T. R. Smith, comp. Poetica Erotica: Rare and Curious Amatory Verse. 1921–22.
Charles VII. and Agnes Sorel
By Voltaire (1694–1778)(From La Pucelle, the Maid of Orleans, Canto I.; translated by Ernest Dowson, 1899) * * * * * |
| OUR good King Charles within his youthful prime | |
| His revels kept at Tours, at Eastertime, | |
| Where at a ball, (for well he loved to dance) | |
| It so fell out, that for the good of France | |
| He met a maid who beggared all compare, | 5 |
| Named Agnes Sorel, (Love had framed the fair). | |
| Let your warm fancy youthful Flora trace, | |
| Of Venus add her most enchanting grace, | |
| The wood-nymph’s stature and bewitching guise, | |
| With Love’s seductive air and brilliant eyes, | 10 |
| Arachne’s art, the Syren’s dulcet song,— | |
| All these were hers and she could lead along | |
| Kings, Heroes, Sages in her captive chain. | |
| To see her, love her, feel the increasing pain, | |
| Of young Desire, its growing warmth to prove, | 15 |
| With faultering utterance to speak of Love; | |
| To tremble and regard with dove-like eyes, | |
| To strive and speak and utter nought but sighs, | |
| Her hands, with a caressing hand to hold, | |
| Till panting all the flames her breast enfold; | 20 |
| By turns each other’s tender pains impart, | |
| And own the luscious thrill that sways the heart; | |
| To please, in short, is just a day’s affair | |
| For Kings in love are swift and debonnaire. | |
| Agnes was fain—she knew the art to please | 25 |
| To deck the thing in garb of mysteries, | |
| Veils of thin gauze, through which will always pry, | |
| The envious courtier’s keen, malignant eye. | |
| To mask this business, that none might know | |
| The King made choice of Councillor Bonneau; | 30 |
| A trusty man of Tours, skilled in device | |
| Who filled a post that is not over nice, | |
| Which, though the court, that always seeks to lend | |
| Beauty to all things, calls the Prince’s friend, | |
| The vulgar town and every rustic imp | 35 |
| Are grossly apt to designate a Pimp. | |
| Upon Loire’s banks thus worthy Sieur Bonneau | |
| Stood seigneur of an elegant chateau, | |
| Whither one day, about the time of shade, | |
| In a light skiff fair Agnes was conveyed, | 40 |
| There the same knight King Charles would fain recline | |
| And there they supped, while Bonneau poured the wine. | |
| State was dismissed, though all was served with care, | |
| Banquets of gods could not with this compare! | |
| Our Lovers their delight and joy confessed, | 45 |
| Desire inflamed and transport filled each breast, | |
| Supremely formed by sprightly wit to please, | |
| Eager they listen and alternate gaze; | |
| While their discourse, without indecence, free, | |
| Gave their impatience fresh vivacity. | 50 |
| The ardent prince’s eyes her charms devoured, | |
| While in her ear soft tales of love he poured, | |
| And with his knee her gentle knees deflowered. | |
| The supper over, music played awhile, | |
| Italian music—the chromatic style. | 55 |
| Flutes, hautboys, viols softly breathed around, | |
| While three melodious voices swelled the sound; | |
| They sang historic allegories, their strain | |
| Told of those heroes mighty Love had slain, | |
| And those they sang, who some proud Fair to please, | 60 |
| Quit fields of glory for inglorious ease. | |
| In a recess this skilful band was set | |
| Hard by the chamber where the good king ate; | |
| As yet they sought their secret joys to screen | |
| And Agnes fair enjoyed the whole unseen. | 65 |
| The moon upon the sky begins to glower; | |
| Midnight has struck; it is Love’s magic hour; | |
| In an alcove begilt with art most sure, | |
| Not lit too much and yet not too obscure, | |
| Between two sheets of finest Holland made | 70 |
| The lovely Agnes’ glowing charms were laid. | |
| Here did Dame Alix leave her to repose; | |
| But, cunning Abigail! forgot to close | |
| The private door that ope’d an easy way | |
| To eager Charles, impatient of delay. | 75 |
| Perfumes most exquisite, with timely care | |
| Are poured already on his braided hair: | |
| And ye, who best have loved, can tell the best | |
| The anxious throbbings of our monarch’s breast. | |
| The sanctuary gained which shrines her charms, | 80 |
| In bed he clasps her naked to his arms. | |
| Moment of ecstasy! propitious night! | |
| Their hearts responsive beat with fond delight. | |
| Love’s brightest roses glow on Agnes’ cheek; | |
| In the warm blush, her fears and wishes speak. | 85 |
| But maiden fears in transport melt away, | |
| And Love triumphant rules with sovran sway. | |
| The ardent Prince now pressed her to his breast, | |
| His eyes surveyed, his eager hands caressed, | |
| Beauties enough which had been given her | 90 |
| To make a hermit an idolater. | |
| Beneath a neck, whose dazzling whiteness shone | |
| Pure and resplendent as the Parian stone, | |
| With gentlest swell two breasts serenely move, | |
| Severed and moulded by the hand of Love. | 95 |
| Each crowned with vermeil bud of damask rose, | |
| Enchanting nipples, which ne’er know repose; | |
| You seemed the gaze and pressure to invite, | |
| And wooed the longing lips to seek delight. | |
| Ever complying with my reader’s taste, | 100 |
| I meant to paint as low as Agnes’ waist; | |
| To show that symmetry, devoid of blot, | |
| Where Argus’ self could not discern a spot; | |
| But Virtue, which the world good manners calls, | |
| Stops short my hand:—and lo! the pencil falls. | 105 |
| In Agnes all was beauty, all was fair; | |
| Voluptuousness, whereof she had her share, | |
| Spurred every sense which instant took the alarm, | |
| Adding new grace to every brilliant charm | |
| It animated: Love can use disguise, | 110 |
| And pleasure heightens beauty in our eyes. * * * * * | |