Classic Poem

FRANCE .

Thou couldst not bear, with its gigantic weight,
Thy royal father's fame indeed, but thou,
Puniest of kings, heldst on thy sallow brow
The mighty laurels none dared desecrate.

Of Richelieu, puissant in his love and hate,
Who knelt before thee, but who made thee bow
Thy anointed head; this is thy glory now:
A twirl of scarlet made or marred thy state.

Yet history, lenient in caressing ways,
Tells of lewd courts, where thou wert forced to dwell,
And of thy chastity unto thy praise;
And no encompassed king loved France so well
As thou didst, and thy foes recall the days
When thy strong glaive hung over La Rochelle.