Poems by Victor Hugo Part 54

_("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 of a sweet and radiant maid, Who knows not why she is afraid,-- Love's yet unseen!

Another--rarest 'mong the rare-- To see the gaze of chosen fair Return prolonged and wistful stare Of eager een.

But--dream o'er all to stir my soul, And shine the brightest on the roll, Is when a land of tyrant's toll By sword is rid.

I say not dagger--with the sword When Right enchampions the horde, All in broad day--so that the bard May sing the victor with the starred Bayard and Cid!

AN OLD-TIME LAY.

_("Jamais elle ne raille.")_

[Bk. III. xiii.]

Where your brood seven lie, Float in calm heavenly, Life pa.s.sing 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 home Where you roam Nearing the sky!

Guileless of pondering; Swallow-eyes wandering; Seeking no fonder ring Than the rose-garland Love gives thee apart!

Grant me soon-- Blessed boon!

Home in thy heart!

JERSEY.

_("Jersey dort dans les flots.")_

[Bk. III. xiv., Oct. 8, 1854.]

Dear Jersey! jewel jubilant and green, 'Midst surge that splits steel ships, but sings to thee!

Thou fav'rest Frenchmen, though from England seen, Oft tearful to that mistress "North Countree"; Returned the third time safely here to be, I bless my bold Gibraltar of the Free.

Yon lighthouse stands forth like a fervent friend, One who our tempest buffets back with zest, And with twin-steeple, eke our helmsman's end, Forms arms that beckon us upon thy breast; Rose-posied pillow, crystallized with spray, Where pools pellucid mirror sunny ray.

A frigate fretting yonder smoothest sky, Like pauseless petrel poising o'er a wreck, Strikes bright athwart the dearly dazzled eye, Until it lessens to scarce certain speck, 'Neath Venus, sparkling on the agate-sprinkled beach, For fisher's sailing-signal, just and true, Until Aurora frights her from the view.

In summer, steamer-smoke spreads as thy veil, And mists in winter sudden screen thy sight, When at thy feet the galley-breakers wail And toss their tops high o'er the lofty flight Of horrid storm-worn steps with shark-like bite, That only ope to swallow up in spite.

L'ENVOY.

But penitent in calm, thou givest a balm, To many a man who's felt thy rage, And many a sea-bird--thanks be heard!-- Thou shieldest--sea-bird--exiled bard and sage.

THEN, MOST, I SMILE.

_("Il est un peu tard.")_

[Bk. III. x.x.x., Oct. 30, 1854.]

Late it is to look so proud, Daisy queen! come is the gloom Of the winter-burdened cloud!-- "But, in winter, most I bloom!"

Star of even! sunk the sun!

Lost for e'er the ruddy line; And the earth is veiled in dun,-- "Nay, in darkness, best I shine!"

O, my soul! art 'bove alarm, Quaffing thus the cup of gall-- Canst thou face the grave with calm?-- "Yes, the Christians smile at all."

THE EXILE'S DESIRE.

_("Si je pouvais voir, O patrie!")_

[Bk. III. x.x.xvii.]

Would I could see you, native land, Where lilacs and the almond stand Behind fields flowering to the strand-- But no!

Can I--oh, father, mother, crave Another final blessing save To rest my head upon your grave?-- But no!

In the one pit where ye repose, Would I could tell of France's woes, My brethren, who fell facing foes-- But no!

Would I had--oh, my dove of light, After whose flight came ceaseless night, One plume to clasp so purely white.-- But no!

Far from ye all--oh, dead, bewailed!

The fog-bell deafens me empaled Upon this rock--I feel enjailed-- Though free.

Like one who watches at the gate Lest some shall 'scape the doomed strait.

I watch! the tyrant, howe'er late, Must fall!