(“Laissez-moi pleurer sur cette race.”) Oh! let me weep that race whose day is past, By exile given, by exile claimed once more, Thrice swept away upon that fatal blast. Whate’er its blame, escort we to our shore These relics of the monarchy of yore; And to th’ outmarching oriflamme be paid War’s honors by […]

(“Tu domines notre age; ange ou demon, qu’importe!”) Angel or demon! thou,–whether of light The minister, or darkness–still dost sway This age of ours; thine eagle’s soaring flight Bears us, all breathless, after it away. The eye that from thy presence fain would stray, Shuns thee in vain; thy mighty shadow thrown Rests on all […]

(“Quand longtemps a gronde la bouche du Vesuve.”) When huge Vesuvius in its torment long, Threatening has growled its cavernous jaws among, When its hot lava, like the bubbling wine, Foaming doth all its monstrous edge incarnadine, Then is alarm in Naples. With dismay, Wanton and wild her weeping thousands pour, Convulsive grasp the ground, […]

(“La salle est magnifique.”) The hall is gay with limpid lustre bright– The feast to pampered palate gives delight– The sated guests pick at the spicy food, And drink profusely, for the cheer is good; And at that table–where the wise are few– Both sexes and all ages meet the view; The sturdy warrior with […]

(“Non, l’avenir n’est a personne!”) [V. ii., August, 1832.] Sire, beware, the future’s range Is of God alone the power, Naught below but augurs change, E’en with ev’ry passing hour. Future! mighty mystery! All the earthly goods that be, Fortune, glory, war’s renown, King or kaiser’s sparkling crown, Victory! with her burning wings, Proud ambition’s […]

(“Encore si ce banni n’eut rien aime sur terre.”) [V, iv., August, 1832.] Too hard Napoleon’s fate! if, lone, No being he had loved, no single one, Less dark that doom had been. But with the heart of might doth ever dwell The heart of love! and in his island cell Two things there were–I […]

(“Ainsi l’Hotel de Ville illumine.”) [VI., May, 1833.] Behold the ball-room flashing on the sight, From step to cornice one grand glare of light; The noise of mirth and revelry resounds, Like fairy melody on haunted grounds. But who demands this profuse, wanton glee, These shouts prolonged and wild festivity– Not sure our city–web, more […]

(“O Dieu, si vous avez la France.”) [VII., August, 1832.] O God! if France be still thy guardian care, Oh! spare these mercenary combats, spare! The thrones that now are reared but to be broke; The rights we render, and anon revoke; The muddy stream of laws, ideas, needs, Flooding our social life as it […]

(“Canaris! nous t’avons oublie.”) [VIII., October, 1832.] O Canaris! O Canaris! the poet’s song Has blameful left untold thy deeds too long! But when the tragic actor’s part is done, When clamor ceases, and the fights are won, When heroes realize what Fate decreed, When chieftains mark no more which thousands bleed; When they have […]

(“Seule au pied de la tour.”) Alone, beneath the tower whence thunder forth The mandates of the Tyrant of the North, Poland’s sad genius kneels, absorbed in tears, Bound, vanquished, pallid with her fears– Alas! the crucifix is all that’s left To her, of freedom and her sons bereft; And on her royal robe foul […]

(“Oh! n’insultez jamais une femme qui tombe.”) [XIV., Sept. 6, 1835.] I tell you, hush! no word of sneering scorn– True, fallen; but God knows how deep her sorrow. Poor girl! too many like her only born To love one day–to sin–and die the morrow. What know you of her struggles or her grief? Or […]

(“L’aurore s’allume.”) [XX. a, December, 1834.] Morning glances hither, Now the shade is past; Dream and fog fly thither Where Night goes at last; Open eyes and roses As the darkness closes; And the sound that grows is Nature walking fast. Murmuring all and singing, Hark! the news is stirred, Roof and creepers clinging, Smoke […]

(“S’il est un charmant gazon.”) [XXII, Feb. 18, 1834.] If there be a velvet sward By dewdrops pearly drest, Where through all seasons fairies guard Flowers by bees carest, Where one may gather, day and night, Roses, honeysuckle, lily white, I fain would make of it a site For thy foot to rest. If there […]

Sweet Charmer.[1] (“L’aube nait et ta porte est close.”) [XXIII., February, 18–.] Though heaven’s gate of light uncloses, Thou stirr’st not–thou’rt laid to rest, Waking are thy sister roses, One only dreamest on thy breast. Hear me, sweet dreamer! Tell me all thy fears, Trembling in song, But to break in tears. Lo! to greet […]

(“Puisque j’ai mis ma levre a ta coupe.”) [XXV., Jan. 1, 1835.] Since I have set my lips to your full cup, my sweet, Since I my pallid face between your hands have laid, Since I have known your soul, and all the bloom of it, And all the perfume rare, now buried in the […]

(“Soyez comme l’oiseau.”) [XXXIII. vi.] Thou art like the bird That alights and sings Though the frail spray bends– For he knows he has wings. Translated by FANNY KEMBLE (BUTLER)

(“Roses et Papillons.”) [XXVII., Dec. 7, 1834.] The grave receives us all: Ye butterflies and roses gay and sweet Why do ye linger, say? Will ye not dwell together as is meet? Somewhere high in the air Would thy wing seek a home ‘mid sunny skies, In mead or mossy dell– If there thy odors […]

(“A toi, toujours a toi.”) [XXXIX., 1823] To thee, all time to thee, My lyre a voice shall be! Above all earthly fashion, Above mere mundane rage, Your mind made it my passion To write for noblest stage. Whoe’er you be, send blessings to her–she Was sister of my soul immortal, free! My pride, my […]

(“Qui leur eut dit l’austere destinee?”) [Footnote 3: After the Eagle and the Bee superseded the Lily-flowers, the Third Napoleon’s initial “N” flourished for two decades, but has been excised or plastered over, the words “National Property” or “Liberty, Equality, Fraternity” being cut in the stone profusely.]

(“Dans les vieilles forets.”) [X., April 20, 1837.] Through ancient forests–where like flowing tide The rising sap shoots vigor far and wide, Mounting the column of the alder dark And silv’ring o’er the birch’s shining bark– Hast thou not often, Albert Duerer, strayed Pond’ring, awe-stricken–through the half-lit glade, Pallid and trembling–glancing not behind From mystic […]