Madame, I cry to heaven,
And beg God,
That you may see by springtime
Your brother and husband so happy
That everyone laughs.
To the Dauphine, Catherine de Medici, barren for the first decade or so of her marriage, he grants a child:
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A Ma Dame la Daulphine
Rien n'assigne:
Elle a ce, qu'il faut avoir,
Mais je la vouldroys bien veoir
En gesine.
To Madame la Daulphine
I prescribe nothing:
She has what she needs,
But I would really like to see her
On the point of giving birth.
To Marguerite de Navarre, the king's sister, who was one of Marot's staunchest supporters:
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A la noble Marguerite,
Fleur d'eslite,
Je luy donne aussi grand heur
Que sa grace, & sa grandeur
Le merite.
To the noble Marguerite,
Flower of the elite,
I give the good fortune
That her grace and greatness
Merit.
And to Madame d'Etampes, the king's mistress:
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Sans prejudice à personne,
Je vous donne
La pomme d'or de beaulté,
Et de ferme loyaulté
La couronne,
Without wronging anyone,
I give to you
The golden apple of beauty
And the crown
Of firm loyalty. (Referring to the apple Paris bestowed on Venus in the myth and to King François's long affection)
In these brief and often mordant poems, Marot provides us a snapshot of the personalities and the concerns of the French court in 1539 --a literary version, if you will, of the Clouet's chalk portraits. One wonders if the courtiers played guessing games with the étrennes as they did with the portraits.
Though I'm no Marot, I'll follow his lead and wish you all a healthy, happy new year filled with good fortune of every kind!
[Marot's verse quoted from Gérard Defaux's edition, Classiques Garnier (1993). Translations mine.]