(“Mon pere, ce heros au sourire.”) [Bk. XLIX. iv.] My sire, the hero with the smile so soft, And a tall trooper, his companion oft, Whom he loved greatly for his courage high And strength and stature, as the night drew nigh Rode out together. The battle was done; The dead strewed the field; long […]

(“Il est nuit. La cabane est pauvre.”) [Bk. LII. iii.] ‘Tis night–within the close stout cabin door, The room is wrapped in shade save where there fall Some twilight rays that creep along the floor, And show the fisher’s nets upon the wall. In the dim corner, from the oaken chest, A few white dishes […]

(“Orphee au bois du Caystre.”) [Bk. I. ii.] Orpheus, through the hellward wood Hurried, ere the eve-star glowed, For the fauns’ lugubrious hoots Followed, hollow, from crooked roots; Aeschylus, where Aetna smoked, Gods of Sicily evoked With the flute, till sulphur taint Dulled and lulled the echoes faint; Pliny, soon his style mislaid, Dogged Miletus’ […]

MENTANA[1] (VICTOR HUGO TO GARIBALDI.) (“Ces jeunes gens, combien etaient-ils.”) [LA VOIX DE GUERNESEY, December, 1868.] I. Young soldiers of the noble Latin blood, How many are ye–Boys? Four thousand odd. How many are there dead? Six hundred: count! Their limbs lie strewn about the fatal mount, Blackened and torn, eyes gummed with blood, hearts […]

(“Vous eutes donc hier un an.”) [September, 1870.] You’ve lived a year, then, yesterday, sweet child, Prattling thus happily! So fledglings wild, New-hatched in warmer nest ‘neath sheltering bough, Chirp merrily to feel their feathers grow. Your mouth’s a rose, Jeanne! In these volumes grand Whose pictures please you–while I trembling stand To see their […]

[FOR MY LITTLE CHILD ONLY.] (“Tas de feux tombants.”) [Bk. III. vii.] See the scintillating shower! Like a burst from golden mine– Incandescent coals that pour From the incense-bowl divine, And around us dewdrops, shaken, Mirror each a twinkling ray ‘Twixt the flowers that awaken In this glory great as day. Mists and fogs all […]

(“Enfants, on vous dira plus tard.”) [January, 1871.] In later years, they’ll tell you grandpapa Adored his little darlings; for them did His utmost just to pleasure them and mar No moments with a frown or growl amid Their rosy rompings; that he loved them so (Though men have called him bitter, cold, and stern,) […]

(“Oh! qu’est-ce que c’est donc que l’Inconnu.”) [January, 1871.] Who then–oh, who, is like our God so great, Who makes the seed expand beneath the mountain’s weight; Who for a swallow’s nest leaves one old castle wall, Who lets for famished beetles savory apples fall, Who bids a pigmy win where Titans fail, in yoke, […]

(“Si vous continuez toute pale.”) [November, 1870.] If you continue thus so wan and white; If I, one day, behold You pass from out our dull air to the light, You, infant–I, so old: If I the thread of our two lives must see Thus blent to human view, I who would fain know death […]

(“Charle! o mon fils!”) [March, 1871.] Charles, Charles, my son! hast thou, then, quitted me? Must all fade, naught endure? Hast vanished in that radiance, clear for thee, But still for us obscure? My sunset lingers, boy, thy morn declines! Sweet mutual love we’ve known; For man, alas! plans, dreams, and smiling twines With others’ […]

(“O caresse sublime.”) [April, 1871.] Upon the grave’s cold mouth there ever have caresses clung For those who died ideally good and grand and pure and young; Under the scorn of all who clamor: “There is nothing just!” And bow to dread inquisitor and worship lords of dust; Let sophists give the lie, hearts droop, […]

(“Sur une barricade.”) [June, 1871.] Like Casabianca on the devastated deck, In years yet younger, but the selfsame core. Beside the battered barricado’s restless wreck, A lad stood splashed with gouts of guilty gore, But gemmed with purest blood of patriot more. Upon his fragile form the troopers’ bloody grip Was deeply dug, while sharply […]

(“O Charles, je te sens pres de moi.”) [July, 1871.] I feel thy presence, Charles. Sweet martyr! down In earth, where men decay, I search, and see from cracks which rend thy tomb, Burst out pale morning’s ray. Close linked are bier and cradle: here the dead, To charm us, live again: Kneeling, I mourn, […]

(“Un lion avait pris un enfant.”) [XIII.] A Lion in his jaws caught up a child– Not harming it–and to the woodland, wild With secret streams and lairs, bore off his prey– The beast, as one might cull a bud in May. It was a rosy boy, a king’s own pride, A ten-year lad, with […]

(“Prenez garde a ce petit etre.”) [LAUS PUER: POEM V.] Take heed of this small child of earth; He is great: in him is God most high. Children before their fleshly birth Are lights in the blue sky. In our brief bitter world of wrong They come; God gives us them awhile. His speech is […]

On Hearing the Princess Royal[1] Sing (“Dans ta haute demeure.”) [Bk. III. ix., 1881.] In thine abode so high Where yet one scarce can breathe, Dear child, most tenderly A soft song thou dost wreathe. Thou singest, little girl– Thy sire, the King is he: Around thee glories whirl, But all things sigh in thee. […]

(“J’aime a me figure.”) [Bk. III. vii. and viii.] I love to look, as evening fails, On vestals streaming in their veils, Within the fane past altar rails, Green palms in hand. My darkest moods will always clear When I can fancy children near, With rosy lips a-laughing–dear, Light-dancing band! Enchanting vision, too, displayed, That […]

(“Jamais elle ne raille.”) [Bk. III. xiii.] Where your brood seven lie, Float in calm heavenly, Life passing evenly, Waterfowl, waterfowl! often I dream For a rest Like your nest, Skirting the stream. Shine the sun tearfully Ere the clouds clear fully, Still you skim cheerfully, Swallow, oh! swallow swift! often I sigh For a […]

(“Il vivait, il jouait.”) [Bk. III. xv., May, 1843.] He lived and ever played, the tender smiling thing. What need, O Earth, to have plucked this flower from blossoming? Hadst thou not then the birds with rainbow-colors bright, The stars and the great woods, the wan wave, the blue sky? What need to have rapt […]

(“Sentiers ou l’herbe se balance.”) [Bk. III. xi., July, 1853.] O paths whereon wild grasses wave! O valleys! hillsides! forests hoar! Why are ye silent as the grave? For One, who came, and comes no more! Why is thy window closed of late? And why thy garden in its sear? O house! where doth thy […]