self-reproach abate. 
 
 Aure, moved to see my suffering, 
 A stratagem advised — 
 I should feign illness, Madame be 
 
64 LOUISE. 
 
 Thereof by her apprised. 
 
 This scheme would serve a twofold end 
 
 From scrutiny to free, 
 
 And secretly some hours, each day, 
 
 The King might pass with me. 
 
 She thank'd me for my confidence, 
 Assured I could select 
 No better aid to meet the hour 
 Which I must soon expect. 
 That she would undertake for me 
 All matters to arrange 
 For this emergency, so new, 
 So terrible, and strange. 
 To keep my fame unsullied, she 
 "Would leave no means untried, 
 And stand beside me to the last, 
 Whatever might betide. 
 My swelling heart could find no words 
 Her kindness to accept ; 
 
CANTO I. 
 
 65 
 
 I flung myself into her arms, 
 And bow'd my face — and wept. 
 
CANTO II 
 
 At times, I strove to rouse myself, 
 
 "With Louis dared to plead 
 
 That in seclusion I might live, 
 
 From supervision freed. 
 
 My arguments were powerless ; 
 
 No mortal could convince 
 
 Against his own determined will, 
 
 Or move my wayward Prince. 
 
 " I must/' he said, " from self-reproach 
 
 To such excess, forbear ; 
 
CANTO II. 67 
 
 Lest seriously this constant grief 
 
 My precious health impair. 
 
 Trusting his love, how could I thus 
 
 New dangers apprehend? 
 
 Was I not dear to him as life ? 
 
 Beside, I had a friend 
 
 Who would rejoice all offices 
 
 Of friendship to fulfil ; 
 
 To watch beside my couch of pain, 
 
 And cherish me when ill." 
 
 These cheering words, repeated oft, 
 
 Encouragement bestow'd ; 
 
 I ceased, with every coming day, 
 
 Disasters to forebode. 
 
 In my own chamber's privacy 
 
 My leisure time employed, 
 
 I trusted from suspicious eyes 
 
 All notice to avoid. 
 
 And Montalais' sharp watchfulness 
 
 The King's injunction kept, 
 
68 LOUISE. 
 
 Malicious whispers far from me 
 To turn and intercept. 
 
 Advancing Autumn followed fast 
 Fair Summer's fading bloom ; 
 The Court prepared festivities 
 At Paris to resume. 
 The dread of such removal came 
 All unforeseen — abrupt ; 
 My hardly won, unwonted calm 
 Again to interrupt. 
 I could not tranquilly the change 
 Endure to contemplate ; 
 The King, without success, essay'd 
 My grief to mitigate. 
 To reconcile me had required 
 A more than human art, 
 Aware the royal Palace stood 
 Far from the Duke's apart. 
 Within the Palais Royal, I 
 
CANTO II. 69 
 
 My destiny must bide ; 
 
 My lover, at the Tuileries, 
 
 In regal pomp reside. 
 
 I thought upon the weary hours 
 
 That then must intervene, 
 
 And render visits, frequent now, 
 
 But few and far between. 
 
 And fearful visions of disgrace 
 
 And terrors undefined, 
 
 Tormented and harassed anew 
 
 My apprehensive mind. 
 
 Till lines of royal carriages 
 
 Announced the moment come, 
 
 The Court deserts fair Fontainebleau 
 
 To seek a winter home. 
 
 Ah, Fontainebleau ! beloved spot ! 
 
 How clings my heart to thee ! 
 
 Thy fairy bowers, thy fountains still, 
 
 In troubled dreams, I see. 
 
 I see thy forests' lengthening shade 
 
70 LOUISE. 
 
 The vesper hour denote ; 
 
 Thy murm'ring waters, still I hear 
 
 Like distant music float. 
 
 And she, upon whose golden curls 
 
 The lingering sunbeams shone? — 
 
 Behold her now, the Carmelite, 
 
 Forsaken and alone. 
 
 Toward Paris gay our retinue 
 Pursued its rapid way, 
 And reach' d the Palais Cardinal 
 As closed the gloomy day. 
 Aure craved we might retire at once 
 On plea of sore fatigue ; 
 I thank'd her zeal, nor guess'd with whom 
 My confidante in league. 
 I followed whither Aure, as guide, 
 My passive footsteps led ; 
 Till at my chamber door, the King 
 Stood smiling in her stead. 
 
CANTO II. 71 
 
 Vanished my weariness, at sight 
 Of that beloved face ; 
 Remorse and shame forgotten, lost 
 In passionate embrace. 
 
 This joy, unlook'd for, render'd now 
 My timid spirit bold ; 
 To his indulgent ear I there 
 My fears and fancies told. 
 He re-assured me instantly, 
 And vehemently swore 
 " Our separation could but serve 
 T' enhance his love the more. 
 No obstacle could bar the way 
 When love and power unite ; 
 And he would gain access to me 
 As heretofore, each night/' 
 
 He kiss'd the eyes, that, raised to his, 
 In grateful tear-drops glisten'd ; 
 
72 LOUISE. 
 
 While to his proud, defiant tones, 
 
 In silent awe I listened. 
 
 I ventured no remark, that might 
 
 Our happiness disturb ; 
 
 Content to gaze upon that form 
 
 And countenance superb. 
 
 Oh, little of the future years 
 
 In those soft hours we reck'd ; 
 
 We might not stifle Passion's voice 
 
 To sadden and reflect. 
 
 His lightest touch had power, my frame 
 
 With ecstasy to thrill ; 
 
 I lived but to anticipate, 
 
 And mould me to his will. 
 
 'Twas at this time, the State Police 
 A strange discovery made, 
 Which, on my mind, oversensitive, 
 In constant terror prey'd. 
 An effigy of Henri Quatre 
 
CANTO II. 73 
 
 In public square was found ; 
 
 Pierced with a dagger, to a stake 
 
 The royal image bound. 
 
 A placard to the Sovereign 
 
 Was fastened on its breast ; 
 
 Fierce menaces, of import dire, 
 
 To Louis thence addressed. 
 
 These murderous intents made known, 
 
 In horror all transfixed ; 
 
 Outbursts of loyal zeal resound, 
 
 With indignation mix'd. 
 
 My consternation and distress 
 
 I vainly would depict ; 
 
 The misery these dark threats had power 
 
 Upon me to inflict. 
 
 And I must school my countenance, 
 
 Tutor my lips to smile ; 
 
 Though horrible forebodings rack'd 
 
 And tortured me the while. 
 
 I had not dream' d there lived a soul 
 
74 LOUISE. 
 
 So desperate and black 
 
 As that which urged to regicide 
 
 The madman Bavaillac. 
 
 The King but inattentive ear 
 
 Vouchsafed this incident, 
 
 Regarding it the work alone 
 
 Of single malcontent. 
 
 He treated all the Court alarms 
 
 With jest, or notice slight, 
 
 And silenced all who dared their King 
 
 To stricter guard incite. 
 
 Not with a like indifference 
 I view'd the placard foul ; 
 I saw around my lover's path 
 A thousand murderers prowl. 
 And when, as oft, with escort small, 
 He will'd to ride abroad, 
 No fairer chance to strike the blow 
 Their wishes could afford. 
 
CANTO II. 75 
 
 The windows of my chamber look'd 
 
 The royal Palace way; 
 
 I sought them, in my restlessness, 
 
 To gaze without, and pray. 
 
 How many false alarms I then 
 
 Was doom'd to undergo, 
 
 Watching with anxious scrutiny 
 
 The moving throngs below. 
 
 I fancied oft, their hurried course 
 
 They toward the Tuileries took; 
 
 My frame, from head to foot, convulsed 
 
 With agitation shook. 
 
 I dreaded some catastrophe, 
 
 Some blow from traitor hand; 
 
 To wrap in mourning all the length 
 
 And breadth of our fair land. 
 
 Oh ! had the etiquette of Court 
 
 Such liberty allowed, 
 
 I should have hastened breathlessly 
 
 To mingle with that crowd. 
 
76 LOUISE. 
 
 To reassure the throbbing brain 
 
 By nameless horrors rack'd, 
 
 Which love and apprehension wild 
 
 United to distract. 
 
 These frightful phantasms, at his glance 
 
 Vanquished, in air dissolved; 
 
 And 'gainst recurrence of such fears 
 
 I constantly resolved. 
 
 'Twere sacrilege to think, that he 
 
 So idolised — so great — 
 
 Might ever meet, from secret foe, 
 
 His grandsire's timeless fate. 
 
 I knew not all my weakness, till 
 
 "With Louis felt depart 
 
 The transient strength his presence gave 
 
 To nerve my drooping heart. 
 
 Amid these mental conflicts came 
 The hour of Nature's strife, 
 When I, in shame and woe, must give 
 
CANTO II. 77 
 
 A guiltless being life. 
 
 I suffered silently till night ; 
 
 By swift increase of pain, 
 
 CompelFd to ask the aid of Aure 
 
 My chamber to regain. 
 
 She blamed my silence sharply— then 
 
 Retired, in haste to send 
 
 And warn the King, two precious lives 
 
 Upon his speed depend. 
 
 A note from Aure to Malicorne 
 
 The secret tidings brought, 
 
 And for assistance, instantly 
 
 And urgently besought. 
 
 She trusted to his prudence tried, 
 
 This delicate affair; 
 
 To seek the King, and privately 
 
 The startling summons bear. 
 
 Meanwhile, fierce mental sufferings, join'd 
 To bodily, assail. 
 
78 LOUISE. 
 
 What if in this emergency 
 
 Our sole dependance fail? 
 
 E'en self-reliant Montalais 
 
 Some dim misgivings felt, 
 
 But strove to hide her fears from me, 
 
 As by my side she knelt. 
 
 Each passing moment seem'd an hour, 
 
 A dreary hour to us ; 
 
 In this our time of utmost need, 
 
 Alone and helpless thus. 
 
 Though one half hour had scarce gone by, 
 It seem'd to us an age 
 Since Aure despatched to Malicorne 
 Her messenger, the page; — 
 When at the apartment door was heard 
 A low and cautious knock, 
 Which, the concerted signal given, 
 Aure hasted to unlock. 
 'Twas Louis ; in his troubled face 
 
CANTO II. 79 
 
 And agitated mien, 
 
 I read that he untoward results 
 
 Had dreaded and foreseen. 
 
 He paused, at some low words of Aure 
 
 To signify assent ; 
 
 Then over me, with soothing words, 
 
 And whispered comfort, leant. 
 
 Alas ! no tender sympathy 
 No fond caress availed 
 To ease the pangs, that, sharper grown, 
 My tortured frame assaiFd. 
 Yet still to Louis, as for help, 
 Instinctively I clung ; 
 Although no sound escaped the lips 
 By mortal anguish wrung. 
 I doom'd myself the poor relief 
 Of utterance to deny, 
 Resolved no cruel paroxysm 
 Should wring from me a sigh. 
 
80 LOUISE. 
 
 I knew unusual sounds might be 
 In neighboring chambers heard ; 
 And death to open infamy 
 I gladly had preferred. 
 No right had I in loud complaints 
 To give my sufferings vent, 
 Or murmur at the penalty 
 From Heaven upon me sent. 
 
 But Louis mark'd the look convulsed 
 My quivering features wore, 
 And whispered some command, forthwith, 
 To ready-witted Aure. 
 She sought the door : two muffled forms, 
 Obedient to her nod, 
 Wary and cautious, gliding in, 
 With noiseless footsteps trod. 
 
 They threw aside disguise and mask. 
 I recognised them both,— 
 
CANTO II. 81 
 
 A Court physician, whom the King 
 
 Had bound, by solemn oath, 
 
 Never to mortal ear reveal 
 
 What might that hour occur ; 
 
 And Aure's betrothed, who paused, discreet, 
 
 And spoke apart to her. 
 
 But now, th' excessive agony, 
 Intolerable grown, 
 Extorted, spite of stern resolve, 
 A low and stifled moan. 
 This sound recalled to Louis, all 
 I still must undergo ; 
 He motion'd to approach my couch, 
 The learned Alliot. 
 
 He came : with rapid, searching glance 
 My situation view'd; 
 Then turn'd him where th' excited King 
 In expectation stood. 
 Respectfully, but firmly, spoke 
 
82 LOUISE. 
 
 In tones subdued and low ; 
 
 And pray'd him in the room of Aure, 
 
 Adjoining mine, to go. 
 
 He had not otherwise presumed 
 
 His Sovereign to advise ; 
 
 But dreaded lest such presence there 
 
 His efforts paralyse. 
 
 He durst not else so serious charge 
 
 Consent to undertake ; 
 
 The lives of mother and of child 
 
 Were both, he said, at stake. 
 
 The King exclaimed, indignantly, 
 
 " What ! leave her thus forlorn ! " 
 
 When to the wise physician's aid 
 
 Came forward Malicorne. 
 
 He humbly knelt before the King, 
 
 Imploringly spoke he : 
 
 "For her sweet sake, my Liege, retire 
 
 Without delay with me ! " 
 
 I caught his words ; with effort strong, 
 
CANTO II. 
 
 The King's fond hand unclasp'd : 
 "My own beloved, leave me now/' 
 In quick, faint accents gasp'd. 
 
 Distracted by conflicting fears, 
 Overcome by this appeal ; 
 The wisdom of our joint request 
 The King appeared to feel. 
 "I yield to thee, Louise/' he cried; 
 "And since retire I must, 
 My faithful Alliot, receive 
 Thy Monarch's priceless trust ! 
 I place my life within your hands. 
 Take crown, take all I have ! 
 Guerdon too light for whom 'tis given 
 My suff'ring dove to save ! 
 Oh, let me not have cause to mourn 
 The trust reposed in you ! ' ; 
 He falter'd, sign'd to Malicorne, 
 And hastily withdrew. 
 
84 LOUISE. 
 
 Then terrible the struggle came 
 My fortitude to try, 
 Until its crisis heralded 
 A new-born infant's cry. 
 The listening King, in high suspense, 
 This welcome signal caught ; 
 And tears of ecstasy relieved 
 His feelings over-wrought. 
 Then he, unused to brook control, 
 Or one impulse resist, 
 Rush'd back, and ardently my hands 
 And pallid features kiss'd. 
 
 And Aure approached his Majesty 
 Ere long, with beaming face ; 
 "My gracious Liege, a noble boy 
 I bring to your embrace ! " 
 He fondly kiss'd the tender babe, 
 Extoll'd his infant charms ; 
 Then gently taking him from Aure, 
 
CANTO II. 85 
 
 He laid him in my arms. 
 
 " See, Monsieur Alliot ! " he said, 
 
 "Your recompense is won ! 
 
 We thank you for the advent safe 
 
 Of this fair little one ! " 
 
 The Doctor bow'd acknowledgment ; 
 But with reminder mild, 
 He questioned when the King proposed 
 He should remove the child. 
 Twas now past midnight, and the case 
 Admitted no delay ; 
 The infant should be far from hence 
 Before the break of day. 
 I must resign the blessedness 
 Of pure maternal joy ; 
 As sleeping, nestled close to me, 
 I pressed my beauteous boy. 
 Too well I knew to part from him 
 My perilled fame demands ; 
 
86 LOUISE. 
 
 I must submit to yield my child 
 
 At once to stranger hands. 
 
 Just penalty of guilt ! from all 
 
 A mother's joys debarred ; 
 
 Condemned to stifle Nature's voice, 
 
 Against disgrace to guard. 
 
 I might not ev'n, for respite brief, 
 
 To Louis' love appeal ; 
 
 Aware each flying moment might 
 
 My condemnation seal. 
 
 They wrapp'd him in a cloak, prepared 
 Of texture fine and warm ; 
 And, 'neath his mantle, Alliot 
 Conceal'd the tiny form. 
 He promised to convey him safe 
 To his awaiting nurse ; 
 Returning thence, without delay, 
 Our anxious fears disperse. 
 And Malicorne accompanied them, 
 
CANTO II. 87 
 
 Through private paths to lead, 
 And aid him to perform his task 
 With secresy and speed. 
 
 The strong excitement, borne so long, 
 My powers had overtaxed ; 
 And languor, creeping over me, 
 Body and mind relax'd. 
 The King observed the hand he held 
 Grow lifeless, pale, and cold ; 
 A drooping head, inanimate, 
 His circling arms uphold. 
 
 He, terror-stricken, summoned Aure : 
 She saw me fainting lie ; 
 With steady hand, restoratives 
 She hastened to apply. 
 To bathe my forehead, and my hands 
 Continued still to chafe, 
 When Alliot, re-entering, 
 
88 LOUISE. 
 
 Announced the infant safe. 
 
 They found the peasant nurse, forewarned, 
 Awaiting on the quay ; 
 Where he, surrendering the child, 
 To us retraced his way. 
 The foster-mother, Malicorne 
 Conducted to a barge, 
 Remaining, at the King's request, 
 Himself beside his charge. 
 The skiff unmoor'd, its burden bore 
 Far down the winding Seine, 
 Until their destined landing-place 
 The practised oarsmen gain. 
 A village on the bank contained 
 The nurse's lowly cot; 
 In this secure retreat the babe 
 Must share her humble lot. 
 The courtier bade her cherish him, 
 Nor of the duty tire, 
 
CANTO II. 89 
 
 But never venture of his birth, 
 
 Or parentage, inquire. 
 
 He told her, on her faithful care 
 
 He trustfully relied ; 
 
 And gold, for more than all her wants, 
 
 Abundantly supplied. 
 
 He saw the baby laid to rest 
 
 In that obscure abode ; 
 
 Then, in his boat, complacently, 
 
 To Paris back was row'd. 
 
 The learned Alliot, meanwhile, 
 My prostrate state discerned ; 
 High commendation from the King 
 His prompt assistance earn'd. 
 The cordials he administered 
 My consciousness revived, 
 As from his journey, Malicorne 
 In breathless haste arrived. 
 He told of his success, but wish/d 
 His Majesty to warn 
 
 N 
 
90 LOUISE. 
 
 That in the East, faint streaks of light 
 
 Foretold the coming dawn. 
 
 Twas of the utmost consequence 
 
 To use extreme despatch; 
 
 On every side, unslumb'ring eyes 
 
 Their youthful Sovereign watch. 
 
 And he, reluctantly, must go, 
 
 The time propitious seize, 
 
 And, ere the break of day, be found 
 
 Within the Tuileries. 
 
 He gave to Aure a parting charge, 
 
 Then took his hasty flight, 
 
 With last embrace, assuring me 
 
 He would return at night. ■ 
 
 An ample cloak, around him thrown, 
 
 Enveloped head and shape ; 
 
 Guided by Malicorne, unseen, 
 
 They managed their escape. 
 
 Myself from all suspicion's power 
 Most eager to exempt, 
 
CANTO II. 91 
 
 I long'd, even at the risk of life, 
 
 To hazard one attempt. 
 
 I would appear that night at Court, 
 
 Would take my usual place, 
 
 Trusting thereby the lightest breath 
 
 Of scandal to efface. 
 
 I then petitioned Alliot 
 
 The effort to permit; 
 
 But he, with prohibition firm, 
 
 Forbade me think of it. 
 
 Awhile within my chamber bounds 
 
 I must consent to bide, 
 
 And in the strict precautions used 
 
 Implicitly confide. 
 
 " None could/' he said, " the slightest thought 
 
 Of wrong to me attach ; 
 
 And I must calm myself, some hours 
 
 Of needed rest to snatch/' 
 
 Soothed by these flattering words, devised 
 
 My spirits to compose, 
 
 I sunk in dreamless slumbers deep 
 
92 LOUISE. 
 
 Before the morning rose. 
 
 And Aure to Madame must make known 
 The illness of her friend ; 
 Afford my kind physician thus 
 A pretext to attend. 
 'Twas our first duty, every morn, 
 To serve at her toilette ; 
 My absence, thus excused, would rouse 
 Small notice or regret. 
 Despite the tale so specious, framed 
 By Aure's consummate tact, 
 A crowd of visitors to me 
 It tended to attract. 
 To spare me such intrusion, she 
 In vain excuses made ; 
 Their curiosity aroused 
 No reasons could dissuade. 
 My sudden illness furnished them 
 A plausible pretext ; 
 I listened to their words, with mind 
 
CANTO II. 93 
 
 Bewildered and perplexed. 
 Their late display of interest 
 I willingly had spared, 
 As none before, apparently, 
 For me took thought or cared. 
 
 The beauteous Tonnay Charente sought 
 My chamber with the rest ; 
 For my recovery, fervent hopes 
 Repeatedly expressed. 
 She was to wed De Montespan, 
 The Marquis, on the morrow ; 
 The Princess, at her loss, declared 
 Her undissembled sorrow. 
 Of all her maids of honor, she 
 The fairest, wittiest maid, 
 Adroitly flattered her caprice, 
 Alert her whims obey'd. 
 
 She charged me, by the morrow's eve, 
 To be restored enough, 
 
94 LOUISE. 
 
 And join the marriage festival, — 
 
 She would take no rebuff; 
 
 Had heard me indisposed, and came 
 
 Expressly to invite ; — 
 
 Here Alliot, appearing, put 
 
 My visitors to flight. 
 
 Impetuously accosting him, 
 I pray'd to leave my bed, 
 To-morrow with the Princess go 
 To see her favorite wed. 
 I felt my will would lend me strength, 
 If I might only rise. 
 He answered sharp, "Such madness, he 
 Would never authorise. 
 My health, my life might now depend 
 On keeping calm and still ; 
 The King's distress would all betray, 
 If I again were ill ! " 
 
 Louis, appealed to, tenderly 
 
CANTO II. 95 
 
 My apprehensions chid ; 
 
 But such exertion on my part 
 
 Inflexibly forbid. 
 
 Thus disallow'd, my cherished plans, 
 
 Annihilated, fell, 
 
 Submissive to his will, I bow'd. 
 
 Nor ventured to rebel. 
 
 But though to gratify the King 
 I strove to feel resigned ; 
 Still yearning for my absent babe, 
 In lonely hours I pined. 
 In fond imagination oft 
 I held him sleeping there ; 
 Again I saw that cherub form, 
 So innocent and fair. 
 
 My precious infant ! torn from me, 
 So delicate, so young ! 
 Not mine the happy mother's task, 
 To guide his lisping tongue. 
 
9G 
 
 LOUISE. 
 
 Not mine with loving care to watch 
 
 Beside his cradle bed, 
 
 Or nightly, pillow on my breast 
 
 His little, downy head. 
 
 No ! 'mid the peasant villagers 
 
 His only home must be ! 
 
 Ah, hapless babe, thou little knew'st 
 
 The tears that flow'd for thee ! 
 
CANTO III 
 
 Yet little time was granted me 
 
 To nurse maternal grief; 
 
 My heart, mid dazzling pageantry, 
 
 Must vainly seek relief. 
 
 A fortnight of repose, enforced 
 
 By him — my Liege — my Lord — 
 
98 LOUISE. 
 
 Gave me again to courtly scenes 
 
 And services restored. 
 
 My burdened conscience fretted sore, 
 
 And chafed at this delay, 
 
 Lest some untoward accident 
 
 My hidden shame betray. 
 
 These constant, sad forebodings served 
 
 My wishes to defeat ; 
 
 Retarding the recovery 
 
 I wearied to complete. 
 
 Though weak from recent suffering, 
 
 My wonted strength I feign'd, 
 
 And to appear at ease, each nerve 
 
 To utmost tension strain'd. 
 
 Yet could it be that sense of guilt 
 
 My judgment had deranged ; 
 
 And made the Duchess' circle seem 
 
 Disdainful and estranged? 
 
 Could it be fancy, that for me 
 
 Malicious shafts were aimM, 
 
CANTO III. 99 
 
 Which, in my self- abasement, I 
 
 As fitting penance claimed? 
 
 That maids of honor, once my friends, 
 
 With gaze suspicious eyed ; 
 
 And following the Princess' lead, 
 
 Recoil'd from me with pride? 
 
 Months thus elapsed, their coldness still 
 Acutely I could feel ; 
 But not a breath of all that pass'd 
 To Louis dared reveal. 
 I could not cloud that regal brow, 
 Disturb its lofty calm, 
 With anger toward her specious maids ; 
 Resentment toward ^Madame. 
 Betwixt the royal relatives 
 No discord should awake 
 To mar the harmony that reign'd, 
 For my unworthy sake. 
 
100 LOUISE. 
 
 The health of Anne of Austria 
 Had rapidly declined ; 
 But she, though conscious of her state, 
 Yet hoped all eyes to blind. 
 Unable now to leave her rooms, 
 Her former power must wane, 
 Unless by new devices, she 
 Her influence maintain. 
 Still from her hand, the King and Court 
 Their pleasures must derive ; 
 A series of amusements there 
 Her skill for them contrive. 
 She proffered to her pamper'd guests 
 A novel, costly bribe, — 
 Each evening, splendid lotteries 
 Attract the courtier tribe. 
 Rich trinkets, lavishly bestow'd, 
 To suit all ages — ranks ; 
 Each number must a prize secure — 
 The Queen excluded blanks. 
 
CANTO III. 101 
 
 One eve, to this exciting game 
 The brilliant circle met ; 
 That night, of mingled joy and pain, 
 Oh, when shall I forget ! 
 The King had drawn the highest prize, 
 A je weird bracelet rare ; 
 The Duchess proudly smiled, assured, 
 Ere long, that gem to wear. 
 I sat retired and unobserved 
 Among the courtier crowd ; 
 That bracelet's destination heard 
 Surmised in whispers loud. 
 On Madame's shrine they look'd to see 
 The royal homage laid. 
 Calmly and searchingly the King 
 Meanwhile the groups surveyed. 
 He rose at length, and leisurely 
 The vast saloon traversed; 
 The courtiers, with obsequiousness, 
 Before his path dispersed. 
 
102 LOUISE. 
 
 I dared not think — but felt the blood 
 
 My lips and cheeks desert ; 
 
 Instinctive feelings, from his course, 
 
 My downcast eyes avert. 
 
 A sound. I raised my head to learn 
 
 What that low murmur caused. 
 
 One glance sufficed. His Majesty 
 
 On reaching me had paused. 
 
 'Twas no illusion. Yes, I saw 
 
 The King before me stand ; 
 
 The jewel coveted by all 
 
 Lay sparkling in his hand. 
 
 With deferential bow profound, 
 
 The casket toward me held ; 
 
 But shrinking and dismayed, the gift 
 
 By gesture I repelFd. 
 
 Yet he, unchecked and resolute, 
 
 Still tendered it to me : 
 
 " Disdain not, fair La Valliere, 
 
 A gem unworthy thee ! " 
 
CANTO III. 103 
 
 Bewildered, I resisted not. 
 He clasp'd the bracelet on : 
 Then bowing gracefully again, 
 He turn'd him, and was gone. 
 
 My soul presaged the storm of wrath 
 And envy on me cast ; 
 As to the seat reserved for him 
 With stately step he pass'd. 
 Fair Henrietta's face betray'd 
 Her passions ill-suppress'd ; 
 Pride mortified and jealousy 
 Fierce raging in her breast. 
 What she regarded hers by right 
 Another to adorn ! 
 Her own attendant thus preferred 
 To her, a Princess born ! 
 The King, who publicly presumed 
 Her dignity insult ; 
 My coward instinct quail'd, in dread 
 
104 LOUISE. 
 
 Awaiting the result. 
 
 It tarried not. Ere noon next day 
 By special mandate sent, 
 To the Queen Mother's presence call'd, 
 With sinking heart I went. 
 So singular it seem'd, I first 
 Was tempted to delay ; 
 But quick another summons came 
 And hurried me away. 
 If I might but have seen the King 
 And ask'd for his advice ! 
 But how neglect the Queen's command. 
 Reiterated twice ? 
 I entered. Anne of Austria 
 Sat frowning and severe ; 
 Anticipating sure revenge, 
 The Duchess linger' d near. 
 That noble face, so like her son's, 
 Look'd full on me, and stern. 
 
CANTO III. 105 
 
 She spoke : " Young lady, much of ill 
 
 I grieve o{ you to learn. 
 
 Your present services, Madame 
 
 No longer will require ; 
 
 Tis fit that to your mother's care 
 
 You instantly retire. 
 
 The Princess for her kindness thank 
 
 Before from hence you go I" 
 
 But Henrietta interposed, 
 
 Exclaiming curtly, "No. 
 
 With idle ceremonial, I 
 
 Most willingly dispense ; 
 
 Let her but leave my palace walls — 
 
 At once depart from hence/' 
 
 " Have pity on me, gracious Queen ! " 
 I cried, in anguish wild, 
 " Oh ! for my honored mother's sake, 
 Spare her unhappy child ! " 
 Inexorable sat the Queen ; 
 
106 LOUISE. 
 
 In agony I turn'd 
 
 To Madame, who relentlessly 
 
 My supplications spurn'd. 
 
 Stung to the heart, and overwhelmed 
 
 By this unlook'd-for doom ; 
 
 Scarce conscious how, I found myself 
 
 Again within my room. 
 
 The corridors most frequented 
 
 Intuitively shunn'd ; 
 
 I closed the door, and on a seat 
 
 Sank pale, exhausted, stunn'd. 
 
 Oppressed and stupefied, I bore 
 
 With apathy, at first ; 
 
 Till all my wretchedness at once 
 
 Upon my vision burst. 
 
 What ! ignominiously expell'd, 
 
 And driven from the Court ! 
 
 I wrung my hands in bitterness, 
 
 And shuddered at the thought. 
 
 How bear my mother's agony 
 
CANTO III. 107 
 
 To know her child disgraced? 
 
 Beside myself at this idea, 
 
 My chamber bounds I paced. 
 
 Arrested oft by floods of tears, 
 
 And deep convulsive sobs, 
 
 I pressed my hands upon my heart 
 
 To still its aching throbs. 
 
 Then with the thought 'to leave the King 
 
 And never see him more/ 
 
 Came paroxysms more violent 
 
 Than all that went before. 
 
 Thus pass'd that melancholy day, 
 Till eve the moment brought 
 "When, from his daily trammels freed, 
 The King my presence sought. 
 Fatigue had still'd my grief, but left 
 My eyelids swoln and red ; 
 And Louis, at a glance, perceived 
 The tears that I had shed. 
 
108 LOUISE. 
 
 He ask'd their cause, which I to him 
 
 Most gladly had reveal' d, 
 
 But fears of evil consequence 
 
 My lips in silence seal'd. 
 
 His indignation with Madame, 
 
 And not with her alone, — 
 
 'Twixt him and the Queen Dowager 
 
 As cause of discord thrown. 
 
 The hasty Princess, in her wrath, 
 
 Perchance might all disclose, 
 
 Impart it to the mild young Queen, 
 
 And trouble her repose. 
 
 Beyond all else I dreaded this ; 
 
 My first strong impulse quell'd, 
 
 Despite his anxious prayers, from him 
 
 Firmly the truth withheld. 
 
 Till most unfounded jealousy 
 
 From my refusals w T oke ; 
 
 Which tears, by his reproaches drawn, 
 
 Served farther to provoke. 
 
CANTO III. 109 
 
 "Such strange concealment/' he averr'd, 
 " Some mystery must hide/' 
 A burst of faster streaming tears 
 Alone to this replied. 
 
 My conduct unaccountable 
 His doubts to frenzy fanned, 
 Changed supplications into threats, 
 Entreaty to command. 
 " Confess/' he cried, "for perfidy 
 I cannot, will not bear ! " 
 Still mute. Without another word 
 He left me in despair. 
 
 One hope to comfort me remained 
 Of reconcilement, still ; 
 A compact we, in earlier days, 
 Had bound us to fulfil. 
 No disagreement e'er should be 
 All night between us kept; 
 
110 LOUISE. 
 
 But be, by letter or by word, 
 
 Explained ere either slept. 
 
 Each sound my pulse made leap — my heart 
 
 With expectation burn, 
 
 Imagining I heard his step 
 
 Announcing his return. 
 
 "He could not fail his word/' I thought, 
 
 And calm'd myself to wait,— 
 
 In vain : with every hour, I felt 
 
 My confidence abate. 
 
 No letter came ; no penitent, 
 
 To pray me to forgive. 
 
 When morning broke, all desperate, 
 
 I vow'd for Heaven to live. 
 
 On Heaven alone the destitute 
 
 Of earthly aid must call ; 
 
 Even renounced by him, for whom 
 
 I had abandoned all. 
 
 I threw a mantle round me, sure 
 
CANTO III. Ill 
 
 Thus early none to meet ; 
 
 By private staircase reach'd a door 
 
 That led into the street. 
 
 Unseen I went, with frantic haste 
 
 Proceeded on my way ; 
 
 Till Chaillot's lowly Convent walls 
 
 Distinct before me lay. 
 
 Inspired anew with vigor, hope 
 
 To this asylum sprang. 
 
 I, entering, at the parlor-bell 
 
 A hasty summons rang ; 
 
 Then sat me on a wooden bench, 
 
 The slow response to wait ; 
 
 At last, the portress' visage grim 
 
 Peer'd at me through the grate. 
 
 No kind reception I was doom'd 
 
 From that old nun to meet : 
 
 "The whole community/' she said, 
 
 "Were making a retreat. 
 
 Nor nuns, nor their Superior, 
 
112 LOUISE. 
 
 At present could be seen ! " 
 
 My wounded spirit spoke aloud 
 
 Its disappointment keen. 
 
 "For mercy's sake, refuse me not ! 
 
 Tell the Superior now, 
 
 A soul in deep affliction comes 
 
 To take the solemn vow. 
 
 She will not, in her charity, 
 
 Reject my humble prayer/' 
 
 The portress nodded, closed the grate, 
 
 And left me waiting there. 
 
 Those bare old walls had charms. Ye Saints, 
 Bear witness to my truth ! 
 How readily I then for peace 
 Had sacrificed my youth. 
 I long'd to taste their holy calm ; 
 From that last refuge hurl'd, 
 What shelter would remain to me 
 In this unkindly world? 
 
CANTO III. 113 
 
 My eyes upon that cheerless grate 
 
 Were fastened two long hours, 
 
 Till grief, and want of nourishment, 
 
 Prostrated Nature's powers. 
 
 A gradual, heavy stupor bound 
 
 My senses, like a spell ; 
 
 And on the pavement, damp and cold, 
 
 Inanimate I fell. 
 
 Long I remained extended there : 
 How long, I do not know ; 
 For consciousness returned to me 
 Imperfectly and slow. 
 I roused at length, to feel myself 
 Strain' d in a close embrace ; 
 While tears of sympathy and love 
 Were falling on my face. 
 A mist obscured my sight, and hid 
 The person and the spot ; 
 I heard a well-known voice exclaim, 
 
 Q 
 
114 LOUISE. 
 
 " Alas, she knows me not ! " 
 
 " Ah, Sire ! What do you in this place ? " 
 I gather'd strength to speak. 
 "The cruel one who flies from me/' 
 He said, "I come to seek/' 
 " 'Tis he accuses me ! " The tones 
 A mild reproach expressed ; 
 And Louis, kneeling there, to me 
 His jealous wrongs confessed. 
 A thousand pardons he implored, 
 Himself a monster terni'd, 
 Deserving hatred and contempt 
 Forever, he affirmed. 
 Though life were insupportable 
 To him, without my love, 
 And groundless jealousy might ev'n 
 His passion's fervor prove ; 
 But overstrained discretion threw 
 Wrong colors on the fact, 
 
CANTO III. 115 
 
 Or nought had tempted him, a part 
 
 So odious to enact. 
 
 My generous forbearance gave 
 
 Proof of such noble soul ; 
 
 More perfect still my conduct seem'd, 
 
 As he reviewed the whole. 
 
 Then seizing both my hands, as sign 
 
 Of pardon, he besought 
 
 That I, forgetting all the past, 
 
 Return with him to Court. 
 
 I utterly refused at first, 
 Determined to resist ; — 
 I could not reappear at Court 
 Whence I had been dismissed. 
 The Queen's displeasure fallen on me, 
 The Princess' haughty wrath, 
 Ne'er would permit them to receive 
 Her who had cross' d their path. 
 Still he persisted : I must learn 
 
116 LOUISE. 
 
 To disregard their whim, 
 
 Who would presume molest the one 
 
 Known as beloved by him. 
 
 What shall I say ? His arguments 
 
 To all our love appealed ; 
 
 Unable to deny him aught, 
 
 I w^as constrained to yield. 
 
 Alas ! the parlor that received 
 
 A soul repentant, sad, 
 
 Beheld me leave it half consoled, 
 
 Guilty — yet almost glad. 
 
 Led — partly carried by the King, 
 He placed me in a coach, 
 The which, Saint Aignan's foresight shrewd 
 Had ordered to approach : 
 For when the Count's unrivaird tact 
 My sudden flight made known, 
 The King, without attendance, swift 
 To rescue me" had flown. 
 
CANTO III. 117 
 
 An early audienee had been given, 
 
 And well-nigh brought to close, 
 
 When, startled at my whispered name, 
 
 Abruptly Louis rose. 
 
 "What of the fair La Valliere?" 
 
 He questioned, turning pale. 
 
 Saint Aignan answer' d, "She has fled, 
 
 To take the sacred veil/' 
 
 Well for his dignity was o'er 
 
 The audience of State ; 
 
 His violent excitement, none 
 
 Could calm or moderate. 
 
 Then Anne of Austria interposed : 
 
 "Beware, my son, beware ! 
 
 You are not master of yourself, 
 
 Meseems, in this affair ! " 
 
 " Not master of myself ! " he cried ; 
 
 "Yet, Madam, I can be 
 
 A master stern to those who dare, 
 
 Disloyal, outrage me ! " 
 
118 LOUISE. 
 
 Nor farther word or look he deign'd ; 
 Impatient sprang to horse, 
 And, followed but by Malicorne, 
 To Chaillot urged his course. 
 Crown' d with success, his purpose there 
 Attained, one task was left — 
 My restoration to the post 
 By hands unpitying reft. 
 To plead my cause with Madame, urge 
 Her, obdurate and hard, 
 To suffer one her wrath had led 
 To scorn and to discard. 
 He must an interview demand, 
 Her angry mood allay, 
 The irksome role of suppliant, 
 Till then untried, essay. 
 And such his agitation still, 
 The Palais Royal gain'd, 
 That, in the Duchess' cabinet, 
 T' await her, he remained. 
 
CANTO III. 119 
 
 What infinite exertions there 
 
 In my behalf were used ! 
 
 The Princess, sullen and outraged, 
 
 Ail compromise refused. 
 
 His efforts then again renewed 
 
 Her stubborn will to bend, 
 
 To humblest prayers and tears for me 
 
 Disdained not to descend. 
 
 Till, after long detaining him 
 
 As 'twere upon the rack, 
 
 Ungraciously she gave consent 
 
 Then to receive me back. 
 
 Though granted thus, most gratefully 
 I re-assumed my post ; 
 Hoping the scandal still to keep 
 From her I valued most. 
 Ah, mother ! 'mid unhallow'd joys, 
 By worldly cares begirt, i 
 Thy early precepts, deep instiird, 
 
120 LOUISE. 
 
 Oft to thy child revert. 
 
 Must those inimical to me 
 
 Not eVn my mother spare ? 
 
 Make my dishonor known to thee ?— 
 
 Oh, hardest blow to bear ! 
 
 A letter from her hand expressed 
 Horror and disbelief, 
 Imploring instant, true reply, 
 To give her mind relief. 
 I felt no sharper punishment 
 Their malice could inflict. 
 Nor answer framed to meet the tale 
 I could not contradict. 
 Too well this silence ominous 
 The fatal truth announced ; — 
 My mother with her erring child 
 All intercourse renounced. 
 I deeply mourn'd — but silently ; 
 I mourn' d — but could not blame 
 
CANTO III. 121 
 
 Her who refused to countenance 
 
 Her daughter's guilt and shame. 
 
 A mother's fond solicitude 
 
 I well could comprehend ; 
 
 The sad, sad hours my banish' d child 
 
 Condemned me oft to spend. 
 
 Though maid of honor once again, 
 
 Madame, coerced and proud, 
 
 Impatiently my presence bore, 
 
 Or services allow'd. 
 
 But satisfied to gain release, 
 
 And observation shun, 
 
 I sought retirement, there secure 
 
 To give offence to none. 
 
 The balmy air of Spring inspired 
 A new desire at Court, 
 To royal country Palaces 
 Invited the resort. 
 These rural journeys gave to me 
 
122 LOUISE. 
 
 One boon, without alloy ; 
 
 Again, within my longing arms, 
 
 To clasp my infant boy. 
 
 Madame's aversion suffered me 
 
 Unchecked afar to roam ; 
 
 And, from the neighboring Palace, seek 
 
 My darling's humble home. 
 
 Not distant from the Palace grounds 
 
 The little village stood : 
 
 'Twas my delight to wander there 
 
 When unobserved I could. 
 
 Alone, or with my confidante, 
 
 I ventured oft to go ; 
 
 Saint Aignan and the King contrived 
 
 To meet incognito. 
 
 Eight months upon my baby's form 
 Their influence had shed ; 
 And with soft curls of chestnut hair 
 Adorn'd his little head. 
 
CANTO III. 123 
 
 His grave and lustrous eyes, my own 
 
 Arrest — to gaze — admire, — 
 
 The same dark eyes and lofty brow 
 
 That graced his royal sire. 
 
 The least observant might, I thought, 
 
 That strong resemblance trace, 
 
 And in his childish lineaments 
 
 Might see his father's face. 
 
 His Majesty himself perceived 
 
 And noted this with pride; 
 
 The Count and Montalais in terms 
 
 Of admiration vied. 
 
 For Louis to his infant son 
 
 Such tender love displayed, 
 
 That I, to know him cherished, felt 
 
 For everything repaid. 
 
 Yet one chance sentence, overheard, 
 
 A shadow o'er me cast, — 
 
 From Aure : " A fragile babe, in sooth ! 
 
 Too beautiful to last/' 
 
124 LOUISE. 
 
 Her words inspired alarm. In haste 
 I privately inquired 
 What reason for my baby's life 
 Uncertainty inspired. 
 With many protestations, Aure 
 To reassure me tried ; 
 
 That such a thought had crossed her mind, 
 Persistently denied. 
 And I, desirous to believe, 
 And tranquillise my mind, 
 Allowed her words, against the truth, 
 A mother's eyes to blind. 
 
 Unused to infants, ignorant, 
 I mark'd not, day by day, 
 The gradually progressive change 
 That indicates decay. 
 In false security I left 
 When closed our brief sojourn, 
 Trusting the royal promises 
 
CANTO III. 125 
 
 To hasten our return. 
 
 The splendid Palace of Versailles 
 Beginning to progress, 
 Absorbed the King, with auspices 
 Of eminent success. 
 Yet even to insure it, he 
 (Deserving utmost praise) 
 His father's old chateau, forbade 
 The architects to raze. 
 Much difficulty this resolve 
 Occasioned their design, 
 The hunting Palace with the new 
 In beauty to combine. 
 They raised objections and delays, 
 Their Sovereign harassed ; 
 Detaining him with varying plans, 
 Until a month had pass'd. 
 Informed of these annoyances 
 I could not give him pain ; 
 
126 LOUISE. 
 
 Reclaim his promises, ere long 
 To see my child again. 
 
 One morning, to Saint Germains came 
 A messenger, to tell 
 The sudden illness of the babe, 
 Till then reported well. 
 Such missives to Saint Aignan first 
 Were by precaution borne ; 
 The King perused, then to my hand 
 Conveyed through Malicorne. 
 He ordered both, no hint of this 
 To me communicate ; 
 Despatching Alliot with speed 
 To ascertain his state. 
 He went, and found him sinking fast, 
 His situation worse, 
 More hopeless than the state described 
 By his devoted nurse. 
 The King's grave silence, as we met, 
 
CANTO III. 127 
 
 Gave augury of ill ; 
 
 I guess'd his tidings, ere he spoke, 
 
 And shook as with a chill. 
 
 Pale as a marble effigy 
 
 I stood, transfix'd with dread ; 
 
 He took my hand, and silently 
 
 To my apartment led: 
 
 A host of fond suggestions there 
 To comfort me he gave ; 
 That Alliot's exertions yet 
 Our darling one might save; — 
 Kiss'd tenderly my tears away, 
 And pray'd me not to grieve, 
 As favorable symptoms soon 
 Might bring to us reprieve. 
 
 Some hours thus pass'd, when Malicorne 
 A black-seal'd letter bore 
 With signature of Alliot, — 
 
128 LOUISE. 
 
 The infant's life was o'er. 
 
 Upon the scenes ensuing, now 
 I cannot bear to dwell, 
 In loneliness and misery 
 Remembered but too well. 
 Clasp'd in each other's arms, we wept 
 He, striving to control 
 His own distress, endeavoring 
 Another to console. 
 No easy task ! For, with his loss, 
 I sorrowed o'er his birth ; — 
 I should have hail'd the wise decree 
 That summoned him from earth. 
 Yes, little Louis, spotless, pure, 
 Thou didst resign thy breath ! 
 I render fervent thanks to Heaven 
 That will'd thy early death ! 
 Thy bliss eternal and assured, 
 'Tis balm to contemplate : 
 
CANTO III. 129 
 
 Thy living brother, angel child, 
 Might envy thee thy fate. 
 
 But ah ! that sore bereavement e'er 
 Occasion should afford 
 To speeches, bitter, though deserved, 
 Most painful to record. 
 The mother's chastisement, they said, 
 Was through her offspring given, 
 To prove her crime not lightly held, 
 And unforgot in Heaven. 
 Pretended friends these whispers brought, 
 Officious to collect ; 
 I heard, but from the King disguised 
 Their saddening effect. 
 To bitter lamentations oft 
 I yielded me by stealth ; 
 Till serious injury, from thence, 
 Resulted to my health. 
 Forced smiles in presence of the King, 
 
130 LOUISE. 
 
 And in his absence, tears, 
 Produced upon my countenance 
 The ravages of years. 
 
 Nor long the change upon me wrought 
 Escaped my lover's eyes, — 
 Weeping in melancholy mood, 
 He took me by surprise. 
 Warn'd by my late experience, 
 I dared not aught suppress, 
 The cruel words that wrung my soul, 
 Reluctant must confess. 
 
 Then fiercely rose his ire, on means 
 Of vengeance to dilate ; 
 And I all else forgot, and strove 
 His w^rath to deprecate. 
 To give me wealth and rank, he oft 
 Would urgently propose ; 
 Entreat me not, to Madam e's whims 
 
CANTO III. 
 
 131 
 
 My health and peace expose. 
 But I, his gifts rejecting, love 
 Alone from him required, — 
 The highest aim of every hope, 
 And all that I desired. 
 
CANTO IV. 
 
 
 Another epoch to the King 
 
 Came with affliction rife ; 
 
 His mother's fatal malady 
 
 Had sapp'd the springs of life. 
 
 Her royal son's devotion kept 
 
 Him ever watching nigh ; 
 
 Till, faint with grief, they led him thence, 
 
 Unnerved .to see her die. 
 
CANTO IV. 133 
 
 Due honors to her memory 
 
 From Court and people paid — 
 
 And, by her will, at Val de Grace 
 
 Her pious heart was laid. 
 
 Saint Denis' ancient abbey claimed 
 
 To give her body rest ; 
 
 Ten thousand masses for her soul 
 
 Were sung at her behest. 
 
 Unread, beneath his mother s will 
 
 The King affix'd his seal : 
 
 Thus proving utmost confidence 
 
 In all it might reveal. 
 
 The Queen's decease all obstacle 
 
 To his designs removed, 
 
 Longing with ardor to display 
 
 His care for her he loved. 
 
 That waning life, by such attempt 
 
 He dreaded to afflict ; 
 
 Now, could no just displeasure curb 
 
 His actions — or restrict. 
 
134 LOUISE. 
 
 A Palace purchased — by the King 
 Adorn' d with secret care — 
 And from the Palais Cardinal 
 He brought me trembling there. 
 At sight of such magnificence, 
 Unsuitable for me, 
 I started back instinctively, 
 As with intent to flee. 
 But Louis, with controlling hand, 
 Repressed the movement swift : 
 " How ! still ? " reproachfully he ask'd, 
 " Refuse my every gift ? " 
 " At last — at last/' I cried, " behold 
 That miserable day, 
 Which my dishonor to the world 
 Must openly display ! 
 Oh, rather let me be condemned 
 To undergo the worst ; 
 Than, by contempt and public hate, 
 Forever be accurst ! " 
 
CANTO IV. 135 
 
 " Hear me, Louise, but one request ! 
 The last that I shall make ! 
 If not for thine, accept for his, 
 Thy unborn infant's sake/' 
 
 These words overcame my weak resolve, 
 Already strongly shaken ; 
 Before his prayers dissolved in air 
 All resolutions taken. 
 I gave me to his hands, induced 
 My last disguise to yield ; 
 All limits pass'd, I stood alone — 
 The royal power, my shield. 
 Alone I felt, yet not in truth, 
 Companionless I sway'd 
 In that terrestrial paradise 
 Which Love for me had made. 
 Gardens enclosed, with terraced walks, 
 Behind the mansion spread ; 
 And streams, conducted from afar, 
 
130 
 
 LOUISE. 
 
 Their limpid fountains fed. 
 
 What of profuse expenditure 
 
 Did he, the Sovereign, reck? 
 
 A crowd of menials, sent by him, 
 
 Stood waiting at my beck. 
 
 Their services, what use to me ? 
 
 Such numerous train, for what ? 
 
 Brought thither to anticipate 
 
 The wants that I had not. 
 
 " To-day/' he gaily spoke, " your sun 
 
 Of liberty has risen/' 
 
 Alas ! despite his honey'd words, 
 
 I did but change my prison. 
 
 Yet Louis judged unsafe alone 
 My. inexperienced age: 
 Sought, to protect and dwell with me, 
 A matron kind and sage. 
 In Madame Colbert one was found — 
 To compliment, perchance, 
 
CANTO IY. 137 
 
 Her son, the famous Minister, 
 
 And chief of the Finance. 
 
 Full sixty years ; of countenance 
 
 Benignant, though severe ; 
 
 A faithful friend in her I gain'd 
 
 To love and to jevere. 
 
 She, from her province late returned, 
 
 A peasant girt had brought, 
 
 Superior to the common class 
 
 Of rustic maidens taught. 
 
 Her manner, diffident and mild, 
 
 My fancy to her drew ; 
 
 A nature gentle and refined, . 
 
 Accorded to but few. 
 
 I begg'd her for myself — avow'd 
 
 My prepossession strange ; 
 
 Upon her speaking face I saw 
 
 Rejoicing at the change. 
 
 With generous enthusiasm 
 
 She loved me from that hour, 
 
138 LOUISE. 
 
 And indefatigably served 
 
 To utmost of her power. 
 
 My Genevieve, (they call'd her thus,) 
 
 Though born of humble race, 
 
 By merits justly had deserved 
 
 A higher rank and place. 
 
 All tenderness I needed now 
 My courage to sustain ; 
 The hour of Nature's agony 
 Approaching fast again. 
 Though fiird with dread, a hope, at times, 
 This prospect reconciled — 
 The mother's longing to embrace 
 Once more a living . child. 
 'Twas gratified ere long : one night 
 Of suffering ; — and at morn 
 The King received into his arms 
 A little daughter born. 
 Quickly he brought her to my side, 
 
CANTO IV. 139 
 
 Glowing with happiness : 
 
 Exclaimed, enraptured, "Thou, my child 
 
 Shalt be a great Princess ! 
 
 Speak ! canst thou e'er imagine, love, 
 
 That aught could bid us part? 
 
 Love, duty, nature, all unite 
 
 To bind thee to my heart ! " 
 
 Then, though by me conjured to keep 
 The secresy I prized, 
 His Majesty decreed his child 
 With certain pomp baptized. 
 And ' Marie Anne ' was given her, 
 The late Queen Mother's name ; 
 Added the blessed Virgin's, too, 
 Her patronage to claim. 
 
 Nor by this step contented, me 
 Yet further to endow, 
 A Duchess' coronet he placed 
 
140 LOUISE. 
 
 On my reluctant brow ; 
 
 And, king-like, scorning empty rank 
 
 And title to create, 
 
 Form'd of extensive lands for me 
 
 A suitable estate. 
 
 Insisting then that I, designed 
 
 Society to grace, 
 
 Should, prominent at Court, assume 
 
 A high and envied place. 
 
 Remonstrances, and many tears, 
 
 This exaltation cost, — 
 
 No honors could the innocence 
 
 Replace, that I had lost. 
 
 From sight of the young Queen I shrank. 
 These feelings to dispel, 
 The Courtiers, at the King's desire, 
 Resort to my hotel. 
 An ordeal, indeed, this proved ; 
 I fancied, on each face 
 
CANTO IV. 141 
 
 To read the inward consciousness 
 
 Of my profound disgrace. 
 
 Yet many ladies, to the Queen 
 
 Their false excuses coin'd ; 
 
 Deserting hers, to please the King, 
 
 My evening circles join'd. 
 
 For phases of existence new, 
 
 On me, of late, had dawn'd ; 
 
 No longer poor La Valliere, 
 
 Neglected, ay, and scorn'd. 
 
 War menaced us. Each noble hoped 
 
 To gain a high command ; 
 
 Ladies and lords beleaguered me 
 
 To forward their demand. 
 
 And was I happier ? Ah ! no ! 
 Presentiments of ill, 
 'Mid flattery's soft incense crept 
 Their poison to distil. 
 Much from this gay society 
 
142 LOUISE. 
 
 The King had promised me ; 
 
 Instead, chagrin' d, I found in him 
 
 But symptoms of ennui. 
 
 He brought to these reunions 
 
 A dreaming, absent look ; 
 
 Nor in their entertainments now 
 
 With interest partook. 
 
 I felt the change acutely, yet 
 
 Its cause I could not guess ; 
 
 The subject of his reveries 
 
 He parried with address. 
 
 And if, with pertinacity 
 
 I dared interrogate : 
 
 Forcing a smile, he answered me, 
 
 "The burdens of the State!" 
 
 Gladly I seized this plea, that best 
 
 His conduct could excuse, 
 
 And, anxious, sought for guests who might 
 
 His leisure hours amuse. 
 
CANTO IV. 143 
 
 Fair Athenais de Montespan ! 
 Ah ! well her part she play'd, 
 To gain the confideijce of those 
 So ruthlessly betray'd. 
 Created 'Dame du Palais/ she 
 The Queen's affections gain'd ; 
 And, at the self-same time, for me 
 Sincere attachment feign'd. 
 The blinded Queen her absence ne'er 
 Would willingly permit ; 
 The whole saloon enlivening 
 Her never -failing wit. 
 The talent of the Mortemars, 
 For repartee renown'd ; 
 And Louis, in her sallies, soon 
 His chief diversion found. 
 It gladdened me to see disperse 
 His reveries and gloom, 
 And in her sportive humor, he 
 His cheerfulness resume. 
 
144 LOUISE. 
 
 I thank'd her oft, and pray'd her not 
 Her visits long defer ; 
 I fathom'd not the motives then 
 That actuated her. 
 
 Now with the Flemish provinces 
 Hostilities declared ; 
 There to accompany the King, 
 The Queen and Court prepared. 
 But if I, too, might follow, he 
 Demurred, and seem'd to doubt : 
 "My babe required a mother's care, 
 Might pine, if left without/' 
 I could not render, at my will, 
 My soul composed and strong 
 To bear a separation, thus 
 Uncertain, dreary, long. 
 The bounds of due propriety 
 My anguish overstepped ; 
 I claimed the privilege to go, 
 
CANTO IV. 145 
 
 Then turn'd, abash'd, and wept. 
 
 " Nay, thou shalt go/' he tried to soothe, 
 " But weep not thus, I pray ; 
 I would have spared thy child and thee 
 The long, fatiguing way. 
 But as thou wilt ; the infant may 
 By slow and easy stage, 
 In Madame Colbert's care be borne, 
 As suits her tender age. 
 Art satisfied, Louise ? " His voice 
 Was gentle, kind, and low, 
 But lack'd the frank and fervent tones 
 That erst rejoiced me so. 
 Another question rose. My post 
 Was distant in the rear ; 
 The royal household service first 
 Must be the Sovereigns near. 
 The King was much embarrassed. I 
 Sat mute, in deep chagrin ; 
 
146 LOUISE. 
 
 When Athenais adroitly came 
 
 To our assistance in. 
 
 What I had ne'er presumed to dream, 
 
 She boldly dared to broach : 
 
 "Why not appoint the Duchess place 
 
 Within the royal coach?" 
 
 The King seem'd startled : " But the Queen ! " 
 
 " Say 'tis your royal will ! " 
 
 " Nay, that suffices not, if she 
 
 Should view th' arrangement ill/' 
 
 "Your Majesty approves the plan?" 
 
 " Much, if the Queen consent ! " 
 
 "'Tis then decreed, I take on me 
 
 To render her content/' 
 
 Words fail'd to speak my gratitude 
 
 For her untiring zeal, — 
 
 Could I foresee the martyrdom 
 
 She destined me to feel ? 
 
 Yet was it well deserved ; what right 
 
 Had I to take that place ? 
 
CANTO IV. 147 
 
 In presence of the injured Queen 
 
 To sit before her face ? 
 
 "What potent spell could my consent 
 
 To such intrusion bring ? — 
 
 The mad desire, at every risk, 
 
 To gaze upon the King. 
 
 Coldly the Queen received me, yet 
 Four ladies there beside 
 In courtesies and compliments 
 Her mark'd default supplied. 
 The Princess de Montpensier, 
 The stately Mademoiselle, 
 Her pleasure at my presence, deign' d 
 In studied terms to tell. 
 Mesdames De Bade and D'Armagnac, 
 Advances flattering made ; 
 And Athenais, despite the Queen, 
 The same attentions paid. 
 The army had preceded us 
 
148 LOUISE. 
 
 Of thirty thousand men ; 
 
 First in command the King had placed 
 
 His veteran chief, Turenne. 
 
 Thus journeyed we, from day to day, 
 While Athenais' address 
 Amused the Queen, and all her schemes 
 Accomplished with success. 
 For Louis oft, on fiery steed, 
 The royal carriage near, 
 Would lend her ever-ready jests 
 A pleased and willing ear. 
 Or absent, at the army's head, 
 Our inmost souls were stirr'd 
 By rumors of exploits, which all 
 In fear and wonder heard. 
 How, reckless of his life, the King 
 Within the trenches fought, 
 And thus his troops' idolatry 
 To highest pitch had wrought. 
 
CANTO IV. 149 
 
 Unlimited enthusiasm 
 
 Through every rank was spread ; 
 
 And irresistible the charge 
 
 When their great Monarch led. 
 
 So wide his heroism had borne 
 
 The terror of his name, 
 
 One hostile fortress oped its gates 
 
 Ere he before it earner 
 
 All-conqueror, invincible : 
 
 And constantly renewed 
 
 Came tidings of the cities won, 
 
 And provinces subdued. 
 
 Meanwhile, by slanders prejudiced, 
 The Queen's endurance turn'd 
 To pointed insults, aim'd at me, 
 By all the Court discerned. 
 Well know I now the enemy 
 That in concealment lurk'd ; 
 To acts, repugnant to herself, 
 
150 LOUISE. 
 
 Her gentle nature work'd. 
 
 Who had believed my vaunted friend 
 
 This change could instigate ? 
 
 With specious tales Her Majesty 
 
 Could vex and irritate ? 
 
 A siege detained the King from us ; 
 
 Her treatment long I bore ; 
 
 Endured with humble deference, 
 
 Till I could bear no more. 
 
 My babe with Madame Colbert left, 
 
 Awaited at Compiegne 
 
 Until the King should terminate 
 
 His world-renown' d campaign. 
 
 I form'd the plan to join them there, 
 
 And with misgiving heart 
 
 Determined of the Queen to crave 
 
 Permission to depart. 
 
 'Twas granted on the spot. She heard 
 With evident surprise, 
 
CANTO IV. 151 
 
 Nor cared to hide th' exultant joy 
 
 That sparkled in her eyes. 
 
 Nought now remained, but to the King 
 
 A courier depute, 
 
 And sure of his approval, haste 
 
 My plans to execute. 
 
 I took my leave. Some servitors 
 Were ordered there to stay, 
 And of the King's return, to me 
 Intelligence convey. 
 My equipage, the second day, 
 Had half performed the route, 
 When one of these my messengers 
 Came hotly in pursuit. 
 A letter from His Majesty 
 He gave, — and all was changed : 
 " My absence show'd my heart/' it said, 
 " Indifferent, estranged. 
 The war was over, 'gainst his arms 
 
152 LOUISE. 
 
 Resistance fruitless proved ; 
 
 And he would join the Court, to find 
 
 Absent his best beloved ! " 
 
 There was no time to hesitate ; 
 Though distant now afar, 
 I must return to welcome back 
 My hero from the war. 
 Twas late, but my resolve was made, 
 To travel all that night, 
 In hope the general rendezvous 
 To gain by morning light. 
 I counted every hour, and watch'd 
 Impatiently for dawn ; 
 The environs of Guise were.near'd 
 As rose the smiling morn. 
 How swelled my heart with ecstasy, 
 When, from a neighboring height, 
 I saw a marching multitude — 
 The army in its might ! 
 
CANTO IV. 153 
 
 On burnish'd helms and lances flashed 
 The sun's first rising beams ; 
 Their countless steel-clad forms gave back 
 His rays in glittering streams. 
 
 One hour before from Guise were gone 
 The Queen and all her suite ; 
 To overtake them ere they met, 
 On sped my coursers fleet. 
 The tedious road now wound its course 
 Amongst a mountain-chain ; 
 It circumscribed my eager gaze, 
 And hid the martial plain. 
 
 I long'd for wings to waft me on ; 
 My blood impatient boii'd, 
 As through the intricate defiles 
 My panting horses toil'd. 
 "They all are there/' internally 
 I sigh'd, "all, all but I ! 
 
 X 
 
154 LOUISE. 
 
 What if my absence seem to him 
 A new attempt to fly?" 
 
 At length we issued from the gorge ;- 
 The plain before me spread, 
 Covered with France's chivalry, 
 The victor at their head. 
 And isolated, in advance, 
 Was seen a brilliant troop ; 
 My heart proclaimed His Majesty 
 The centre of that group. 
 I saw the Queen's advancing train 
 Still at a distance yet ; 
 A wild idea upon me seized, 
 To join him ere they met. 
 
 On — on — and my conjecture's truth 
 A nearer view reveal'd, 
 Till but one barrier parted us — 
 A stony, new-plough'd field. 
 
CANTO IV. 155 
 
 " Cross here ! " I cried. Undauntedly 
 My bold postilions drive, 
 Plunge bravely on, 'gainst obstacles 
 The mettled horses strive. 
 My heavy coach, sway'd to and fro, 
 Surmounting scatter'd rocks, 
 Each movement threatened to overturn, 
 With fierce, recurring shocks. 
 What matter, if my end were gain'd ! 
 For in the coach alone 
 No other precious life I risk'd, 
 I perilFd but my own. 
 
 On — on ; as I transported found 
 But little space divide, 
 A sudden motion overthrew 
 The carriage on its side. 
 Great the concussion, greater still 
 My servitors' alarm ; 
 They raised me, unsubdued, though bruised, — 
 
156 LOUISE. 
 
 Contusions on my arm 
 
 Scarce heeded, for in one desire 
 
 My thoughts and feelings merged ; 
 
 With prayers and bribes to right the coach, 
 
 The scared attendants urged. 
 
 'Twas done; the tired steeds anew 
 
 To fresh exertions lash'd, 
 
 Unhesitating to the goal 
 
 O'er stones and ridges dash'd. 
 
 O rapture ! for by Louis now 
 My equipage was seen ! 
 He galopp'd forward, frown' d, and spoke : 
 " What ! here before the Queen ! " 
 Unlook'd for greeting ! I remained 
 Benuxnb'd and petrified ; 
 He bow'd, and turn'd his charger's head, 
 To seek his Consort's side. 
 Could I be dreaming? where was I? 
 In slumber or awake? 
 
CANTO IV. 157 
 
 Some fearful nightmare held me fast 
 
 In bonds I could not break. 
 
 Ah, no ! 'twas sad reality ! 
 
 A dark, appalling void, — 
 
 That frown and disapproving glance 
 
 My life, my hopes destroyed. 
 
 Like lightning flashed before my eyes 
 
 The overwhelming fact ; 
 
 A rushing tide of memories 
 
 My tortured spirit rack'd. 
 
 His coldness, frequent reveries, 
 
 Their origin too clear ; 
 
 I was no longer loved — perchance 
 
 A rival held more dear ; 
 
 Oh ! after seven years of life, 
 
 Spent brooding o'er this thought, 
 
 I cannot yet be reconciled 
 
 To bear it as I ought. 
 
 Spell-bound/mid whirl of maddening thought, 
 
158 LOUISE. 
 
 I mark'd not passing scenes ; 
 
 But found my coach, I knew not how, 
 
 Removed behind the Queen's. 
 
 A sense of my delinquency 
 
 Burn'd deeply in my brain ; 
 
 I wish/d that instant to retreat, 
 
 And hide me at Compiegne. 
 
 I roused to give abrupt command 
 To turn the coach about ; 
 When tones, but too familiar, came 
 Resounding from without. 
 "Why risk thy life in such attempt, 
 Imprudent — most unwise ? " 
 A shadow of embarrassment 
 He labored to disguise. 
 Back in the coach I sank ; my face 
 Against its cushions pressed, 
 The paroxysms of bitter sobs 
 All powerless to arrest. 
 
CANTO IY. 159 
 
 The King divined the whole, and moved 
 His own excuse to plead ; 
 Touched with compunction and remorse, 
 Dismounted from his steed. 
 The carriage door flew open ; in 
 Precipitate he sprung, 
 To clasp me close, impetuously 
 His arm around me flung. 
 A poignant thrill of agony- 
 Ran through me at his touch ; 
 My injured arm, uncared for, left 
 In mental chaos such. 
 The sudden pressure forced a cry, 
 "Which I could not restrain ; 
 He started back : " My own Louise ! 
 What ! wounded and in pain ? 
 Oh, guilty I indeed have been!" 
 As in despair he cried: 
 " Be my physician summoned here, 
 And remedies applied/' 
 
160 LOUISE. 
 
 With look of tenderest reproach, 
 
 I answered him, " Not there — 
 
 Not there my wound most cruel lies, 
 
 Most difficult to bear/' 
 
 He heard me scarce ; in urgent haste 
 
 Tow'rd the coach window leant, 
 
 Commanding instantaneously 
 
 His surgeon hither sent. 
 
 A moment brought him to my aid, 
 
 Obsequious, alert ; 
 
 He view'd my arm, pronounced it sprain'd, 
 
 And not a little hurt. 
 
 In ligatures, with utmost care, 
 The injured limb he bound ; 
 For Louis watch'd with troubled air 
 And interest profound. 
 Through pangs severe, to spare him pain, 
 I feign'd apparent ease ; 
 All finished, he remained, and me 
 
CANTO IV. 161 
 
 Accompanied to Guise. 
 
 Upon the way he lavished words 
 
 Of love and deep regret ; 
 
 Yet mark'd I in his mien constraint 
 
 That seem'd to chafe and fret. 
 
 Arrived at Guise, he ordered me, 
 
 The best hotel secured, 
 
 His surgeon closely to attend 
 
 Until my wounds were cured. 
 
 Short time the Court remained at Guise, 
 But ah ! too long for me ; 
 His strange indifference became 
 More plain each day to see. 
 No longer jealous fantasy, 
 Conviction strong and clear ; 
 His mood was dull and spiritless, 
 Till Athenais drew near. 
 I've seen the color mount his cheek 
 To meet her radiant smiles ; — 
 
162 LOUISE. 
 
 So beautiful, could aught resist 
 
 Her fascinating wiles? 
 
 Those features, faultless, regular ; 
 
 That forehead, white as snow ! 
 
 Ah ! who could guess the treachery 
 
 That darkly lurk'd below ? 
 
 Oh, cruel pangs of jealousy 
 Experienced that hour ! 
 They seized on me, their helpless prey, 
 To rend and to devour. 
 Yet not one sentence of complaint 
 To mortal ear I breathed ; 
 My lips, to mask my bleeding heart, 
 In hollow smiles were wreathed. 
 But circumstances interposed 
 To lessen present pain ; 
 The King, to learn his army's state, 
 Must visit it again. 
 The Queen and Court, at Compiegne, 
 
CANTO IY. 163 
 
 Awaiting him, sojourn' cl. 
 
 To Paris, with his sanction, I 
 
 My weary footsteps turn'd. 
 
 Before me, with her infant charge, 
 
 Was Madame Colbert gone : 
 
 In mind and body ill at ease, 
 
 I followed them alone, 
 
 Worn out with various sufferings ; 
 
 But in th' absorbing whirl, 
 
 One solace, one resource was left — 
 
 My child, my cherub girl. 
 
 Each morn I rose, in futile hope 
 
 Of letters, ne'er received. 
 
 Each night, o'er his forgetfulness 
 
 In solitude I grieved. 
 
 Oft, fired with jealous vehemence, 
 I vow'd for aye to flee ; - 
 But duties, soon to be increased, 
 Remained to fetter me. 
 
164 LOUISE. 
 
 I knew another dawning life 
 Solicitude must claim ; 
 Another innocent, to share 
 Its mother's lot of shame. 
 
 My wretchedness, toward the King 
 Had rendered me unjust ; 
 Ev'n his affection for his child 
 I ventured to distrust. 
 The strength of his paternal love 
 In secret I suspected, 
 To leave his children, like myself, 
 Forgotten and neglected. 
 Yes ! 'twas unjust ! No father could 
 Be more indulgent — fond : 
 I rashly from the present judged, 
 Unfit to look beyond. 
 
 Half frantic projects cross'd my brain 
 Now to a Convent fled, 
 
CANTO IV. 1G5 
 
 My infants, sacrilegiously, 
 
 Before the altars led ; — 
 
 Now leaving them for evermore, 
 
 A cloister refuge gave, 
 
 And I, transported, found myself 
 
 Closed in that living grave. 
 
 It soothed me, — not the calm alone 
 
 Which yields that holy state ; 
 
 The certainty to cause the King 
 
 Regrets, severe, though late. 
 
 Once, who had thought such sentiments 
 
 Could dwell within my heart? 
 
 What sacrifice, wherein remorse 
 
 Hath borne so small a part? 
 
 O'er purposes, thus undefined 
 And varying, I brooded. 
 Meantime, the King to Paris brought 
 The terms of peace concluded. 
 I spoke not of his silence cold : 
 
166 LOUISE. 
 
 I seem'd to lose the right 
 
 Even of reproach, — through his reserve 
 
 Intimidated quite. 
 
 He, in affected gaiety, 
 
 Before observers shone ; 
 
 'Twas ill-conceard embarrassment 
 
 Whene'er with me alone. 
 
 Upon the circle of the Queen 
 But rarely I intruded ; 
 Retired within my palace, dwelt, 
 From public gaze secluded. 
 At length, they sought the King for me. 
 He came without delay 
 To greet the child, that, born to him, 
 Beside its mother lay. 
 His joy dispelled the air constrained 
 That late oppressed me oft ; 
 His tender assiduities, 
 Affectionate and soft, 
 
CANTO IV. 
 
 167 
 
 Cajoled me with the transient hope 
 Of my lost treasure won. 
 Alas ! his care was not for me, 
 But only for his son ! 
 
 --' ,-^~v— ., 
 
 

 CANTO V, 
 
 Oh, weary task, and profitless ! 
 To trace my sad career ; 
 The ever-fluctuating hopes 
 That rose to disappear. 
 These memories, importunate, 
 
CANTO Y. 169 
 
 All better thoughts impede, 
 
 And through the lamentable Past 
 
 My recollections lead. 
 
 I feel myself a voyager 
 
 O'er broad and unknown lands ; 
 
 O'er beaches, where the traveler's foot 
 
 Falls soft upon the sands ; — 
 
 Across fair plains and meadows, clothed 
 
 In robes of living green, 
 
 Where scented flowers, luxuriant, 
 
 On every side are seen. 
 
 Enchanted with the lovely views - 
 
 That compass him around, 
 
 He sees not in the distance, far, 
 
 The rivers wide — profound; — 
 
 The mountains inaccessible, 
 
 Whose summits he must cross, — 
 
 Must leave the valleys, rich in grass, 
 
 And carpeted with moss, 
 
 For steep ascents, where flinty stones 
 
170. LOUISE. 
 
 The foot-sore pilgrim fret, 
 
 Who, fainting, to his earlier path 
 
 Looks backward with regret ; — 
 
 Compares the pleasant regions pass'd, 
 
 With perils now in store ; 
 
 And, at the retrospection, grows 
 
 The contrast yet the more.' 
 
 Thus am I now — such wanderer 
 
 Resembling, in sooth ; 
 
 The verdant plains and flow'ry meads 
 
 Are past, of early youth. 
 
 Before me lie the rivers deep, 
 
 The mountain heights sublime ! 
 
 Oh, who will give the strength I need 
 
 Up those ascents to climb ! 
 
 What mockery, to deck myself 
 For masquerade and ball, 
 Where Jealousy's envenomed touch 
 Turn'd pleasure into gall ! 
 
CANTO V. 171 
 
 My rival's growing influence 
 The King's neglect augmented ; 
 His lightest word addressed to me 
 She haughtily resented. 
 Still unrelaxing gaieties 
 And brilliant fetes invite ; — 
 I quitted them with aching heart, 
 To weep the livelong night. 
 
 Or, sicken'd with harassing feuds, 
 Of fruitless contests tired, 
 I shut me in my Palace close, 
 Prom rivalry retired. 
 Empty resolve ! its vanity 
 Too soon, too clearly shown ; 
 The evening came, and, gloomy, left 
 Companionless — alone, 
 My restless spirit vividly 
 Fair Athenais portrayed ; 
 Triumphant in her beauty's bloom, 
 
172 LOUISE. 
 
 And gorgeously array'd. 
 
 I pictured other graceful forms 
 
 Around the Monarch flit ; — 
 
 These vague imaginings to me 
 
 Nor peace nor rest admit. 
 
 My spirit writhed, in jealousy 
 
 And bitterness immersed ; 
 
 I recklessly rush'd forth, at once 
 
 To know and brave the worst. 
 
 The Palace shone with myriad lights, 
 For festival illumed ; 
 In mask and garb fantastical 
 Th' assembled Court costumed. 
 In guise of Scottish shepherdess 
 Attired, and closely mask'd, 
 The curiosity of all 
 Ingeniously I task'd 
 To prove identity, beneath 
 This fanciful disguise ; 
 
CANTO V. 173 
 
 Even the most sagacious faiM 
 
 To know or recognise. 
 
 And witty repartees, called forth 
 
 By questioners expert, 
 
 The motley pageant, served awhile 
 
 My senses to divert. 
 
 But still I sought, among the crowd, 
 
 A form I could not find, — 
 
 One form, to which no foreign garb 
 
 The eyes of Love could blind. 
 
 At length a palmer, grave and dark, 
 
 Beside me took his stand : 
 
 " Whence, pilgrim, comest thou ? " I said, 
 
 " From what far distant land ? " 
 
 Unhesitating, he replied, 
 
 " From Cytherea's home, 
 
 Where I have been to sacrifice, 
 
 And offer vows, I come/' 
 
 " But wherefore/' I again inquired, 
 
 "Bold votary of Love, 
 
174 LOUISE. 
 
 So soon forsake the goddess' shrine? 
 
 Desert her chosen grove ? " 
 
 "Fair shepherdess, condemn me not, 
 
 But list my true defence; 
 
 I fain had sojourn/ d there, but ah ! 
 
 A king compelled me thence/' 
 
 "A king — a king/' I murmur'd low. 
 " Ah, yes ! but wherefore sigh ? 
 Art also by a king oppressed, 
 Poor shepherdess, as I ? 
 The fable of the violet 
 And king, dost chance to know? 
 A touching tale, forsooth, would cause 
 Thy pitying tears to flow/' 
 
 " That fable now relate to me ! 
 Quick, learned pilgrim, say ! " 
 
 "The violet was pluck'd at morn, 
 
CANTO V. 175 
 
 At evening flung away ; — 
 A monarch cull'd the modest flower 
 Capricious from him cast. — 
 Adieu, my gentle shepherdess ! " 
 The pilgrim said, and pass'd. 
 
 I was about to follow him, 
 To high excitement wrought ; 
 When Mademoiselle, who intervened, 
 His arm impatient caught. 
 No need of explanation now, 
 'Twas given by Mademoiselle; 
 The exile from the Courts of Love, 
 I knew De Lauzun well. 
 Just then the dancing recommenced ; 
 I, troubled and perplexed, 
 Ask'd of my promised partner grace, 
 A respite to the next. 
 My roused suspicions rendered me 
 Unfit for dance or glare ; 
 
17G LOUISE. 
 
 I sat me near a casement down, 
 
 To seek repose and air. 
 
 I had been there some moments, hid 
 
 By draperies to the floor, 
 
 When two mask'd figures stationed them 
 
 My hiding-place before. 
 
 I rose to issue forth, and sought 
 
 Apology to frame, 
 
 When, 'mid their low. discourse, I heard 
 
 The echo of my name. 
 
 I shuddered at the voice that spoke- 
 I held my breath, nor stirr'd — 
 And listened with avidity 
 To each perfidious word. 
 "Your Majesty must grant me leave 
 Full credence to refuse. 
 Decide ; betwixt her love and mine, 
 The time has come to choose ! " 
 "Is not the choice already made? 
 
CANTO V. 177 
 
 Can aught with thee compete?" 
 "How know I that? To all you seem 
 Still prostrate at her feet/' 
 "A little homage, yes, for her, 
 But truest love is thine ! 
 Thou, Athenais, alone, I swear, 
 Adorable — divine ! " 
 
 I heard no more. Through all my veins, 
 Arrested, froze the blood ; 
 Then to my heart, with lightning force, 
 Rush'd back the crimson flood. 
 All objects swam before me ; deep 
 The bitter chalice quafFd ; 
 Then, in complete unconsciousness, 
 Lost memory of the draught. 
 
 What would have done another then ? 
 Ah, tell me not of those 
 Who, firmly and courageously, 
 
 A A 
 
178 LOUISE. 
 
 All earthly ties can close ; — 
 Who, with a single master-stroke, 
 The strongest chains can rend, 
 And every sinful weakness can 
 In one brave moment end. 
 That strength, sublime, heroical, 
 Was not on me bestow' d, — 
 Without regret or backward glance 
 To walk the narrow road. 
 I must have time to nerve myself 
 For sacrifice ; and when 
 The hour, the final hour, arrived, 
 I could go forward then. 
 
 Though to my lover's perfidy 
 Thus painfully enlightened, 
 Faint, transitory rays, at times, 
 My sombre visions brightened. 
 Fallacious theories I form'd, 
 Oft nourishing the hope 
 
CANTO V. 179 
 
 To win him back, if chance allowed 
 
 To grant my feelings scope. 
 
 Nor was an opportunity 
 
 Long wanting, to give vent 
 
 To griefs accumulated, close 
 
 Within my bosom pent. 
 
 The barrier of reserve once past, 
 
 I wept, complained, and sigh'd ; 
 
 Unmoved and harsh, he silenced me, 
 
 And angrily replied : 
 
 " Madam, enough ! Require you then 
 
 My every act explained ? 
 
 Truce to these scenes ! I love you well, 
 
 But will not be constrained." 
 
 Oh ! with what accent, with what tone 
 
 These cruel words were spoken ! 
 
 The heart that gave its all to him 
 
 Was crushed and well-nigh broken. 
 
 Would, Holy Virgin, patroness, — 
 
 Would, from that hour surrendered 
 
180 LOUISE. 
 
 My life, affections, all — had been 
 To thy pure service tendered ! 
 But no. I was not penitent. 
 Not for my sins I wept ; 
 OfPring unworthy, incomplete, 
 Ne'er couldst thou deign accept. 
 
 I reasoned to content myself 
 And better days foresee, 
 When Time, that works all miracles, 
 Might bring him back to me. 
 Closed in my precincts, to acquire 
 The calm seclusion lends, 
 I had my children, and beside 
 A few still faithful friends. 
 Friends, do I say ? Few, few indeed 
 Remembered me, or cared, 
 'Mid their career, to pause and ask 
 How their late idol fared. 
 Only De Longueville's gallant Duke 
 
CANTO V. 181 
 
 Hours from his pleasures stole, 
 The Hotel Biron's mistress sad 
 To visit and console. 
 
 From this rare conduct, busy tongues 
 Fail'd not reports to frame, — 
 In nuptial projects join with mine 
 De Longueville's honored name. 
 Rumors by me unheeded, view'd 
 As light, unfounded jest ; 
 Until mistaken zeal of friends 
 Th' unwelcome subject pressed. 
 Fortune and highest rank were hers 
 Who held his plighted troth ; 
 To such alliance, they declared, 
 The Duke was nothing loth. 
 It was their wish to break my chains, 
 Know me with honor wed. 
 Far different the lonely path 
 I destined me to tread. 
 
182 LOUISE. 
 
 They little knew, who deem'd his suit 
 
 Twould cost me to deny : 
 
 Not all De Longueville's boasted wealth 
 
 This stricken heart could buy. 
 
 I loved him as a sister should, 
 
 The gen'rous and the kind ; 
 
 Truly I mourn'd that noble life 
 
 On battle-field resigned. 
 
 By Issel's blood-dyed stream, afar 
 
 From France's sunny clime, 
 
 A champion for his country's rights, 
 
 He perish'd in his prime. 
 
 Though the whole nation tribute paid, 
 
 Lamenting o'er his bier, 
 
 And to his childless mother gave 
 
 Its sympathies sincere, 
 
 None more than I her sorrow shared — 
 
 None more than I could tell 
 
 Th' irreparable loss to France, 
 
 When her young hero fell. 
 
CANTO V. 183 
 
 From sad, though grateful reveries, 
 Must' Memory, with disgust, 
 To worldly enmities revert ? 
 O stern decree, it must ! 
 
 The Marquise, all predominant 
 And overbearing, now 
 Before her star ascendant, caused 
 All lesser orbs to bow. 
 Capricious and tyrannical, 
 She gloried to display 
 A power each cringing courtier 
 Pressed forward to obey. 
 Her virulence unequalled, plans 
 To persecute me, laid ; 
 The sanctuary of my home 
 She blush'd not to invade. 
 Could she not suffer me in peace 
 A lonely course pursue ? 
 In vain to stricter privacy 
 
184 LOUISE. 
 
 I, resolute, withdrew, 
 
 To shun encounters ill-advised : 
 
 She, insolently rude, 
 
 Her presence, spite repulse, on me 
 
 Would constantly obtrude. 
 
 The perturbation, scarce allay'd, 
 
 Arouse, and leave me shorn 
 
 Of consolation, desperate, 
 
 By evil passions torn. 
 
 Urged to extremity, to bay 
 By wanton insults driven, 
 Orders to bar her entrance there, 
 My servitors were given. 
 But in her malice foiFd — enraged,— 
 A feasible pretence 
 Furnished for accusation, these 
 My efforts at defence. 
 Instant to Louis made complaint ; 
 Wept, clamor'd to excess, 
 
CANTO V. 185 
 
 His all-supreme authority 
 
 Invoked, for her redress. 
 
 Her power to move his sympathies, 
 
 Exulting, calculated ; 
 
 My late precaution's overthrow 
 
 From his reproof awaited. 
 
 Alas ! could Louis thus be changed ? 
 And had it come to this • 
 That he could undisguisedly 
 All care for me dismiss? 
 Twas true, too true! Experience gave 
 My lingering trust the lie ; 
 And the dark mem'ry of that scene 
 Will haunt me till I die. 
 
 It was a lovely Summer morn, 
 The genial month of June ; 
 I heard the birds, in very joy, 
 Their swelling throats attune. 
 
 B B 
 
UG LOUISE. 
 
 One portion of my mansion form'd 
 
 A spacious portico ; 
 
 There, daily, to enjoy their sports, 
 
 My children used to go. 
 
 Few steps, from thence, to terraces 
 
 And marble fountains led. 
 
 The graceful swans that floated there 
 
 By their small hands were fed. 
 
 A favorite resort to me ; — 
 
 There, seated in the shade, 
 
 I might observe, with love and pride, 
 
 My children as they play'd. 
 
 My dark-eyed Marie Anne, whose face 
 
 Her royal lineage told ; 
 
 The little, restless, Vermandois, 
 
 With clustering curls of gold, 
 
 Through which, like violets, 'mid their leaves, 
 
 Look'd up his eyes of blue, — 
 
 More promising and fair each day 
 
 These tender blossoms grew. 
 
CANTO V. 187 
 
 Secured against my foe that morn, 
 I felt me reassured, 
 Thus inoffensive and apart 
 From the gay world immured. 
 The little pair on cushions sat, 
 Beside them Genevieve, 
 Gay wreaths of variegated flowers 
 Assisting them to weave. 
 While from the group, in merriment, 
 Rang childhood's laughing peal, 
 A soothing, melancholy charm 
 Seem'd over me to steal. 
 
 I was again a happy child 
 Among my native bowers ; 
 Roved with my brother hand in hand, 
 And gathered early flowers. 
 I saw my mother turn on us 
 Her fond, approving look ; 
 To share our pastimes, lay aside 
 
188 LOUISE. 
 
 Embroidery or book. 
 
 Scene after scene before me pass'd — 
 
 The formal garden walks ; 
 
 The dim old chapel, where, 'tis said, 
 
 A spectre warrior stalks. 
 
 And the old armory, where hung 
 
 The coats of mail, and shields 
 
 Worn when my knightly ancestors 
 
 Rode forth to battle-fields. 
 
 Legends our ancient servants told 
 
 Of tournament and fight, 
 
 Where, ever stood La Valliere's Lord 
 
 To combat for the Right. 
 
 My brother s young enthusiasm, 
 
 As ardently he swore 
 
 With his oWn sword to emulate 
 
 The valiant deeds of yore. 
 
 Then rose our Castle turrets gray, 
 
 Which last I gazed upon, 
 
 In the receding landscape seen 
 
CANTO V. 189 
 
 By beams of setting sun. 
 
 Thus as I mused, inaudible 
 Became my children's words ; 
 Lost to my faculties absorbed, 
 Like distant notes of birds. 
 Absent in spirit, I pursued 
 The retrospective track, 
 Those days of peace and innocence 
 That nought could summon back. 
 
 Sudden upon my ear there came 
 An unexpected sound : 
 Th' illusion into air dissolved, 
 Which my rapt senses bound. 
 Twas but a voice, most musical, 
 Yet through my being thrill'd, 
 As, with an instant palsy stroke, 
 My heart's pulsations still'd. 
 Curtains that mask'd the entrance, raised, 
 
190 LOUISE. 
 
 Th' approaching King disclose ; — 
 
 Acknowledging his presence, I 
 
 Mechanically rose. 
 
 Moved — indescribably confused, 
 
 And troubled, on him glanced ; 
 
 As ever, grand, magnificent 
 
 In bearing, he advanced : 
 
 Coldly pronounced, as heeding not 
 
 My flushed and changing cheek, 
 
 " Madam, be seated ! and your ear 
 
 Accord me while I speak ! " 
 
 I heard ; his frigid aspect mark'd, 
 Prepared myself for all ; — 
 Low as I was, imagined not 
 In lower depths to fall. 
 My little girl, whose instinct fear'd 
 Some vague, unknown mishap, 
 Clung close to me, her timid head 
 Hiding upon my lap. 
 
CANTO V. 191 
 
 I trembled much. Perceiving, he 
 Resumed in tones more bland : 
 "You should receive the Marquise here, 
 Accede to her demand. 
 She would be friendly, deeming you 
 By false ideas beguiled ; 
 Sends me as mediator here — 
 Longs to be reconciled/' 
 
 I listened to him, rivetting 
 My gaze upon that spot ; 
 Mute and transfixed, immoveable, 
 I heard, but answered not. 
 "For such dissensions/' he rejom/d, 
 "Both grieve and injure her; — 
 Will you the small petition grant 
 I in her name prefer 1" 
 " Ah, yes ! " reproachful, I exclaimed, 
 Thrown wholly off my guard ; 
 "My youth, my soul to you I gave, 
 
192 LOUISE. 
 
 And this is my reward ! " 
 
 " Reward ! " he cried. " What luxuries 
 
 Or pleasures have you lack'd ? 
 
 Your every wish forestalled, from me 
 
 What more can you exact?" 
 
 "When Madame's maid of honor, Sire, 
 
 Recall your solemn oath, 
 
 Your protests of fidelity, 
 
 And judge between us both/' 
 
 He had arisen from his seat, 
 Was pacing up and down ; 
 Upon his brow, contracted, knit, 
 Sat indignation's frown. 
 At Madame' s name, thus from my lips 
 In accusation dropped, 
 Ceasing his hasty promenade, 
 Exasperate he stopped. 
 " The Princess ! Ay, recall those days, 
 That leniency display ; — 
 
CANTO V. 193 
 
 TV indulgence you from her desired 
 Extend to Athenais ! " 
 
 In apathetic silence, I 
 Received this mortal blow ; 
 Avowal unreserved of that 
 I long refused to know. 
 His irate glance encountering mine, 
 So menacing and hard, 
 Of reconcilement and of love 
 All latent hope debarred. 
 
 Gone was the courage that gave strength 
 My adverse fate to stem ; 
 Dejectedly I answered him, 
 " Your orders thus condemn 
 To an abhorrent task, which I 
 Would fain misunderstand, 
 Chains to another binding you 
 
 To forge with mine own hand/' 
 
 c c 
 
194 LOUISE. 
 
 Then ceased — 'twas useless more to add ; 
 If aught could yet avail 
 To touch his heart, my countenance, 
 So sorrow-stricken, pale ; 
 The anguish irrepressible 
 Upon its lines depicted, 
 Had on his conscience, if unsear'd, 
 Reproaches sharp inflicted. 
 But no relenting thoughts were prompt 
 His wrath to disabuse ; — 
 Resistance o'er, why further speech 
 In altercation use? 
 
 Thus to abasement's lowest depths 
 Behold me fallen at last ; 
 In recklessness, all self-respect 
 Unheeded, from me cast. 
 Fear of entire abandonment 
 Inspired so great a dread, 
 Rather to every thing imposed 
 
CAA T TO V. 195 
 
 Submitting me instead. 
 
 I visited my rival, must 
 
 To amity pretend ; 
 
 Received her at my house — became 
 
 Her slave — her humble friend ; 
 
 Bore her ill-humors passively, 
 
 Attempted not to carp 
 
 At most unreasonable whims, 
 
 Or railleries most sharp. 
 
 Caresses condescending mark'd 
 
 The parts we had to play ; 
 
 She, the proud favorite, and I 
 
 Her timid protegee. 
 
 Oh, the Marquise's love for me 
 Was admirable — rare — 
 Even required my services, 
 My skill to deck her hair ! 
 Declared herself unsatisfied, 
 Adorn'd however much. 
 
196 LOUISE. 
 
 Unless I waited at her side, 
 To give the final touch. 
 
 Yes ! this degrading servitude 
 I was content to brook, 
 For one kind sentence from the King, 
 Or one approving look. 
 Still in his public conduct could 
 No caviller detect 
 The least discourtesy to me, 
 Or failure in respect ; — 
 Treatment that, to a loving heart, 
 Gives more exquisite pain, 
 More cruel, insupportable, 
 Than anger and disdain. 
 Because the acts thus balanced, weighed, 
 Too plain their motives prove, 
 And show return impossible 
 To confidence and love. 
 Though overwhelmed and groaning, 'neath 
 
CANTO V. 197 
 
 My bitter sorrows' weight, 
 
 I hush'd my sighs — forced back my tears — 
 
 His calm to emulate. 
 
 And Louis vie w'd complacently 
 
 This studied self-control ; — 
 
 Oh, could he but have had the power 
 
 To read within my soul ! 
 
 Can efforts, thus unnatural 
 And violent, endure ? 
 Deep melancholy supervened, 
 No remedies could cure. 
 I droop'd and withered visibly 
 Beneath this fell disease ; 
 If noticed, fail'd to simulate 
 Tranquillity or ease. 
 Questioned by interested friends, 
 No answer sought to frame ; 
 Indifferent and deaf alike 
 To sympathy and blame. 
 
198 LOUISE. 
 
 To rouse me from this torpor came 
 A terrible event, 
 
 Warning the careless with a voice 
 Sublimely eloquent. 
 Oh, vanity of vanities ! 
 The Jewish prophet sings ; 
 Oh, utter instability 
 Of earth and earthly things ! 
 
 Of Europe's two most brilliant Courts 
 The ornament and pride, 
 The Princess Henrietta, struck 
 With sudden illness, died. 
 And dark suspicions of the cause, 
 And whispered rumors spread, 
 Of charges by the Duchess brought 
 Upon her dying bed. 
 That poison had procured her death 
 She steadily avouch'd ; 
 In clear, uncompromising terms 
 
CANTO V. 199 
 
 Her declaration couch'd. 
 In vain besought for antidotes 
 To cool her fever's rage ; 
 Her agonising sufferings 
 No healing arts assuage. 
 
 Those lovely features, livid, changed, 
 I gazed upon— appall' d ■ — 
 What if I, too, thus unprepared, 
 Before my Judge were calM 
 To answer for my heinous sins 
 Against His perfect law ! 
 Such meditations stirr'd my soul 
 With apprehensive awe. 
 Before me images of death 
 And dire perdition keep ; 
 Were present through the cheerless day, 
 And haunted me in sleep. 
 
 I strove to banish them ; at times 
 
200 LOUISE. 
 
 Of strict seclusion dreamt, 
 
 Wherein no animosities 
 
 Or jealousies could tempt ; — 
 
 Where evil passions could not rise, 
 
 By charity destroyed ; — 
 
 Where peace and holy friendship reign' d, 
 
 And Faith was unalloy'd. 
 
 Toward Chaillot's Convent, undeterred, 
 My inclinations flow'd ; 
 I panted at the Cross's foot 
 To lay my heavy load. 
 But different my friends' advice. 
 My mother's, too, combined, 
 Who, in her child's adversity, 
 To clemency inclined ; 
 Against my guilty happiness 
 Had sternly set her face ; 
 But turn'd again to comfort me, 
 When lone and in disgrace. 
 
CANTO V. 201 
 
 She offered to retire with me, 
 In privacy remain, 
 My children tend and educate 
 Within my own domain. 
 I thought that none could disapprove 
 Such unpretending scheme ; 
 Prudent and moderate, remote 
 Alike from each extreme. 
 Nought stay'd me but the Monarch's will 
 In private to consult ; 
 And wholly unprepared was I 
 To meet with ill-result. 
 
 I ask'd a special interview, 
 My cause to represent ; 
 Not doubting from His Majesty 
 At once to gain consent. 
 I struggled for composure — used 
 Upon my feelings force, 
 Unfaltering to submit to him 
 
 D D 
 
202 LOUISE. 
 
 My purposed future course. 
 
 He heard me to the end — then spoke 
 
 As in impatient mood : 
 
 " Remember, Madam, you are young 
 
 To live in solitude ! " 
 
 "My mother, Sire, accompanies me, 
 
 To guide me and protect ; 
 
 Whose age my inexperience 
 
 Is fitted to direct/' 
 
 " Your mother ! From her wisdom, then, 
 
 This fine proposal sprung ? 
 
 No, Madam ! I refuse consent ! 
 
 Consider you too young, 
 
 Too handsome to be trusted thus 
 
 Upon your simple word ; — 
 
 Renounce the plan ! it suits me not ! 
 
 Preposterous ! absurd ! " 
 
 What could he mean, the little left 
 
 In life, from me to bar, 
 
 And drag me, like a captive slave, 
 
CANTO V. 203 
 
 At his triumphal car ? 
 
 Oh, misery ! what language known 
 Can paint my state of mind ? 
 Ah, whither must the wounded dove 
 Escape, a rest to find ! 
 For days no being near me, save 
 A sympathising mother, 
 My restless anguish could endure — 
 I shrank from every other. 
 In this abyss of wretchedness, 
 The Holy Virgin blest 
 Look'd down upon the hapless one 
 By guilt and woe opprest. 
 Forsaken by the world, and held 
 By worldlings in derision ; 
 Sent to her solace and relief 
 A soul-inspiring vision. 
 Let sceptics jest, philosophers 
 Be of their wisdom vain ; 
 
204 LOUISE. 
 
 The mysteries of Providence 
 I seek not to explain. 
 I only know the thing befel, 
 But cannot answer how : 
 Before His ways inscrutable, 
 In humble faith I bow. 
 
 I dream'd that in a chapel strange, 
 A group of nuns in white 
 I saw, with tapers in their hands, 
 Emitting floods of light. 
 Voices of sweetest melody 
 Their chants harmonious sang ; 
 In concert on my ravish/d ear 
 The heavenly music rang. 
 In sleep I mused, while sounded yet 
 These holy virgins' psalm ; 
 Admired each placid countenance, 
 So saint-like and so calm. 
 The happiness depicted there, 
 
CANTO V. 205 
 
 Seeni'd ever to increase ; 
 
 I envied their serenity, 
 
 Their all-pervading peace. 
 
 The impress left me by this dream 
 
 Was durable and strong, 
 
 Its salutary influence 
 
 My waking thoughts prolong ; 
 
 At frequent intervals returned, 
 
 Foreshadowing to my mind 
 
 The merciful deliverance 
 
 That Heaven for me designed. 
 
 My mother, anxious, watching me, 
 Proposed, for change of scene, 
 A visit to a Convent near, 
 Where I had never been. 
 I yielded to her instances, 
 Impassive gave consent ; 
 All places were alike to me, — 
 I cared not where I went. 
 
206 • LOUISE. 
 
 What, then, was my astonishment, 
 
 Amounting to affright, 
 
 When, entering the chapel, lo, 
 
 The white-robed Carmelite ! 
 
 The same wax tapers in their hands 
 
 With mellow' d radiance gleam ; 
 
 The same celestial music heard 
 
 That charm'd me in my dream. 
 
 Could this be but coincidence, 
 As human reason taught? 
 Or token supernatural, 
 To indicate the port 
 Where Heaven itself the wanderer 
 Had led ? I meekly knelt, 
 And in my orisons breathed forth 
 The gratitude I felt. 
 Petitioning increase of grace 
 To counsel me and guide, 
 And grant a haven to my soul, 
 
CANTO V. 207 
 
 Which hostile earth denied. 
 
 Strengthened in spirit, I arose. 
 My mother, too, surveyed 
 Surprised, the transformation wrought, 
 My countenance portrayed. 
 That evening, in confessional, 
 My fervor yet increased, 
 This incident miraculous 
 Recounting to the priest. 
 
 He hearkened to the wondrous tale, 
 Essay 'd not to refute ; 
 Declared its true significance 
 Reveal'd, beyond dispute, 
 That one were blind indeed, who could 
 Such evidence withstand; 
 Given by the great overruling Power, 
 From His paternal hand. 
 His pious words I ponder'd, sought 
 
208 
 
 LOUISE. 
 
 The means to disenthral 
 
 My soul from bondage, and accept 
 
 The sweet and heavenly call. 
 
CANTO VI. 
 
 Without delay I gave myself 
 To study, and reflect 
 On pious truths, unheeded long ; 
 Endeavor'd to subject 
 
 E E 
 
210 LOUISE. 
 
 Myself to strict observances ; 
 
 More fervent zeal incite ; 
 
 Long voluntary vigils keep, 
 
 To wear away the night. 
 
 Withdrew myself insensibly 
 
 From company profane ; 
 
 Those worldly ones avoided now 
 
 Whose counsels wrought my bane. 
 
 I could no longer serve their ends, 
 
 Ambitious views promote. 
 
 Must they impede the soul that long'd 
 
 Its new-born powers devote 
 
 To raise the temple of a Faith 
 
 Built on the living Rock? — 
 
 Must they, with biting sarcasm's sting, 
 
 These aspirations mock? 
 
 The Marquise laugh'd the whole to scorn, 
 And sneer' d, with ridicule, 
 EVn to my face — designing thus 
 
CANTO VI. 211 
 
 Enthusiasm to cool 
 
 That with her schemes accorded not ; 
 
 Was urgent to dissuade 
 
 The seeker for the better path 
 
 From which we both had stray'd. 
 
 My onward progress to arrest, 
 
 Used gibe and menace blent ; 
 
 A course of life contrasting hers, 
 
 Determined to prevent : 
 
 "This new-made Duchess feigns herself 
 
 A staid, devout recluse ; 
 
 Claims merit for resigning power 
 
 No longer hers to use. 
 
 Such late-born sanctity, forsooth, 
 
 I doubt, and do mistrust, — 
 
 View simulated prudery, 
 
 Most odious, with disgust. 
 
 One week of Convent discipline, 
 
 Of censure and rebuff, 
 
 Will, for her sensitiveness, be 
 
212 LOUISE. 
 
 Experiment enough. 
 
 Let the noviciate be made, 
 
 Her constancy be tried ; 
 
 Til warrant, its continuance 
 
 Subdues her saintly pride/' 
 
 Thus she discoursed, attributing 
 
 Hypocrisy ; to scout 
 
 And ridicule my change, upon 
 
 Its motives casting doubt. 
 
 And Louis, by her instances, 
 
 Was prompted to oppose 
 
 My coveted retreat — confirm 
 
 Whatever the Marquise chose. 
 
 Misunderstood — traduced by her, 
 At every step harassed, 
 Push'd to the confines of despair 
 By countless griefs amass' d ; 
 I felt my courage ebb away, 
 My fortitude consume, — 
 
CANTO VI. 213 
 
 Too feeble to accomplish aught, 
 
 But yield me to my doom. 
 
 I was too vile — unworthy e'en 
 
 To be a cloistered nun — 
 
 Yet was it ever incomplete 
 
 The work of grace begun ? 
 
 To consummate the sacrifice 
 
 My weakness long delayed, 
 
 The holy Bishop, Bossuet, 
 
 Was missioned to my aid. 
 
 His eloquence exhorted me 
 
 To struggle and to dare, 
 
 Firm in my righteous cause, to trust 
 
 The potency of prayer 
 
 From spiritual and earthly foes 
 
 The captive to deliver, — 
 
 And, at the last, to pilot me 
 
 O'er Death's unfathom'd river. 
 
 I must not recapitulate 
 
214 LOUISE. 
 
 The obstacles each day, 
 Which persevering faithfulness 
 Dispersed, and smoothed away. 
 Let grateful reminiscences 
 Of Bossuet, suffice ; 
 His priceless admonitions, rich 
 
 In comfort and advice. 
 
 I waver'd in uncertainty, 
 A laggard in my course, 
 Inclined too oft to compromise — 
 Hold parley with remorse. 
 Should I, in Convent Carmelite, 
 Seek piety to cheer ; 
 Or else provide myself retreat 
 More genial, less austere? 
 Yet wha/t were penance, sackcloth rude, 
 Long vigil, prison fare, 
 To her who deck'd with gem and flower 
 Her rival's robes and hair ! 
 
CANTO VI. 215 
 
 Still Bossuet desponded not — 
 Self-immolation pressed ; 
 Sought mercy, that, from Satan's grasp, 
 A branded slave might wrest. 
 He ceased not to admonish me : 
 " Break, break your guilty ties ! 
 Or never Sun of Righteousness 
 With healing shall arise. 
 I must perforce consider you 
 But penitent by half; 
 Account your purpose of reform 
 Light, valueless as chaff." 
 I humbly answered, "Your reproach 
 Is just, alas ! and true ; 
 And tears, for my unworthiness, 
 A sleepless couch bedew. 
 To serve my Saviour, I perceive 
 I have but half a will — 
 I* who have served his Enemy 
 Throughout a life of ill. 
 
216 LOUISE. 
 
 Pray for a wretched sinner ! pray 
 For strength to reach the goal ! 
 Oh, may the potent prayers of saints 
 Emancipate my soul ! " 
 
 Rumors of my vocation spread 
 At Court — I know not whence ; 
 My mother and my trusted friends 
 Opposed with vehemence. 
 They told how meritorious deeds 
 Might earn Salvation's palms, 
 By succouring the destitute, 
 Bestowing daily alms ; 
 Using my riches to relieve 
 Th' unfortunate, the poor ; — 
 That thus my example in the world 
 Would edify it more 
 Than if immured in Convent walls. 
 I had but one reply : 
 " 'Twere sad presumption to suppose 
 
CANTO VI. 217 
 
 Me fit to edify 
 
 Another by my conduct — dare 
 
 As monitor, accost 
 
 A fellow-being, to reclaim — 
 
 She, who herself had lost/' 
 
 Thus I disproved their arguments, 
 With their own weapons foil'd ; 
 The false and shallow reasoning, 
 Upon themselves recoil'd. 
 I fortified my stronghold — raised 
 New bulwarks 'gainst the world; 
 The standard of the Church, in face 
 Of enemies unfurl'd. 
 The Bishop's judgment sentenced me 
 One year to bear th' assault 
 Of foes, of importunities, 
 My own weak heart's revolt. 
 As test of my sincerity, 
 A year to bide at Court ; 
 
 F F 
 
218 LOUISE. 
 
 For I was more unstable yet, 
 
 More- feeble than I thought. 
 
 The splendors left, the cloister's gloom, 
 
 No murmurs e'er begat ; 
 
 An explanation with the King — 
 
 Oh, how I dreaded that ! 
 
 All other obstacles removed, 
 One scruple still remained : 
 I scarce dared think on it, so much 
 Its contemplation pain'd. 
 My little children ! must we part ? 
 Did Nature not condemn 
 The strange and pitiless resolve 
 To separate from them? 
 To leave them worse than orphans — lone, 
 Exposed to every snare 
 That environs the path of youth, 
 Without a mother's care? 
 And could Religion's gentle law 
 
CANTO VI. 219 
 
 At such a deed connive ? 
 Poor infants, of maternal love 
 And guardianship deprive ? 
 
 I reasoned in my ignorance, 
 Still unregen'rate, blind ; 
 For instinct represented this 
 Unnatural, unkind. 
 Till the good Bishop's warning voice 
 The artifice unveil'd 
 Thro' which the Author of all 111 
 Faith's citadel assail'd. 
 He re-assured the fainting heart, 
 By dark misgivings stirr'd ; 
 Temptations of the Evil One 
 My ling'ring doubts averr'd. 
 He flatter'd with no baseless hopes 
 The morrow saw decrease, 
 The airy fabric melt away 
 That vaguely promised peace. 
 
220 LOUISE. 
 
 His was the edifice sublime, 
 
 Whose peerless strength might brook 
 
 The warfare wild of elements, 
 
 Though flood and tempest shook ; 
 
 - 
 Whose solid walls and battlements 
 
 Above destruction tower'd, 
 
 As beacon o'er the raging sea, 
 
 Unscathed in grandeur lower 'd. 
 
 The Church — the One, infallible^ 
 
 Not made by mortal hand, 
 
 'Gainst principalities and powers 
 
 Of darkness, to withstand ; — 
 
 A haven for the tempest-toss'd 
 
 To moor their shatter'd bark, 
 
 Thro' yawning gulfs and whirlpools steer d 
 
 Across the waters dark. 
 
 I would pursue the ray, which from 
 
 That sanctuary beamed ; 
 
 Till, safe within its walls, I join'd 
 
 The song of the Redeemed. 
 
CANTO VI. 221 
 
 The months of my probation seem'd 
 To move on leaden wings ; 
 The heart I strove to raise, was still , 
 A mark for malice' stings. 
 My temporal affairs disposed, 
 From earth I stood aloof ; 
 And, of sincere contrition, sought 
 To give conclusive proof. 
 One eve of liberty alone 
 Remained to intervene ; 
 In strictest privacy I craved 
 An audience of the Queen. 
 Admitted to her Cabinet, 
 The royal Dame before 
 I knelt, with tears, for grievous wrongs 
 Her pardon to implore. 
 She stoop'd to raise me, and the while 
 Her own soft eyes were wet : 
 " Rise, Duchess, rise ! henceforward thus 
 I cancel every debt. 
 
222 LOUISE. 
 
 I do forgive those injuries, 
 
 Their painful record blot ; 
 
 Your faults most nobly are atoned, 
 
 And from this hour forgot. 
 
 Rise, and that blest asylum gain, 
 
 Where never storm can reach ! 
 
 'Mid saints enrolled, — pure, spotless band, — 
 
 Take comfort, I beseech ! " 
 
 Unutterable gratitude 
 
 Came o'er me as she spoke ; 
 
 The burden lightened, from my neck 
 
 Removed the iron yoke. 
 
 The hand her goodness tendered me, 
 
 With fervency I kiss'd ; 
 
 And parted reverently thence 
 
 As by the act dismissed. 
 
 I was, though self-imposed, to drain 
 To its last dregs, the cup ; 
 With Athenais de Montespan 
 
CANTO VI. 223 
 
 Engaged that night to sup. 
 
 I knew what there awaited me, 
 
 What pangs my soul must wring, 
 
 To see the smile and love-glance pass 
 
 Betwixt her and the King. 
 
 How beautiful her syren face 
 
 Exultant, triumph-flush'd, — 
 
 Ah, needless cruelty to pierce 
 
 The heart remorse had crushed ! 
 
 Yet just the retribution, that 
 
 My punishment award 
 
 That earthly idol, once by me 
 
 So trustingly adored. 
 
 That night is over — no complaint 
 Shall from these lips be wrung, 
 The record of my sufferings 
 Shall die upon this tongue ; 
 Nor shall remembrance of its pangs 
 Upon my calm infringe ; 
 
224 LOUISE. 
 
 With rankling sense of injuries 
 
 My charity unhinge. 
 
 What if the Marquise rain'd her shafts 
 
 Upon her rival meek ! 
 
 'Twas the last vengeance granted her 
 
 That Enmity might wreak. 
 
 Oh, when Fve trials as a nun, 
 
 May this suffice to heal — 
 
 The thought of what those cruel two 
 
 Have made their victim feel ! 
 
 I wrestled all that night in prayer, — 
 Might prayer remove the thorn, — 
 Till, with sensation of relief, 
 I saw the early dawn. 
 Not I alone, from brilliant Court, 
 To graver scenes must go ; 
 That day the King his army led 
 To Flanders, 'gainst the foe. 
 In Chapel of the Tuileries 
 
CANTO VI. 225 
 
 We should together pass 
 One season of devotion yet — 
 The hour of morning Mass. 
 
 Meanwhile, a trying interview 
 Inevitable, stamped 
 Its impress ; and the holy zeal, 
 Of late enkindled, damp'd. 
 Their faithful Genevieve had gain'd 
 My little ones access 
 Into my private chamber, where 
 I sat in loneliness. 
 
 The children entered hand in hand — 
 But paused, as if they had 
 Awe, terror of their mother, seen 
 In sable vestments clad. 
 I stretched my arms to reassure 
 My birdlings, scared and fluttered ; 
 The little girl, recovering first, 
 
 Her childish queries utter'd. 
 
 a a 
 
226 LOUISE. 
 
 " Mamma, mamma ! it is not true ? 
 
 Why seek they to deceive us ? 
 
 But Genevieve and others say, 
 
 Sweet mother, thou wilt leave us/' 
 
 Her brother's earnest, dark-blue eyes, 
 
 As questioning the case, 
 
 In innocent bewilderment 
 
 Gazed up into my face. 
 
 I clasp'd my darlings closer still, 
 
 Attempting no reply, — 
 
 What promise or assurances 
 
 To comfort them, had I ? 
 
 But wept, in bitter agony, 
 
 Some moments, unrestrained ; 
 
 Till reason, by adversity 
 
 Long schooled, her sway regained. 
 
 I turned, with Spartan stoicism, 
 
 To face the household wreck, — 
 
 Myself unwound the dimpled arms 
 
 That clung around my neck. 
 
CANTO VI. 227 
 
 Last blessing whispered — latest kiss 
 Pressed on the rosy lips ; — 
 Dark their retreating shadows fell 
 To deepen Life's eclipse. 
 
 No hope, no refuge, but in prayer, 
 To pass the ordeal fire. 
 Clothed in my black and mournful robes, 
 The penitent's attire, 
 I waited till the hour of Mass 
 My prison-doors unlock ; 
 In feverish impatience watch' d 
 The striking of the clock. 
 That welcome sound was heard at last. 
 Prepared for all before me, 
 I rose — and to the Palace Church 
 My coursers swiftly bore me. 
 The King was in his tribune placed, 
 I felt — but dared not lift 
 One glance above the book I held — 
 
228 LOUISE. 
 
 A missal— once his gift, — 
 
 His first, his only gift retained. 
 
 E'en there my spirit droop'd : 
 
 Over the rich illumined page, 
 
 To hide emotion, stoop'd. 
 
 That gorgeous spectacle, that church 
 
 Of priests and warriors full, 
 
 Awakened dormant memories 
 
 Impossible to lull. 
 
 Of what I might have been — and was,- 
 
 How loved and honored once ; — 
 
 Unheard th' officiating priests, 
 
 The choristers' response. 
 
 My mother worshipped at my side, 
 
 Supporter firm and stanch ; 
 
 Demurring ne'er at Duty's call, 
 
 Although her cheek might blanch. 
 
 Amid the Court venality 
 
 My mother stood erect, 
 
 Unswerving in integrity, 
 
CANTO VI. 229 
 
 To challenge all respect. 
 
 She had deplored my choice ; yet there 
 
 Beside me in my need, 
 
 She nerved her child to undergo 
 
 The ordeal decreed. 
 
 The closing anthem's echo died: — 
 The service at an end, 
 From tribune high and privileged 
 The King and suite descend. 
 The rest, in mute respect, await, 
 Till chamberlains transmit 
 The intimation to disperse, 
 As rank and state befit. 
 An hour would see the King depart, 
 Fresh conquests to achieve : 
 Slow down the chapel aisle we moved, 
 To take our final leave. 
 
 Without, a group of officers 
 
230 LOUISE. 
 
 Awaiting, stood around ; 
 
 His war-steed, in the court below, 
 
 Impatient, paw'd the ground. 
 
 Battalions filFd the Carrousel 
 
 Of infantry and horse ; 
 
 The Monarch's chosen 'Household troops/ 
 
 Flower of his martial force. 
 
 Two pages in attendance wait ; 
 
 By one his helmet borne — 
 
 Part of his armor, rarely, save 
 
 In actual conflict, worn. 
 
 Yes ! there, in peerless majesty, 
 
 He stood, the King of men, 
 
 For our last interview on earth ; — 
 
 Our next, oh, where ? and when ? 
 
 These thoughts overcame me, and I paused, 
 
 Unable to proceed ; 
 
 Lean'd on my mother for support, 
 
 Overwhelmed, in very deed. 
 
 My mother whispered soothingly, 
 
CANTO VI. 231 
 
 " Louise, one effort more ; 
 
 Courage, my child ! a few short steps, 
 
 And all you dread is o'er ! " 
 
 I could not move, as rooted there, 
 A nd paralysed, I gazed ; 
 My eyes, for one last look, to his 
 Imploringly were raised. 
 Oh, for one glance of sympathy 
 To bear with me away ! 
 To cheer me in the ceil, where I 
 Might kneel for him and pray ; 
 Invoke for him prosperity, — 
 Count nought too dear a price 
 To win Heaven's choicest gifts, myself 
 A willing sacrifice ; 
 By double penances for him, 
 Our mutual sin atone, 
 Purchase by rigid fast and prayer 
 His pardon and my own ! 
 
232 LOUISE. 
 
 Alas, despotic etiquette 
 
 Forbade responsive sign ; 
 
 A due composure to maintain 
 
 His eye avoided mine. 
 
 I read his wish to end the scene, 
 
 His air disturbed and flushed; 
 
 The great Turenne and all his staff, 
 
 Were there, attent and hush'd. 
 
 For war equipped, in shining mail, 
 His bearing disavowed 
 All feeling save indifference 
 Before th' observant crowd. 
 I moved as in a dream, — 'twas all 
 Confused and indistinct : 
 Both hands convulsive clasp' d the arm 
 In which my own was link'd. 
 A faithful mother guided me, 
 ImpelFd me gently on, 
 In nervous haste to terminate 
 
CANTO VI. 233 
 
 The audience, and be gone. 
 
 He doffd his hat, — I see it yet, — 
 
 His white and waving plume ; 
 
 Yet heard I not the Courtly phrase, 
 
 "Adieu/' that seal'd my doom. 
 
 Although 'twas spoken, yet were lost 
 
 The words in murmuring sound, 
 
 My brain disordered ringing through, 
 
 Sense and perception drown'd. 
 
 Against such mockery I felt 
 
 My yearning heart rebel ; 
 
 Could he, once all in all to me, 
 
 Thus coldly bid farewell? 
 
 I strove to answer ; but in vain, 
 
 My quivering lips refused 
 
 The utterance of formalities 
 
 On light occasion used. 
 
 Hopeless, subdued, I had no heart 
 
 A second glance to cast ; — 
 
 Bent with profoundest reverence, 
 
 H H 
 
234 LOUISE. 
 
 And from his presence pass'd. 
 
 Succeeded vacancy, — a blank, — 
 My mother quickly sought 
 To reach the carriage that for us 
 Awaited in the court. 
 They tell me friends accompanied us, 
 That I, collected, stood, 
 Their parting compliments returned, — 
 I marvel that I could ! 
 To doubt that hour's occurrences 
 I oft can scarce refrain ; 
 One sole idea indelibly 
 Was graven on my brain ; — 
 That the one object idolised 
 Thus, unconcerned, could sever ; 
 The glorious day-star of my life 
 Darken in clouds for ever. 
 
 What desolation crushing me, 
 
CANTO VI. 235 
 
 Unmeted and untold ! 
 
 On thro' the city's narrow streets 
 
 The ponderous carriage roll'd, 
 
 Until the Convent's iron gates 
 
 And lofty portals rose,— 
 
 Those walls, within whose precincts, must 
 
 This wrecked existence close. 
 
 The holy sisters waited there, 
 
 And Abbess, at whose knee 
 
 I sank : " O mother, I submit 
 
 My future course to thee ! 
 
 Thy judgment and authority 
 
 For my direction use, 
 
 I evermore resign the will 
 
 Possessed, but to abuse. 
 
 Heart and desires unsanctified 
 
 Curb, and unsparing school ; 
 
 I come, a penitent sincere, 
 
 To thy maternal rule/' 
 
 The Abbess raised me and embraced. 
 
236 LOUISE. 
 
 Bestow'd the holy kiss : 
 
 " My daughter, enter and pursue 
 
 The path to endless bliss ! 
 
 I welcome gladly to the fold 
 
 The long-lost sheep restored, 
 
 Now privileged to spend her days 
 
 In service of the Lord/' 
 
 How beautiful is Charity ! 
 Essence of love Divine ; 
 More precious cordial to the soul 
 Than to the body, wine. 
 It warm'd and vivified anew 
 A bosom torn and chilM ; 
 Of Christian sympathy the balm 
 Upon my wounds distill' d ; 
 Inspiring boundless gratitude 
 For kindness undeserved ; 
 And in response, my energies 
 For one last trial nerved. 
 
CANTO VI. 237 
 
 Dreaded, yet ardently desired, 
 That day decisive dawn'd. 
 I might in public expiate, 
 The sins long truly mourn'd. 
 Thro' windows rich in varied hues, 
 The passing sun-rays gild 
 The Chapel of the Carmelites, 
 With rank and beauty fill'd. 
 The pious, mild Queen Consort there 
 Her gracious presence deign'd, — 
 Token of pardon granted me 
 From purity unstained. 
 And highborn dames around her chair 
 Were grouped — and loyal knights ; — 
 Anon, the solemn organ's tones 
 Inaugurate the rites. 
 Raised by devout enthusiasm 
 Above this lower sphere, 
 Strength was vouchsafed me from on high 
 With calmness to appear,— 
 
238 LOUISE. 
 
 Before that concourse to advance 
 
 Unblenchingly, nor quail, — 
 
 Kneel to the priest, whose reverend hands 
 
 Bestow the novice' veil. 
 
 My hair unbound, dishevelled, fell 
 
 In ringlets to my waist ; 
 
 One soft tress, sever d from its wealth, 
 
 On massive salver placed. 
 
 Pledge that those curls redundant, soon 
 
 Like Autumn leaves must fall ; 
 
 For aye the novice' veil enshroud : — 
 
 Chill Winter's snow-white pall. 
 
 Rapt and exalted, I pronounced 
 
 Th' irrevocable vows ; — 
 
 I, the contemn'd of men, arose 
 
 High Heaven's accepted spouse. 
 
 The vesture of the Carmelite 
 
 That ceremonial seal'd. 
 
 Again, in jubilant outburst, 
 
 The strain exultant peal'd. 
 
CANTO VI. 239 
 
 Led to the grate, one glimpse beyond 
 
 I caught ; — 'mid silken sheen 
 
 Of various forms, my grateful eyes 
 
 Distinguished but the Queen. 
 
 It closed. A sister took my hand, 
 
 Conducted to my cell ; — 
 
 The clangor of the iron grate 
 
 Rang out my freedom's knell. 
 
 I am the cloister'd Carmelite, 
 Yet full of doubts and fears ; 
 Look down the vista tremblingly 
 Of joyless, coming years. 
 Oh, brief the pleasures that in sin 
 A human soul can find ; 
 While long and poignant the remorse 
 Its memory leaves behind ! 
 Forbidden reminiscences 
 Of earthly love evokes, — 
 Overwhelms my bruised and bleeding heart 
 
240 LOUISE. 
 
 With unrelenting strokes. 
 
 I labor to eradicate 
 
 Such thoughts : to interdict 
 
 Their entrance, — every sentiment, 
 
 To piety restrict. 
 
 In vain ! in vain ! On earth for me 
 
 No peace, however sought ; 
 
 Futile the penances, by which 
 
 I deem'd Salvation bought, 
 
 Are, to obliterate the Past, 
 
 Extract the poison' d dart ; — 
 
 Thine image, Louis, lingers still. 
 
 When will it thence depart ! 
 
 It wears the aspect thou didst wear 
 
 That day, reserved and proud, 
 
 Void of the pitying tenderness 
 
 In parting hour allowed. 
 
 O cruel, cruel Louis ! loved 
 
 And worshipped to excess, 
 
 How couldst thou, at the hour supreme, 
 
CANTO VI. 
 
 241 
 
 All outward sign repress 
 
 EVn of compassion and regret ! 
 
 But one sad boon I crave, 
 
 That only refuge Earth affords,— 
 
 Give me an early grave ! 
 
 My peace is made with Heaven ; to her 
 Whose perfidy supplanted, 
 I grant a pardon full and free, 
 As unto me was granted. 
 Short-lived the triumph she enjoys, 
 Nor permanent her reign ; 
 The passion that her charms inspired 
 With their decrease must wane. 
 Then in her turn abandoned, be 
 Celestial grace extended ; 
 Forgiveness from the Power on high, 
 Long daringly offended. 
 
 I cannot rest — throughout the night 
 
 i i 
 
242 LOUISE. 
 
 On my hard pallet toss, 
 
 Or rise to weep and supplicate, 
 
 Prostrate before the Cross. 
 
 The day's routine monotonous 
 
 Of servitude and prayer, 
 
 Perform ; my unaccustomed hands 
 
 No menial labour spare 
 
 That tends to mortify the flesh, 
 
 Its vile defections scourge ; 
 
 From pride, imperfectly subdued, 
 
 The ransom'd spirit purge. 
 
 The Abbess bids me oft desist,— 
 The sisters gently chide 
 My over-zeal — austerities 
 Unwonted, multiplied. 
 I cannot intermit their use, 
 I cannot take repose ; — 
 In penitential acts alone 
 My soul refreshment knows. 
 
CANTO VI. 
 
 243 
 
 When will my term of banishment 
 Be past — my exile o'er? 
 And I, released from chains of earth, 
 Tread Heaven's effulgent shore ? 
 This is my vision of delight, 
 To yield my latest breath ! — 
 As Angel of Deliverance, 
 I welcome thee, O Death ! 
 
 
 THE END. 
 
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