Poems by Victor Hugo Part 15

MAZEPPA.

_("Ainsi, lorsqu'un mortel!")_

[x.x.xIV., May, 1828.]

As when a mortal--Genius' prize, alack!

Is, living, bound upon thy fatal back, Thou reinless racing steed!

In vain he writhes, mere cloud upon a star, Thou bearest him as went Mazeppa, far Out of the flow'ry mead,-- So--though thou speed'st implacable, (like him, Spent, pallid, torn, bruised, weary, sore and dim, As if each stride the nearer bring Him to the grave)--when comes _the time_, After the fall, he rises--KING!

H.L. WILLIAMS

THE DANUBE IN WRATH.

_("Quoi! ne pouvez-vous vivre ensemble?")_

[x.x.xV., June, 1828.]

The River Deity upbraids his Daughters, the contributary Streams:--

Ye daughters mine! will naught abate Your fierce interminable hate?

Still am I doomed to rue the fate That such unfriendly neighbors made?

The while ye might, in peaceful cheer, Mirror upon your waters clear, Semlin! thy Gothic steeples dear, And thy bright minarets, Belgrade!

_Fraser's Magazine_

OLD OCEAN.

_("J'etais seul pres des flots.")_

[x.x.xVII., September 5, 1828.]

I stood by the waves, while the stars soared in sight, Not a cloud specked the sky, not a sail shimmered bright; Scenes beyond this dim world were revealed to mine eye; And the woods, and the hills, and all nature around, Seem'd to question with moody, mysterious sound, The waves, and the pure stars on high.

And the clear constellations, that infinite throng, While thousand rich harmonies swelled in their song, Replying, bowed meekly their diamond-blaze-- And the blue waves, which nothing may bind or arrest, Chorus'd forth, as they stooped the white foam of their crest "Creator! we bless thee and praise!"

R.C. ELLWOOD

MY NAPOLEON.

_("Toujours lui! lui partout!")_

[XL., December, 1828.]

Above all others, everywhere I see His image cold or burning!

My brain it thrills, and oftentime sets free The thoughts within me yearning.

My quivering lips pour forth the words That cl.u.s.ter in his name of glory-- The star gigantic with its rays of swords Whose gleams irradiate all modern story.

I see his finger pointing where the sh.e.l.l Should fall to slay most rabble, And save foul regicides; or strike the knell Of weaklings 'mid the tribunes' babble.

A Consul then, o'er young but proud, With midnight poring thinned, and sallow, But dreams of Empire pierce the transient cloud, And round pale face and lank locks form the halo.

And soon the Caesar, with an eye a-flame Whole nations' contact urging To gain his soldiers gold and fame Oh, Sun on high emerging, Whose dazzling l.u.s.tre fired the h.e.l.ls Embosomed in grim bronze, which, free, arose To change five hundred thousand base-born Tells, Into his host of half-a-million heroes!

What! next a captive? Yea, and caged apart.

No weight of arms enfolded Can crush the turmoil in that seething heart Which Nature--not her journeymen--self-moulded.

Let sordid jailers vex their prize; But only bends that brow to lightning, As gazing from the seaward rock, his sighs Cleave through the storm and haste where France looms bright'ning.

Alone, but greater! Broke the sceptre, true!

Yet lingers still some power-- In tears of woe man's metal may renew The temper of high hour; For, bating breath, e'er list the kings The pinions clipped may grow! the Eagle May burst, in frantic thirst for home, the rings And rend the Bulldog, Fox, and Bear, and Beagle!

And, lastly, grandest! 'tween dark sea and here Eternal brightness coming!

The eye so weary's freshened with a tear As rises distant drumming, And wailing cheer--they pa.s.s the pale His army mourns though still's the end hid; And from his war-stained cloak, he answers "Hail!"

And spurns the bed of gloom for throne aye-splendid!

H.L. WILLIAMS.

LES FEUILLES D'AUTOMNE.--1831.

THE PATIENCE OF THE PEOPLE.

_("Il s'est dit tant de fois.")_

[III., May, 1830.]