She then describes her lonely state, her grief for his absence, her pining for his return. She laments the horrors of war which have torn him from her; but in a strain of eloquent poetry, and in the spirit of a high-souled woman, to whom her husband's honour was dear as his life, she calls on him to perform all that his duty as a brave knight, and his loyalty to his sovereign require. She reminds him, with enthusiasm, of the motto of French chivalry, "mourir plutot que trahir son devoir;" then suddenly breaking off, with a graceful and wife-like modesty, she wonders at her own presumption thus to address her lord, her husband, the son of a race of heroes,-- Mais que dis! ah d'ou vient qu'orgueilleuse t'advise! Toi, escolier! toi, l'enfant des heros Pardonne maintes soucis a celle qui t'adore-- A tant d'amour, est permis quelque effroi. She describes herself looking out from the tower of her castle to watch the return of his banner; she tells him how she again and again visits the scenes endeared by the remembrance of their mutual happiness. The most beautiful touches of description are here mingled with the fond expressions of feminine tenderness. La, me dis-je, ai recu sa derniere caresse, Et jusqu'aux os, soudain, me sens bruler. Ici les ung ormeil, cercle par aubespine Que doux printemps ja[20] courronnait de fleurs, Me dit adieu--Sanglots suffoquent ma poctrine, Et dans mes yeux roulent torrents de pleurs. ....*....*....*....* D'autresfois, ecartant ces cruelles images, Crois m'enfoncant au plus dense des bois, Meler des rossignols aux amoureuse ramages, Entre tes bras, mon amoureux voix: Me semble ouir, echappant de ta bouche rosee, Ces mots gentils, qui me font tressaillir, Ainz[21] vois au meme instant que me suis abusee Et soupirant, suis prete a defailler! After indulging in other regrets, expressed with rather more naivete than suits the present taste, she bursts into an eloquent invective against the English invaders[22] and the factious nobles of France, whose crimes and violence detained her husband from her arms. Quand reverrai, dis-moi, ton si duisant[23] visage? Quand te pourrai face a face mirer? T'enlacer tellement a mon frement[24] corsage, Que toi, ni moi, n'en puissions respirer? and she concludes with this tender _envoi_: Ou que suives ton roi, ne mets ta douce amie En tel oubli, qu'ignore ou git ce lieu: Jusqu'alors en souci, de calme n'aura mie,-- Plus ne t'en dis--que t'en souvienne! adieu! Clotilde became a mother before the return of her husband; and the delicious moment in which she first placed her infant in his father's arms, suggested the verses she has entitled "Ballade a mon epoux, lors, quand tournait apres un an d'absence, mis en ses bras notre fils enfancon." The pretty burthen of this little ballad has often been quoted.