Poems by Victor Hugo Part 45

The sand runs, monarchs! the clepsydra weeps.

Wherefore? They see through future's gloomy deeps, Through the church wall, into the catacomb, And mark the change when thrones do graves become.

THE FIFTH SPHINX.

To swerve the earth seemed from its wonted path When marched the Four of Asia in their wrath, And when they were bound slaves to Cyrus' car, The rivers shrank back from their banks afar.

"Who can this be," was Nineveh's appeal; "Who dares to drag the G.o.ds at his car-wheel?"

The ground is still there that these wheel-rims tore-- The people and the armies are no more.

THE SIXTH SPHINX.

Never again Cambyses earth will tread.

He slept, and rotted, for his ghost had fled.

So long as sovereigns live, the subjects kneel, Crouching like spaniels at their royal heel; But when their might flies, they are shunned by all, Save worms, which--human-like--still to them crawl On Troy or Memphis, on Pyrrhus the Great, Or on Psammeticus, alike falls fate.

Those who in rightful purple are arrayed, The prideful vanquisher, like vanquished, fade.

Death grins as he the fallen man bestrides-- And less of faults than of his glories hides.

THE SEVENTH SPHINX.

The time is come for Belus' tomb to fall, Long has been ruined its high granite wall; And its cupola, sister of the cloud, Has now to lowest mire its tall head bowed.

The herdsman comes to it to choose the stones To build a hut, and overturns the bones, From which he has just scared a jackal pack, Waiting to gnaw them when he turns his back.

Upon this scene the night is doubly night, And the lone pa.s.ser vainly strains his sight, Musing: Was Belus not buried near this spot?

The royal resting-place is now forgot.

THE EIGHTH SPHINX.

The inmates of the Pyramids a.s.sume The hue of Rhamesis, black with the gloom.

A Jailer who ne'er needs bolts, bars, or hasps, Is Death. With unawed hand a G.o.d he grasps, He thrusts, to stiffen, in a narrow case, Or cell, where struggling air-blasts constant moan; Walling them round with huge, damp, slimy stone; And (leaving mem'ry of bloodshed as drink, And thoughts of crime as food) he stops each c.h.i.n.k.

THE NINTH SPHINX.

Who would see Cleopatra on her bed?

Come in. The place is filled with fog like lead, Which clammily has settled on the frame Of her who was a burning, dazzling flame To all mankind--who durst not lift their gaze, And meet the brightness of her beauty's rays.

Her teeth were pearls, her breath a rare perfume.

Men died with love on entering her room.

Poised 'twixt the world and her--acme of joys!

Antony took her of the double choice.

The ice-cold heart that pa.s.sion seldom warms, Would find heat torrid in that queen's soft arms.

She won without a single woman's wile, Illumining the earth with peerless smile.

Come in!--but m.u.f.fle closely up your face, No grateful scents have ta'en sweet odors' place.

THE TENTH SPHINX.

What did the greatest king that e'er earth bore, Sennacherib? No matter--he's no more!

What were the words Sardanapalus said?

Who cares to hear--that ruler long is dead.

The Soudan, turning pale, stared at the TEN aghast.

"Before to-morrow's night," he said, "in dust to rest, These walls with croaking images shall be downcast; I will not have fiends speak when angels are addressed."

But while Zim at the Sphinxes clenched his hand and shook, The cup in which it seems the rich wine sweetly breathes, The cup with jewels sparkling, met his lowered look, Dwelling on the rim which the rippling wine enwreathes.

"Ha! You!" Zim cried, "have often cleared my heated head Of heavy thoughts which your great lord have come to seek And torture with their pain and weight like molten lead.

Let us two--power, I--you, wine--together speak."

THE CUP.

"Phur," spoke the Cup, "O king, dwelt as Day's G.o.d, Ruled Alexandria with sword and rod.

He from his people drew force after force, Leaving in ev'ry clime an army's corse.

But what gained he by having, like the sea, Flooded with human waves to enslave the free?

Where lies the good in having been the chief In conquering, to cause a nation's grief?

Darius, a.s.sar-addon, Hamilcar; Who have led men in legions out to war, Or have o'er Time's shade cast rays from their seat, Or throngs in worship made their name repeat, These were, but all the cup of life have drank; Rising 'midst clamor, they in stillness sank.

Death's dart beat down the sword--the kings high reared, Were brought full low--judges, like culprits, feared.

The body--when the soul had ceased its sway-- Was placed where earth upon it heavy lay, While seek the mouldering bones rare oils anoint Claw of tree's root and tooth of rocky point.

Weeds thrive on them who made the world a mart Of human flesh, plants force their joints apart.

No deed of eminence the greatest saves, And of mausoleums make panthers caves."

The Cup, Zim, in his fury, dashed upon the floor, Crying aloud for lights. Slaves, at his angry call, In to him hastily, a candelabra bore, And set it, branching o'er the table, in the hall, From whose wide bounds it hunted instantly the gloom.

"Ah, light!" exclaimed the Soudan, "welcome light, all hail!

Dull witnesses were yonder Sphinxes of this room; The Cup was always drunk, in wit did ever fail; But you fling gleams forth brightly, dazzling as a torch; Vainly to quell your power all Night's attempts are spent; The murky, black-eyed clouds you eat away and scorch, Making where'er you spring to life an Orient.

To charm your lord give voice, thou spark of paradise!

Speak forth against the Sphinxes' enigmatic word, And 'gainst the Wine-Cup, with its sharp and biting spice!"

THE LAMP.

Oh, Crusher of Countless Cities, such as earth knew Scarce once before him, Ninus (who his brother slew), Was borne within the walls which, in a.s.syrian rite, Were built to hide dead majesty from outer sight.

If eye of man the gift uncommon could a.s.sume, And pierce the ma.s.s, thick, black as hea.r.s.e's plume, To where lays on a horrifying bed What was King Ninus, now hedged round with dread, 'Twould see by what is shadow of the light, A line of feath'ry dust, bones marble-white.

A shudder overtakes the pois'nous snakes When they glide near that powder, laid in flakes.

Death comes at times to him--_Life_ comes no more!

And sets a jug and loaf upon the floor.

He then with bony foot the corpse o'erturns, And says: "It is I, Ninus! 'Tis Death who spurns!

I bring thee, hungry king, some bread and meat."

"I have no hands," Ninus replies. "Yet, eat!"

Zim pierced to the very quick by these repeated stabs, Sprang to his feet, while from him pealed a fearful shout, And, furious, flung down upon the marble slabs The richly carved and golden Lamp, whose light went out-- Then glided in a form strange-shaped, In likeness of a woman, moulded in dense smoke, Veiled in thick, ebon fog, in utter darkness draped, A glimpse of which, in short, one's inmost fears awoke.

Zim was alone with her, this G.o.ddess of the Night.

The ma.s.sy walls of stone like vapor part and fade, Zim, shuddering, tried to call guard or satellite, But as the figure grasped him firmly, "Come!" she said.

BP. ALEXANDER

A QUEEN FIVE SUMMERS OLD.

_("Elle est toute pet.i.te.")_

[Bk. XXVI.]

She is so little--in her hands a rose: A stern duenna watches where she goes, What sees Old Spain's Infanta--the clear shine Of waters shadowed by the birch and pine.

What lies before? A swan with silver wing, The wave that murmurs to the branch's swing, Or the deep garden flowering below?