The Josephine Gallery | ||
228
PAULINE BONAPARTE.
Let her name be Queen of Beauty,
For her wondrous loveliness;
She is worthy of no higher
And no better place than this.
For her wondrous loveliness;
She is worthy of no higher
And no better place than this.
Not as daughter or as sister,
Was she aught we can desire;
Not as friend, or wife, or mother,
Can we honor or admire.
Was she aught we can desire;
Not as friend, or wife, or mother,
Can we honor or admire.
And we scarce dare even whisper,
As we pause and read her name
“She had something to redeem her,
We can pity while we blame.”
As we pause and read her name
“She had something to redeem her,
We can pity while we blame.”
For no wisdom came with knowledge,
To retrieve a wasted past;
Hers was Folly's life of folly,
And its crowning act the last.
To retrieve a wasted past;
Hers was Folly's life of folly,
And its crowning act the last.
Think of an immortal creature
With a soul for endless years,
Knowing only selfish pleasures,
Weeping only selfish tears.
With a soul for endless years,
Knowing only selfish pleasures,
Weeping only selfish tears.
229
Think of any woman, troubled
By no higher thought than this—
Whether emeralds, pearls, or diamonds
Best would grace her loveliness;—
By no higher thought than this—
Whether emeralds, pearls, or diamonds
Best would grace her loveliness;—
Taxing all the little powers
Of a vain and foolish brain
With the fashion of a turban,
Or the border of a train!
Of a vain and foolish brain
With the fashion of a turban,
Or the border of a train!
Yet our Queen of Beauty's vision
Of the fullness of delight
Was a “fête for every morning,
And a ball for every night;”
Of the fullness of delight
Was a “fête for every morning,
And a ball for every night;”
And to live for pleasure only,
In a ceaseless round of mirth;
This, her estimate of duty,
And her value of life's worth.
In a ceaseless round of mirth;
This, her estimate of duty,
And her value of life's worth.
So we call her Queen of Beauty,
Yielding to her only claim;
For no deed that honors woman
Ever beautified her name.
Yielding to her only claim;
For no deed that honors woman
Ever beautified her name.
All her days were vain and idle,
As a vapor or a breath;
She was fair, but frail and sinful,
In her life and in her death.
As a vapor or a breath;
She was fair, but frail and sinful,
In her life and in her death.
The Josephine Gallery | ||