The Josephine Gallery | ||
279
MADAME REGNAULT.
I think the humblest peasant girl,
Roaming the valleys free,
If loved and cherished in her home,
Could never envy thee;
But rather weep above thy fate—
So proud, and yet so desolate.
Roaming the valleys free,
If loved and cherished in her home,
Could never envy thee;
But rather weep above thy fate—
So proud, and yet so desolate.
Midst all the ladies of the court
Still wert thou most forlorn,
E'en for thy very beauty's sake
A target for their scorn;
Envy, and bitter rivalry,
Drove from their hearts all love for thee.
Still wert thou most forlorn,
E'en for thy very beauty's sake
A target for their scorn;
Envy, and bitter rivalry,
Drove from their hearts all love for thee.
And e'en the Monarch, whom through life
Thou didst revere and trust,
He, to thy worth and loveliness,
Was cruel and unjust;
O'er him, the noblest woman's power
Could last but for an idle hour.
Thou didst revere and trust,
He, to thy worth and loveliness,
Was cruel and unjust;
O'er him, the noblest woman's power
Could last but for an idle hour.
280
The weak were objects of his scorn,
The wise, his fear and dread;
He heaped with shame, from mere caprice,
The unoffending head.
And they who dared to brave his wrath
Were swept unpitied from his path.
The wise, his fear and dread;
He heaped with shame, from mere caprice,
The unoffending head.
And they who dared to brave his wrath
Were swept unpitied from his path.
Though hopes, or even hearts must break,
He ruled unthwarted still,
Friends, sisters, even his wife at last,
He sacrificed at will;
Was retribution for the past
That none were near him at the last?
He ruled unthwarted still,
Friends, sisters, even his wife at last,
He sacrificed at will;
Was retribution for the past
That none were near him at the last?
O woe! to thee, fair lady, woe,
That such fidelity
As thine was poured on one who gave
So little back to thee;
Woe, that thou shouldst have bowed thy head
For shame, thou hadst not merited.
That such fidelity
As thine was poured on one who gave
So little back to thee;
Woe, that thou shouldst have bowed thy head
For shame, thou hadst not merited.
And woe, for him who faltered not
For woman's suffering;
Must there not come to him at last
A fearful reckoning?
When all who suffered for his sake
Are heard, what answer can he make?
For woman's suffering;
Must there not come to him at last
A fearful reckoning?
When all who suffered for his sake
Are heard, what answer can he make?
The Josephine Gallery | ||