The other princesses did not evince greater firmness when overwhelmed by the complaints of the cabal, and in a manner bent their knee before the wives of the French nobility, asking their pardon for their father's error in selecting a mistress from any rank but theirs. About this period a song, which I admired greatly, was circulated abroad. My enemies interpreted it to my disadvantage, but I was far from being of the same opinion. It was successively attributed to the most clever men in Paris, and I have myself met with four who each asserted himself to be the author; in justice it should be ascribed to him who appeared the most calculated to have written it, and who indeed claimed it for his own--the chevalier de Boufflers. I do not know whether you recollect the lines in question. I will transcribe them from memory, adding another couplet, which was only known amongst our own particular circle, but which proves most incontestably the spirit of kindness with which the stanzas were composed. Lise, ta beauté séduit, Et charme tout le monde. En vain la duchesse en rougit, Et la princesse en gronde, Chacun sait que Vénus naquit De l'ecume de l'onde. En rit-elle moins tous les dieux. Lui rendre un juste hommage! Et Paris, le berger fameux, Lui donner l'avantage Même sur la reine des cieux Et Minerve la sage? Dans le sérail du grand seigneur. Quelle est la favorite? C'est la plus belle au gré de coeur Du maitre qui l'habite. C'est le seul titre en sa faveur Et c'est le vrai mérite. Que Grammont tonne contre toi, La chose est naturelle. Elle voudrait donner la loi Et n'est qu' une mortelle; Il faut, pour plaire au plus grand roi, Sans orgueil etre belle.* * From those readers who may understand this chanson in the original, and look somewhat contemptuously on the following version, the translator begs to shelter himself under the well-known observation of Lord Chesterfield, "that everything suffers by translation, but a a bishop!" Those to whom such a dilution is necessary will perhaps be contented with the skim-milk as they cannot get the cream.--TRANS. Thy beauty, seductress, leads mortals astray, Over hearts, Lise, how vast and resistless thy sway. Cease, duchess, to blush! cease, princess, to rave-- Venus sprang from the foam of the ocean wave. All the gods pay their homage at her beauteous shrine, And adore her as potent, resistless, divine! To her Paris, the shepherd, awarded the prize, Sought by Juno the regal, and Pallas the wise.