Conde, Myfelf his Brother's only Son, 35 To Me a Master and a Father prov'd.
His Camp my Cradle, There beneath the Shade
Of Laurels, to Fatigue inur'd, I liv'd.
Like him, Court-Indolence I early scorn'd;
His Combats in my Childhood were my Plays:
Ah I ftill mourn, and ever fhall I mourn
His Murder by a vile Affaffin's Hand. 36
Heaven, kind Protector of my helpless Age,
Me to the Care of Heroes ftill confign'd.
Coligny after Conde took that Trust,
Was my Defender, and my Party's Prop.
I owe him, Madam, All the Debt I own, 37
Whatever Europe in my Favour speaks;
Whatever Rome has in my Deeds esteem'd 38
To Thee, Illuftrious Shade, I owe it All.
Under his Eye in Courage as in Years
I grew, and ferv'd my Prenticeship of War,
Heavy, but light by his Example made.
By him instructed in the Hero's Art,
I faw him in the Warriour's Toils grow grey.
The Burthen of the Common Cause he bore
With Medicis, and Fortune still adverfe.
In ev'ry Circumstance of Life he gain'd
The Love of Friends and the Respect of Foes,
And, when he did not profper, he was fear'd.
In Combats knowing, in Retreats the fame,
Moft Grand, and moft redoubted in Defeats, 39
Which neither Gafton nor Dunois cou'd boast 40
Amid the various Ecchoes of their Fame.
Ten Years in winning and in lofing spent, 4 The Plains still spread with an embattled Host Of Those, whom Medicis believ'd destroy'd, After fo many Trials fhe was tir'd
With Combating and Conquering in vain.
Efforts of War She meant no more to try,
But with one Stroke the Civil Difcord end.
The Court their Favours offer'd as a Lure,
And, fince they cou'd not vanquish, gave us Peace. What Peace, ye righteous and avenging Pow'rs! How sprinkled was her Olive-Branch with Blood! Heav'n! must the Masters of Mankind, make plain, Like Medicis, their Subjects Way to Crimes?
Coligny, ever faithful to his Prince
In Heart, tho' forc'd Oppreffion to oppofe,
And Friend to France, when He against her fought,
Was first at Union's Call to lend an Ear,
And Peace to the distracted State reftore.
The Hero feldom to Distrust gives way,
Or marches, diffident, amid the Foe.
He leads me to the Louvre, Medicis
With Tears receives Me, and with open Arms.
A Mother's Tenderness cou'd not be more,
Nor more the Friendship, nor the fraudful Faith,
Confirm'd with Oaths, She to Coligny plights;
With Dignities and Benefits o'erborn,
His Counfels are to be Her future Guide.
My Servants She with flatt'ring Hopes deludes,
Of her Son's Favours to my Friends profuse
In Promises, She lulls their Fear afleep,
And long we hop'd these Halcyon Days wou'd last.
Yet fome, fufpecting Treafon in her Smiles,
Were jealous of the Gifts of Enemies.
The more they doubt, the King the more diffembles.
The King by Medicis's Leffons form'd
Of Fraud and Perjury the Practice knew.
Murder She made familiar to his Heart,
And, as to Cruelty his Nature bent,
Her cruel Counfels He with Pleasure heard;
Apt Scholar in her execrable School.
The better to conceal th' accurs'd Defign
His Sifter I must wed, the Wedding fix'd, 42
He calls me Brother, Ah deluding Name!
Vain Vows, and fatal Hymeneal Knot!
Our Marriage, the firft Signal to our Woes,
The Wrath of Heav'n provok'd; the Day of Joy'
My Mother's Death to that of Mourning chang'd. 43
I wou'd not be unjust, nor more impute
To Medicis than She deferves; that Death
Without her fecret Helping might have hap'd.
There's no Neceffity to fearch for Crimes
Against her; on that Day my Mother dy'd.
Pardon these Tears, to her Remembrance due,
By Duty forc'd, and Tenderness they flow.
Mean time, impatient for their Fill of Blood,
The Murd'rers wait the dreadful Hour; it comes,
With Horrors, fuch as Hell cou'd furnish, wing'd. 44
The Signal giv'n, no Tumult and no Noise
Ensue, the Darkness of the Night befriends
Their Hellish Work, and Nature in a Fright
Shuts up the trembling Light in dreary Clouds.
Coligny languishes in false Repose,
Sleep closes with deceitful Hand his Eyes.
Forth on a fudden break a thousand Cries
Hideous, and rob him of his Flatt'ring 'Reft.
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