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Updated: June 17, 2025
"What has become of the child, I wonder!" he mused; "Where has she gone, the 'Glory-of-the-Sea'! I would give all I have to look upon her beautiful face again; and Ronsard he, poor soul silent as a stone, weakening day after day in the grasp of relentless age, would die happy, if I would let him! But I do not intend to give him that satisfaction. He shall live!
And, in honour of the architect and his sentiment, Ronsard composed his "Franciade." The detail was actually by Goujon, whose design it was, under the oversight of the master architect. One may see this chef d'oeuvre to-day just above the courtyard portal to the west.
She longed for some spot where she could weep unseen; where the sunshine and the blue sky would not mock her grief; and seeing in front of her a little clump of alders, which grew beside the stream, in a bend that in winter was marshy, she hastened towards it. Madame St. Lo saw her figure blend with the shadow of the trees. "Quite a la Ronsard, I give my word!" she murmured.
Or when he finds himself alone, pressing his lips into the depth of the flowers as the curtain gives the finale to the scene with the whispered "l'amour"! These are moments of a real lyrist, and would match any line of Banville, of Ronsard, or of Austin Dobson for delicacy of touch and feeling, for freshness, and for the precise spiritual gesture, the "intonation" of action requisite to relieve the moments from what might otherwise revert to commonplace sentimentality.
Have there, in very deed, been ages, in which the external conditions of poetry such as Rossetti's were of more spontaneous growth than in our own? The archaic side of Rossetti's work, his preferences in regard to earlier poetry, connect him with those who have certainly thought so, who fancied they could have breathed more largely in the age of Chaucer, or of Ronsard, in one of those ages, in the words of Stendhal ces siècles de passions où les âmes pouvaient se livrer franchement
He borrowed in every direction, and imitated the styles of all nations. But the general taste, however, soon returned to the Greek and Roman school. He attracted attention by ridiculing the style of Ronsard. He became the laureate of the court, and furnished for it that literature in which it was beginning to take delight.
And yet, in the rule-of-thumb ages that were to follow, he sank into such disesteem in his own country that Boileau had not a good word for him, and Voltaire roundly said of him that he "spoiled the language." Later, we have Arnauld asserting that France had only done herself dishonour by her enthusiasm for "the wretched poetry of Ronsard."
He was a man of evident culture, and his description of the coral-fishing community, their habits and traditions, was both graphic and picturesque. "Are they all away to-day?" asked the King. "All the men on this side of The Islands yes, Sir," replied Ronsard; "And the women have enough to do inside their houses till their husbands return.
The swarm returns to nature; and we lose the track of its destiny. LET us rather consider the proceedings of the swarm the apiarist shall have gathered into his hive. And first of all let us not be forgetful of the sacrifice these fifty thousand virgins have made, who, as Ronsard sings, "In a little body bear so true a heart, "
"You should not say 'tricked, my friend!" he at last ventured to remark; "Prince Humphry is an honest lad; he means to keep his word!" Ronsard looked up, his eyes gleaming with fury. "Keep his word? Bah! How can he? Who in this wide realm will give him the honourable liberty to keep his word? Will he acknowledge Gloria as his wife before the nation? she a foundling and a castaway?
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