well-known novel, _Marguerite de Valois_, gives her a somewhat
dubious reputation, as half-tool, half-agent for Catherine, and
as the mistress of the historical La Mole. This doubtful phase,
however, if true, was but in keeping with the fashion of the
times. It is mentioned merely as a possible line completing the
portrait of this brilliant woman, who lives again for us in the
pages of her _Memoirs_.


ON MARGUERITE DE VALOIS.

QUEEN OF NAVARRE.

Dear native land! and you, proud castles! say
(Where grandsire,[1] father,[2] and three brothers[3] lay,
Who each, in turn, the crown imperial wore),
Me will you own, your daughter whom you bore?
Me, once your greatest boast and chiefest pride,
By Bourbon and Lorraine,[4] when sought a bride;
Now widowed wife,[5] a queen without a throne,
Midst rocks and mountains[6] wander I alone.
Nor yet hath Fortune vented all her spite,
But sets one up,[7] who now enjoys my right,
Points to the boy,[8] who henceforth claims the throne
And crown, a son of mine should call his own.
But ah, alas! for me 'tis now too late[9]
To strive 'gainst Fortune and contend with Fate;
Of those I slighted, can I beg relief?[10]
No; let me die the victim of my grief.
And can I then be justly said to live?