Elizabeth I of England: the poems “The Doubt of Future Foes” (c. 1570) and “On Monsieur’s Departure” (n.d.)

It is quite well-known that Elizabeth I of England’s (1533-1603) almost 45-year rule was one of the most prolific and momentous times for English language, culture, and art. But perhaps it is less known that the Queen herself wrote poetry, and that nine of her poems are still preserved, some in fragmentary form. The two most outstanding are, perhaps, “The Doubt of Future Foes” and “On Monsieur’s Departure”, which offer an uncommonly intimate insight into a historical figure such as Elizabeth I.

“The Doubt of Future Foes” dates from around 1570, a time of much anxiety and conflict for the Queen. In that year, the break between the Kingdom of England and the Catholic Church had come to a point of no return, after Pope Pius V issued the papal bull Regnans in Excelsis. Elizabeth’s reign was exposed to both external threats -due to the constant menace posed by Spain- and to internal strife, owing to the successive plots to depose her in favour of her Catholic cousin, Mary Stuart, Queen of Scots. The poem reflects Elizabeth’s answer to these tensions and her staunch defence of her government. Although never officially published, it was distributed within various spheres of power, giving a clear sign of strength against opposition, and also as a warning against potential traitors.

This poem uses a metre that was especially cherished during the 16th and 17th centuries, commonly known as “Poulter’s measure”. It is a couplet comprising a 12-syllable verse (an alexandrine) and a 14-syllable verse (a fourteener). These verses employ iambic feet, thus forming an iambic hexameter and an iambic heptameter, respectively. Furthermore, in “The Doubt of Future Foes”, these couplets are rhyming. My Spanish translation, “Temer a enemigos futuros”, seeks to preserve the use of a regular foot, and I chose dactyls instead of iambs. Hence, my version alternates between a dactylic octodecasyllable and a 23-syllable dactylic verse (comprising two hemistichs: the first, a dactylic decasyllable; the second, a dactylic tridecasyllable). I also preserved the rhyming couplets.

Mary, Queen of Scots                                     Pius V

The doubt of future foes exiles my present joy,
And wit me warns to shun such snares as threatens mine annoy.
For falsehood now doth flow, and subjects faith doth ebb,
Which should not be, if reason ruled or wisdom weaved the web.
But clouds of toys untried do cloak aspiring minds,
Which turns to rain of late repent, by course of changed winds.
The top of hope supposed, the root of rue shall be,
And fruitless all their grafted guile, as shortly you shall see.
Their dazzled eyes with pride, which great ambition blinds,
Shall be unsealed by worthy wights whose foresight falsehood finds.
The daughter of debate, that discord aye doth sow,
Shall reap no gain where former rule still peace hath taught to grow.
No foreign banished wight shall anchor in this port:
Our realm brooks no seditious sects–let them elsewhere resort.
My rusty sword through rest shall first his edge employ
To poll their tops who seek such change or gape for future joy.

Temer a enemigos futuros exilia mi actual alegría
y el ingenio me advierte que aparte esas trampas que buscan tentarme a la ira.
Pues ya va fluyendo el infundio y del súbdito mengua la fe:
no es así donde rige razón, si la sabiduría es quien teje la red.
De nubes de juego inaudito se cubren las mentes que aspiran
y se truecan en lluvias tardías, cual postradas siguiendo los vientos que viran.
Suplántese toda esperanza en la copa: echará su raíz
una ruda atrición y verán lo infecundo de todo injertado ardid.
De orgullo ofuscados los ojos, cegados de pura codicia,
se verán desatados por dignas potestades que intuyen de lejos su insidia.
La hija de la discusión, la que anda sembrando discordia,
no tendrá su cosecha donde antes el dominio enseñó a cultivar la concordia.
Ningún desterrado extranjero siquiera anclará en nuestros puertos,
nuestro reino no admite las sectas sediciosas: que busquen en otros su asiento.
Mi espada herrumbrosa de calma por fin probará su valía
recortando la copa de aquellos fascinados por una futura alegría.

“On Monsieur’s Departure” is quite different in character, showing us an intimate, perhaps “hidden” side of Queen Elizabeth. This poem remained unpublished during her life; it was found in a private manuscript and published some decades after her death. Its composition date is unknown, but it is generally thought to refer to her failed relationship with Francis, Duke of Anjou (1555-1584), son of King Henry II of France and Catherine of Medici. Hence, it may have been written between 1572 and 1581. Both in her writings and through public gestures, Elizabeth showed a sincere fondness for Francis, whom she affectionately called “my Frog”. However, this union was cut short for political reasons. “On Monsieur’s Departure” is at once an expression of frustrated love and of tension between the private, inner, human side of Elizabeth as an individual, and the responsibilities and acts she is obliged to undertake as Queen of England, negating her personal wishes for the sake of quite a different public image.

This poem comprises three sestines, with each verse as an iambic pentameter, the archetypical metre of English poetry. Besides, it displays the following rhyming pattern: ABABCC – DEDEFF – GHGHAA. In my Spanish version, “Al partir Monsieur”, I preserved this rhyme scheme and employed the Spanish alexandrine (a 14-syllable verse divided into two heptasyllabic hemistichs), which has been widely used to translate the English pentameter.

Francis, Duke of Anjou

I grieve and dare not show my discontent;
I love, and yet am forced to seem to hate;
I do, yet dare not say I ever meant;
I seem stark mute, but inwardly do prate.
I am, and not; I freeze and yet am burned,
Since from myself another self I turned.

My care is like my shadow in the sun,
Follows me flying, flies when I pursue it,
Stands, and lies by me, doth what I have done.
His too familiar care doth make me rue it.
No means I find to rid him from my breast,
Till by the end of things it be suppressed.

Some gentler passion slide into my mind,
For I am soft and made of melting snow,
Or be more cruel, Love, and so be kind.
Let me or float or sink, be high or low;
Or let me live with some more sweet content,
Or die, and so forget what love e’er meant.

Yo sufro y no me atrevo a mostrar descontento,
yo amo y estoy forzada a parecer que odio,
yo actúo y no me animo a decir lo que quiero,
yo hago estricto silencio y por dentro dialogo.
Yo soy, también no soy; yo me hielo y yo ardo,
pues de mi misma yo en otra yo he tornado.

Mi cuidado es cual sombra que echa a mi lado el sol,
que volando me sigue y si la alcanzo vuela,
se queda junto a mí y hace lo que hice yo.
De él me es tan familiar su cuidado y me aqueja:
yo quisiera arrancármelo del pecho y no hay forma
hasta que lo suprima todo el fin de las cosas.

Adéntrese en mi mente una pasión más suave,
pues pronto me derrito como la nieve blanda,
o sé más cruel, Amor, y sé así más amable.
Deja que flote o me hunda, deja que suba o caiga,
o déjame vivir con más dulce contento
o morir sin tener del amor el recuerdo.