At Toulouse there lived a belle,1
Clémence Isaure was she named ;2
Young Lautrec he loved her well,3
And her loyal promise claimed.4
But her parent, harsh and stern,5
Vowed to separate their hearts.6
(Loving breasts who sigh and burn,7
Ever meet misfortune’s darts.)8
Alphonse, Clémence’s papa,9
Chose another spouse for her ;10
She, with “ Oh ! Alas ! ” and “ Ah ! ”11
At his knees cried, “ Kill me, sir !12
Let your great displeasure cause,13
End at once to breath and woe,14
Yours my life, by nature’s laws,15
Let my heart to Lautrec go.”16
But his wrath (though he was old)17
Made him scorn love’s golden cup,18
And his daughter over-bold,19
In a tower he shut up.20
Lautrec, groaning at the gate,21
Sat without in tears and rage.22
(So will sit, they say, her mate,23
By the prisoned blackbird’s cage.)24
Now the tender Clémence hears,25
All her lover’s vows of truth ;26
And between the iron bars,27
Thus admonishes the youth.28
“ Lautrec, calm these idle pains,29
Trust in my fidelity,30
Lightly hang these clinking chains,31
For, my dear, they clink for thee.32
“ Let us to the tempest yield,33
Thou to Philip’s court repair,34
Show thy worth on battle-field,35
So may Heaven grant our prayer.36
Go, but take this little thing,37
All the wealth that I have yet,38
But a simple rose I fling,39
Marigold and violet.”40
From the window then she threw,41
These (most fortunately kept !)42
Lautrec caught, and quick withdrew,43
For hard by her father crept.44
Then to Paris took his way,45
Wishing he was back again,46
Sighing “ Clémence ! ” all the day,47
While the echoes mocked his pain.48
Learns that wars on every side49
Are abroad—most welcome news !50
And that Edward, England’s pride,51
Will lay siege to fair Toulouse.52
Back he goes with grief to see,53
As he takes his place in front,54
Brave defenders break and flee,55
’Fore the sturdy English brunt.56
One alone stands still at bay,57
Rather death than flight to brave ;58
’Tis Alphonse, still bold, though grey :59
Lautrec flies that life to save.60
Gleams his blade, and rings his cry,61
Alphonse finds a living shield,62
Edward’s soldiers turn to fly,63
Lautrec faints upon the field.64
“ Stay ! ” he says, “ my wound is deep,65
Why I perished, you can tell,66
Ere I sink in death’s long sleep,67
Take to her my last farewell.68
These three flowers, faded now,69
Stained with blood, give back to her,70
Lay once more on lips and brow,71
What my chiefest comforts were.”72
Alphonse then his daughter sought ;73
She behaved with proper pride,74
Went to bed, but, with forethought,75
Made her will before she died.76
Now each year successive shows,77
Proof of her profound regret,78
When the poets win the Rose,79
Marigold, and Violet.80