Louis XII
FRANCE .
Your joyous youth, when heedless of a crown,
Passed amid laughing damosels and flowers,
Awed in grim Plessis, free in Touraine's bowers,
Loving to love, dreading a tyrant's frown!
Man of most nervous beauty and renown,
You knew the torture of eventless hours,
When, from the gloom of Bourge's antique towers,
You, desolate, gazed upon the dismal town.
But fate broke down your bars, and you were king
Of that white, perfect pearl of nations, France,
Loved by its people, lord and liege thereof.
Ah, why, when war by you had lost its sting,
When your sweet life could crush its stern advance,
Why, lecherous graybeard, did you die, — of love?
Your joyous youth, when heedless of a crown,
Passed amid laughing damosels and flowers,
Awed in grim Plessis, free in Touraine's bowers,
Loving to love, dreading a tyrant's frown!
Man of most nervous beauty and renown,
You knew the torture of eventless hours,
When, from the gloom of Bourge's antique towers,
You, desolate, gazed upon the dismal town.
But fate broke down your bars, and you were king
Of that white, perfect pearl of nations, France,
Loved by its people, lord and liege thereof.
Ah, why, when war by you had lost its sting,
When your sweet life could crush its stern advance,
Why, lecherous graybeard, did you die, — of love?
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