FRANCE .

The world recalls thee, monarch, in thy state
And purple pomp of court; it sees thee stand,
Ermined and blazoned o'er with gold, and grand,
While Europe's princes on thy bidding wait.

Turenne in war baptized thy name as great,
Versailles arose from naught at thy command,
But thou, O king, a scepter in thy hand,
Didst use as bludgeon its imperial weight.

I dream of thy dead reign in other ways,
When thou wert greatly blessed, before a care
Had gloomed thy heart, and see thee, to thy praise,
Gallant and beautiful, with talents rare,
In the sweet, sunny summer of thy days,
Kissing the fawn-like eyes of La Valliere.