They lifted him up, used instant means for his recovery, but all was vain; their hope, their joy, their treasure, was gone: Francois Phoebus--the young, beautiful, and good--was dying.

Poison had done its work, and treason was successful: he lived but a few minutes, and his last words were suitable to his pure life.

When he saw his distracted mother and sister hanging over him in agony, he whispered, "Do not lament, my reign is not of this world: I leave the things of earth, and go to my father." What a scene of desolation ensued to the country and the bereaved mother, who had so long struggled with accumulated misfortune! To add to the difficulties of her position, her only support, Louis XI., just then died, and, beset by ambitious ministers and selfish counsellors, betrayed, deceived, and thwarted, the unfortunate Magdelaine sunk under her sorrows, and soon followed her fair son to the grave.
He was buried in great pomp at the cathedral of St.Marie of Lescar, and his young sister, Catherine, was left to reign in his place.

Of her Providence made its peculiar care, and her fate, which threatened ill, was happily turned aside.
Olhagaray, the historian of Bearn, gives the affecting answer of the Countess Magdelaine to the ambassador of Spain, who, immediately after her son's death, came to her Court to treat for the hand of the young Queen Catherine.

It was thus she spoke, "with an infinity of sobs and tears:" "Gentlemen,--You find me in poor condition to receive you according to your merits: but you see my desolation and misery, and the ruin which is come upon me.