It chanced the saintly abbess of this pile

To Blois had journeyed, there to stay awhile,
Her convent's privileges to maintain,

Who while thus absent, had consigned the reign.
To Nun Besogne who watched the holy crew.
This sister forthwith to the parlor flew,
And gate, to welcome Agnes, opened wide;
"Enter young traveller," anon she cried;
"What fostering patron, or what joyous day
Hath to our altars prompted thus to stray
This beauty dangerous to human sight?
You rank some saint or angel blessed of light,
Thus having quitted heaven's empyreal glow,
To honor mundane sinners here below,
And to console our sisters of the Lord."
"Ah!" replied Agnes: "You to me accord
Far too much honor; I'm but a worldly soul,
Have all my youth, owned flagrant sin's control,
And should I bliss of Paradise e'er ken,
My seat will be beside Saint Magdalen.
That destiny which fate capricious willed,
The Lord my stars but most my steed fulfilled;
Nor know I to this spot how I was brought,
With deep remorse I feel my bosom fraught;
Mine heart to sin is not yet callous grown,

I reverence virtue, though expelled her throne; Here have I found her. By that grace I'm blessed, Which for salvation, dooms me here to rest."

To this our errant fair anon agreed,

And sought the couch as acting pious deed;

A saint she thinks herself absolved from ill,
But fate on every side pursues her still.

Sister Besogne gave tender feelings vent,
Gently encouraging our penitent;

And lauds of grace divine the heavenly spell,
Agnes conducting forthwith to her cell;
Chamber illumined, decked with flowers and neat,
Of costly ornaments the charming seat,
With soft and ample bed. It seemed love's hand
The varied charms of this retreat had planned;
Agnes lauds Providence in breathings low,
Confessing sweets that from repentance flow.

The supper done (for I will never fail

To note this point essential through my tale) Besogne the charming stranger thus addressed: "Thou knowest, my love, night rears her sable crest;

'Tis now the time when wicked spirits prowl, To tempt, on every side, the saintly soul;

'Tis fitting we a worthy feat perform

Let's sleep together, that should Satan's storm
Against us rise, we may thus, being two,
Give Beelzebub himself too much to do."

Can I, O reader, without sense of shame,
What Sister Besogne truly was proclaim?
I must be candid, and reveal the truth,
Sister Besogne was an unmarried youth;
Of Hercules possessing all the power,

And of Adonis beauty's manly flower,

His one and twentieth year not yet complete,
As white as milk, fresh as the dew and sweet;
The lady abbess, a right crafty elf,

Of late, as friend, had ta'en him to herself;
Thus sister bachelor in convent staid,
Teaching his lovely flock a fruitful trade:
As when Achilles, clad in maiden's guise,
At Lycomedes' court obtained the prize;
Blessed in possessing Deidamas' charms,
Caressing and caressed within her arms.

Scarce had our penitent on couch reclined
With sister chaste, when lo! she 'gan to find
In nun a metamorphosis most strange,
No doubt she profited by the exchange;
To scream, complain, the convent to alarm,
Had proved a scandal only fraught with harm;
To bear in quiet, sigh, and peaceful lay,
To be resigned was then the only way;
Besides, in cases similar 'tis rare,

We of reflection boast sufficient share;

When nun Besogne, to Claustral frenzy prone-
For all things cease love's interval had known,
The witching Agnes with a contrite heart,
Reflected thus: "Well, really, for my part,
'Tis mostly vain whene'er I feel the rage
To rank as woman virtuous and sage;
In vain we strive to shun those ills we know,
We can't be virtuous, though we'd fain be so."

NOTES TO CANTO X.

10 gentle Protheus, Love's a mighty lord,
And hath so humbled me, as I confess,
There is no woe to his correction;

Nor to his service, no such joy on earth.

Now no discourse, except it be of love;
Now can I break my fast, dine, sup and sleep,
Upon the very naked name of Love.

SHAKESPEARE.

2 It appears that the personage thus delineated by our poet was not a kingly parasite of Bonneau's class, so ably portrayed by La Fontaine in these lines:

Les COURTISANS ne sont que de simples ressorts:
Sont ce qu'il plaît au Prince; ou s'ils ne peuvent l'être
Tâchent au moins de le paroître;

Peuple Caméléon, peuple singe du Maître.

3 Account of the extraordinary malady of Charles the Sixth, translated from the History of Jean Juvenal des Ursius.

"About the beginning of August, it was apparent that the king, in his words and actions, became somewhat changed, at which period he expressed a desire of riding armed in the open country; in consequence of which he mounted on horseback, when, after proceeding some way, there came to meet him an ill-looking man, in wretched attire, poor, and of miserable appearance (some authors state he wore the garb of a hermit), who, seizing the bridle of his palfrey, thus addressed the monarch: ‘King, where goest thou? Proceed no farther; thou are betrayed, and it is intended to deliver thee into the hands of thine adversaries. Upon this Charles the Sixth immediately became frantic, running distractedly in all directions, and striking whomsoever he met; by which action, four men were killed. Every effort was diligently pursued in order

to secure the king, who was conducted to his chamber and placed upon a bed, where he continued, neither moving hands nor feet, being to all appearance dead; and, upon the arrival of the physicians, they adjudged him to be gone past all hopes of recovery; every one wept and lamented; and in this state he was exposed to the view of all who wished to behold him." This singular occurrence took place in the forest of Mans, which Charles was traversing, in order to go to the attack of the Duke of Brittany, he having avowed himself the protector of Pierre de Creon, who had assassinated the Constable de Clisson, in Paris. Charles, however, recovered, and lived for twenty-two years afterwards, being frequently subject to these strange attacks, and died at the Hotel of Saint Pol, in the fifty-third year of his age.

4 The profession of a judicial astrologer is pretending to know futurity by the position and judging of the influence of heavenly bodies, and in arranging the celestial sphere after his own vague conception. Astrology is a term frequently confounded with that of astronomy; a most gross and palpable error among the unlettered; as the former comprehends but a chimerical science, whereas the latter is a research the most sublime and useful. We find the ancients frequently guilty of this grand mistake; Thales and Pherecydes are denominated astrologers, though they were very experienced astronomers. If we are to credit the astrologer's creed, the face of heaven is a book wherein is traced the history of the world, and on the page of which every one is enabled to peruse his own destiny. What has acquired these practitioners so much credit is, that their multiplicity of false prophecies are forgotten, if by chance one of their prognostics happens to come true. It is affirmed, that Cardan, having predicted that he should die upon a certain day, literally starved himself in order to verify his prediction and support the tenets of astrology. This fallacious doctrine, although opposed by the most able writers, has nevertheless found its votaries in every age, among whom have figured men possessing erudition and science, which accorded but ill with tenets so dia