Ballad of Old-Time Ladies

Tell me where, in what land of shade,
Bides fair Flora of Rome, and where
Are Thais and Archipiade,
Cousins-german of beauty rare,
And Echo, more than mortal fair,
That, when one calls by river-flow
Or marish, answers out of the air ?
But what is become of last year's snow ?

Where did the learn'd Heloisa vade,
For whose sake Abelard might not spare
(Such dole for love on him was laid)
Manhood to lose and a cowl to wear ?
And where is the queen who willed whilere
That Buridan, tied in a sack, should go
Floating down Seine from the turret-stair ?
But what is become of last year's snow ?

Blanche, too, the lily-white queen, that made
Sweet music as if she a siren were ;
Broad-foot Bertha ; and Joan the maid,
The good Lorrainer, the English bart
Captive to Rouen and burned her there ;
Beatrix, Eremburge, Alys, — lo !
Where are they, Virgin debonair ?
But what is become of last year's snow ?

Envoi
Prince, you may question how they fare
This week, or liefer this year, I trow :
Still shall the answer this burden bear,
But what is become of last year's snow ?