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UNE MARQUISE.

A RHYMED MONOLOGUE IN THE LOUVRE.

Belle Marquise, vos beaux yeux me font mourir d'amour."

- MOLIÈRE.

And he called all Heaven to witness As you sit there at your ease,

Of his ballad and its fitness, ( Marquise !

Belle Marquise."And the men flock round your knees

You were everything in ère
Thick as bees,

(With exception of sévère),— Mute at every word you utter,

You were cruclle and rebelle, Servants to your least frill flutter,

With the rest of rhymes as well; Belle Ilarquise ! "

You were Reine,and “Mère d'Amour"'; As you sit there growing prouder,

You were Vénus à Cythère"; And your ringed hands glance and go, “Sappho mise en Pompadour; And your fan's frou-frou sounds louder,

And “Minerve en Parabère"; And your “benux yeux"flash and glow;- y.

You had every grace of heaven
Ah, you used them on the Painter,

In your most angelic face,
As you know,

With the nameless finer leaven,
For the Sieur Larose spoke fainter,

Lent of blood and courtly race;
Bowing low,

And he added, too, in duty,
Thanked Madame and Heaven for Mercy

Ninon's wit and Boufflers' beauty: That each sitter was not Circe,

And La Vallière's yeux vcloutés Or at least he told you so ;

Followed these; Growing proud, I say, and prouder

And you liked it, when he said it To the crowd that come and go,

(On his knees), Dainty Deity of Powder,

And you kept it, and you read it. Fickle Queen of Fop and Beau,

Belle Marquise !" As you sit where lustres strike you, Sure to please,

In. Do we love you most or like you, Belle Marquise !

Yet with us your toilet graces

Fail to please,
II.

And the last of your last faces,
You are fair; oh, yes, we know it

And your mise;
Well, Marquise;

For we hold you just as real,
For he swore it, your last poet,

"Belle Marquise!'' On his knees;

As your Bergers and Bergères :

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" TILL A FAIRER FACE OUTLIVE YOU,

OR A YOUNGER GRACE SHALL PLEASE."

No; we neither like nor love you,

"Belle Marquise!" Lesser lights we place above you,

Milder merits better please. We have passed from Philiosophe-dom

Into plainer modern days,~ Grown contented in our oafdom,

Giving grace not all the praise; And, en partant, Arsinoć,

Without malice whatsoever, We shall counsel to our Chloë

To be rather good than clever; For we find it hard to smother

Just one little thought, Marquise ! Wittier perhaps than any other,You were neither Wife nor Mother,

Belle Marquise!"

And the languors of your life-time,

"Belle Marquise!"
Say, to trim your toilet tapers,
Or,-to twist your hair in papers,
Or,—to win you from the vapours;-

As for these,
You are worth the love they give you,

Austin Dobson.

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