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Margaret, Queen of Navarre, 1492-1549

"The Tales Of The Heptameron, Vol. I. (of V.)"


Bref, mon esprit, sans congnoissance d'ame,
Vivoit alors sur la bouche a ma dame,
Dont se mouroit le corps enamoure;
Et si la levre eust gueres demoure
Contre la mienne, elle m'eust succe l'ame,
En la baisant.
There is the devout meditation of Oisille, and that familiarity with the
Scriptures which, as Hircan himself says, "I trow we all read and
know." And then there is the note given by two other curious stories of
Brantome. One tells how the Queen of Navarre watched earnestly for hours
by the bedside of a dying maid of honour, that she might see whether the
parting of the soul was a visible fact or not. The second tells how
when some talked before her of the joys of heaven, she sighed and said,
"Well, I know that this is true; but we dwell so long dead underground
before we arise thither." There, in a few words, is the secret of _THE
HEPTAMERON_: the fear of God, the sense of death, the voluptuous longing
and voluptuous regret for the good things of life and love that pass
away.


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