University of Virginia Library

EXTRACT FROM CANTO XIII

[A glorious spectacle now rose to view,
The age of pleasure and of wonders too,
Great Louis and his sumptuous court now move,
Where all the arts were instigate by love.
Love reared the structure of Versailles renowned,
By Love the dazzled multitudes were crowned,
From flowery couch Love formed great Louis' throne,
Spite of the clash of arms and battle's groan;
Love, to the chief and sun of all his court
Led the most charming rivals to resort,
Impatient all and glowing with desire;
First Mazarin's fair niece, her eyes on fire,
Then generous and tender Vallière,
Then Montespan, more proud and debonnaire.
One yielding to ecstatic rapture's power,
The other waiting pleasure's promised hour.]
A metamorphosis his vision had;
In long black cloak lugubriously clad,
Love casts aside the roses from his hair
And hides his forehead 'neath a bonnet square.
White silly Scruple, icy Decency.
Conceal his traits of smiling infancy.
Him follows Hymen on mysterious feet:
His torches twain flame out with equal heat,
Fires without glow, whose chilly flames and white
Fatigue the places they pretend to light.
By these sad candles' flickering unkind,
With pimps and eke a priest, who go behind,
Great Louis, poppy-crowned and cassock led
Proceeds his ancient Harridan to wed.
He, who of Bourbons, far surpassed the rest,
The monk sees cozened by a flabby breast,
Upon a couch he stirs his aged nag;
Love is in tears and all his faithful tag:
To Paphos all the games and laughter fly,
Paris, the Court are all for piety.
A lechery as brutal as intense
Is all the pleasure now that's left to sense.
The air grows dense, and cynic wits maintain
Diogenes', not Epicurus' reign.
In deep extremes of drunkenness obscure
The courtier seeks his freedom to procure;
Cassocked Hercules, Priapus in a cloak,
Upon the palace lay their obscene yolk;
To this disgusting pair all hommage tends,
Whom sheer brutality alone commends,
Beauty and grace at their good pleasure dance;
Such is the end of gentle love in France,
When Providential care or Destiny,
The bigot king laid with his ancestry.
The monk then saw the Regent's happy time;
The pleasant reign of license had its prime,
As folly tinkling loud her bells in hand
With lightsome step tripped over Gallia's land,
When pious men as simple fools appear,
Soft Argenton and joyous Parabère!
'Tis through your care, Cythera's god once more,
In Orléans' palace, men again adore,
About his shrines once more the incense blows.
The god of Taste, the one compeer Love knows,
To genius seeks to join all charms that please.
Fauns and Priapus, brutal Hercules
Are forced to make the Convents their retreat,
Nor dare in merry France to take their seat.