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 à mon époux, lors, quand tournait après un an d'absence, mis en ses bras notre fils enfançon."
The pretty burthen of this little ballad has often been quoted.
Faut être deux pour avoir du plaisir,
Plaisir ne l'est qu'autant qu'on le partage!
But, says the mother,
Un tiers si doux ne fait tort à plaisir?
and should her husband be again torn from her, she will console herself in his absence, by teaching her boy to lisp his father's name.
Gentil époux! si Mars et ton courage
Plus contraignaient ta Clotilde à gémir,
De lui montrer en son petit langage,
A t'appeller ferai tout mon plaisir—
Plaisir ne l'est qu'autant qu'on le partage!
Among some other little poems, which place the conjugal and maternal character of Clotilde in a most charming light, I must notice one more for its tender and heartfelt beauty. It is entitled "Ballade à mon premier né," and is addressed to her child, apparently in the absence of its father.
O chèr enfantelet, vrai portrait de ton père!
Dors sur le sein que ta bouche a pressé!
Dors petit!—clos, ami, sur le sein de ta mère,
Tien doux œillet, par le somme oppressé.