if' ' , 11 y ii'tt if i ii ~^ ^1 Cne t^untireti ^m^^ PIERRE-JEAN DE BERANGER, Cran^lattond WILLIAM YOUNG. LONDON: CHAPMAN AND HALL, 18G STRAND. 1847. PRTNTRD BV KOBSOK, t.KVKV, AND l-BASKI.VK, Great New Strwt, Fetti-r Lane. wrtur URL ^^/h^stBV) ENGLISHMEN, WHO NOTE THE CHARACTERISTICS OF OTHER COUNTRIES, MORAL, SOCIAL, AND POLITICAL, BUT DO NOT JUDGE THEM BY THE STANDARD OF THEIR OWN, IS DEDICATED THIS ATTEMPT TO MAKE BETTER KNOWN AMONGST US THE GREATEST LYRIC POET OF THE AGE. PREFACE. To appreciate the Songs of Beranger, the reader should be somewhat familiar with the history of France, during the twenty years which elapsed between 1812 and 1832. France, in that period, saw many events, and many changes ; she saw her darling Hero overthrown, and her enemies in possession of her capital. Again, during the Hun- dred Days, she saw the star of her Emperor's glory flicker forth with dying lustre : and yet again the legions of her foes were encamped, as victors, upon her soil. For fifteen years did she tolerate with indignation the imbecility of the twice-restored Bourbons. Then came the Revo- lution of July, and swept them ignominiously from their estate. Ample matter was there in all these mu^^alionct of fortune for the serious and satirical muse of Be- ranger. Subjects for his lighter and more pathetic effusions were around him, in French characters and French habits — through all their political phases so true to themselves — under any circumstances so different from our own. The Author of the following versions is well aware that, in placing them side by side with the French, he subjects himself to a severe criticism. Be it so — he does not weakly flatter himself that he has succeeded in the very difficult task of establishing an entente cordiale between BIranger and himself. He would simply give the reader an opportunity of turning from feeble copies to great originals : whilst he would stimulate abler trans- lators to lay aside for a while the Greek, the Latin, and the Italian lyrics, and try their hands on a contemporary and a neighbour. They might pos- sibly find that B^ranger unites the graces of Ana- creon, of Petrarch, and of Horace. B6rangerhas been compared to Burns. And with justice. There is in them both the same intense nationality, the same withering contempt for mere wealth and state, the same dear love of song, the same exquisite susceptibility to female charms, the same keen relish for convivial excitement. Both have been song- writers, and song-writers alone. Each, in his own land at least, has earned an im- perishable name. Burns is appreciated amongst us. Beranger deserves to be. If the publication of this little volume tend in the smallest degree to make him better known or more admired, its object will be accomplished. Of the Poet's life nothing need here be said. His own pen has faithfully depicted it. His infancy — his childhood — his youth — his poverty — his gaiety — his love of song and satire — his prosecu- tion — his imprisonment — his refusal of place or pension — his modest retirement at Passy — each has been sung by himself, as none but himself could sing. He who could read a hundred of B^ranger's songs, and still ask what manner of man he was, would be but little edified by any memoir of his life. London, 5th March 1847. CONTENTS. FAOK So BE IT ! 3 The Beooars 5 Charles VII 11 Much Love 13 The Kino of Yvetot 15 Friendship's Corner 19 The Gauls and Franks 21 The Commencement of the Voyage . .25 My Last Sonu, perhaps 27 The Education of Young Ladies . . .31 The Two Grenadiers 33 Vile Spring ! 37 The Good Frenchman 41 Old Clothes! Old Galloon! . . . .45 The Prisoner 49 The New Diogenes 63 A Treatise on Politics 69 The Farewell of Mary Stuakt .63 No MORE Politics 67 The Birds 69 It is Lisette no mobe 71 The White Cockade 76 x contents. The Broken Fiddle 79 Mx Vocation 83 Mr Republic 86 The Swallows 89 The Little Faiky 91 Were I a Little Bird 96 The Plebeian 97 Winter 101 Mt Little Corner 106 The Hunter and the Milkmaid .... 107 The Children of France 109 Verses on the Day of Waterloo . . . 113 The Fifty Crowns 115 The Old Flag 117 The Young Muse 121 The Death of King Christophe . . . 123 KOSETTE 127 The Two Cousins 131 The Storm 136 Farewell to the Country 139 The Carrier Pigeon 143 The Sylfhide 146 The Tailor and the Fairy 149 Friendship 163 My Little Boat 166 Farewell to Friends 169 The Invalid 161 The Jack 166 The Seal 167 The Poet-Laureate 171 CONTENTS. XI rto* The Birthday 175 The Ihaqinart Votagk 177 Lafayette in America 179 The Negroes and the Puppet-show . . . 183 The Good Old Dame 186 The National Guard 187 The Goddess 191 The Fourteenth of July 195 Louis XI 199 The Prisoner's Fireside 206 Love's Flight 207 The Old Corporai 209 Nature 213 Romances 217 My Contemporary 219 The Song of the Cossack 219 Fifty Years 221 The Refusal 225 Verses 227 How Fair is She! 229 Verses to my God-daughter .... 231 The Restoration of Song 233 Lines for the Young 239 The Old Vagabond 239 Verses on a Collection of Manuscript Songs . 243 Let us haste ! 243 The Bohemians 247 Advice to the Belgians 261 The People's Reminiscences .... 256 Poniatowski 259 Xll CONTENTS. PACK The Alchtmist 263 The Pook Woman 267 Verses to Inhabitants of the Mauritius . . 271 The Garret 273 Lines written in an Album 275 More Loves 277 The Smugglers 279 The Proverb 285 The Tombs of July 287 Verses 293 My Tomb 295 GooD-NiGiiT 297 The Wandering Jew 299 My Old Coat 305 To Madlle. » * * *, with my Last Songs . . 307 Recollections of Childhood .... 307 Passy 311 Farewell, Songs! 313 SONGS OF BERANGER. CHANSONS. AINSI SOIT-IL! 1812. Je suis devin, mes chers amis ; L'avenir qui nous est promis Se d^couvre a mon art subtil. Ainsi soit-il ! Plus de poete adulateur ; Le puissant craindra le flatteur ; Nul courtisan ne sera vil. Ainsi soit-il ! Plus d'usuriers, plus de joueurs, De petits banquiers grands seigneurs ; Et pas un commis incivil. Ainsi soit-il ! L'amiti^, charme de nos jours, Ne sera plus un froid discours, Dont rinfortune rompt le fil. Ainsi soit-il! La fille, novice h quinze ans, A dix-huit avec ses amants N'exercera que son babil. Ainsi soit-il ! SONGS. so BE IT! 1812. In this song is delicately shadowed out that feeling of discontent against the government of Napoleon, which, notwithstanding the brilliance of his military exploits, was already gaining ground in France. I'm gifted with prophetic eye. Dear friends, and by mine art descry What 's promised to us by and by. So be it ! Poets no more shall puifs indite ; The great shall fear the flatterer's sight ; No courtier swear that black is white. So be it! Gamblers and usurers out of date; No petty bankers lords so great ; Then clerks their rudeness shall abate. So be it ! Friendship her charm shall o'er us shed, No more that formal thing and dead, Of which misfortune snaps the thread. So be it! The girl, a novice at fifteen. In three years more with lovers seen, Shall nothing worse than gossip mean. So be it ! LES GUEUX. Femme fuira les vains atours, Et son mari pendant huit jours Pourra s'absenter sans peril. Ainsi soit-il ! L'on montrera dans chaque dcrit Plus de genie et moins d'esprit, Laissant tout jargon pue'ril. Ainsi soit-il! L'auteur aura plus de fierte', L'acteur moins de fatuite' ; Le critique sera civil. Ainsi soit-il ! On rira des erreurs des grands; On chansonnera leurs agents, Sans voir arriver I'alguazil. Ainsi soit-il ! En France enfin renait le gout ; La justice regne partout; Et la ve'ritd sort d'exil. Ainsi soit-il ! Or, mes amis, b^nissons Dieu, Qui met chaque chose en son lieu ; Celles-ci sont pour Pan trois mil. Ainsi soit-il ! LES GUEUX. 1812. Les gueux, les gueux, Sont les gens heureux ; lis s'aiment entre cux. Vivcnt les gueux! THE BLGGAKS. Then Woman shall avoid display In dress ; then, too, a husband may In safety be a week away. So be it ! Writers shall show in all that 's writ. Of genius more, and less of wit ; Nor jargon puerile admit. So be it! Authors of more exalted mind. Actors less foppish shall we find ; And even the critic shall be kind. So be it ! If great men and their pimps do ill, We'll jest and rhyme upon them still. Nor visit fear of alguazil. So be it ! Now Taste in France renews her reign ; Justice o'er-rules the whole domain ; And exiled Truth returns again. So be it ! Then, friends, thank God, who all things here Arranges wisely — in the year Three thousand shall these things appear. So be it ! THE BEGGARS. 1812. The beggars, oh ! the beggars, oh ! They are a merry race : Long may they live — 'tis beggars give Good fellowship a place! b2 LES GUEUX. Des gueux chantons la louange. Que de gueux homnies de bien ! II faut qu'enfin I'esprit venge L'honnete homme qui n'a rieii. Les gueux, les gueux, Sont les gens heureux ; lis s'aiment entre eux. Vivent les gueux! Qui, le bonheur est facile Au sein de la pauvrete: J'en atteste I'Evangile, J 'en atteste ma gaitd. Les gueux, les gueux, Sont les gens heureux ; lis s'aiment entre eux. Vivent les gueux ! Au Pamasse la misere Long-temps a re'gne, dit-on. Quels biens poss^dait Ilomere ? Une besace, un baton. Les gueux, les gueux, Sont les gens heureux ; lis s'aiment entre eux. Vivent les gueux ! Vous, qu'afflige la ddtresse, Croyez que plus d'un he'ros, Dans le Soulier qui le blesse, Pent rcgretter ses sabots. Les gueux, les gueux, Sont les gens heureux ; lis s'aiment entre eux. Vivent les gueux ! THE BEGGARS. / ■ Come, let us sing the beggars' praise ; what worth j Hath many a beggar shown ! \ Wit must avenge the honest sons of earth i Who nothing own. i The beggars, oh ! the beggars, oh ! They are a merry race: Long may they live — 'tis beggars give ; Good fellowship a place ! i Yes, in the lap of poverty one may i With happiness be blest: ; The Gospel proves it ; and my spirits gay This truth attest. ; The beggars, oh ! the beggars, oh ! They are a merry race : .' Long may they live — 'tis beggare give J Good fellowship a place ! Parnassus' sons have long been doomed, they say, ■ The cup of want to quaff: .1 What worldly comforts fell in Homer's way? I A scrip, a staff. ' The beggars, oh ! the beggars, oh ! ; They are a merry race: ; Long may they live — 'tis beggars give Good fellowship a place! 1 Ye, whom distress afflicts, believe in this, J For oftentimes 'tis true : The hero, pinched in dandy boot, may miss ' His wooden shoe. i i The beggars, oh ! the beggare, oh ! j They are a merry race : \ Long may they live — 'tis beggars give 'i Good fellowship a place ! 1 LES GUEUX. Du faste qui vous dtonne L'exil punit plus d'un grand : Diogene, dans sa tonne, Brave en paix un conqudrant. Les gueux, les gueux, Sont les gens heureux ; lis s'aiment entre eux. Vivent les gueux ! D'un palais I'dclat vous frappe, Mais I'ennui vient y gdmir. On pent bien manger sans nappe : Sur la paille on pent dormir. Les gueux, les gueux, Sont les gens heureux ; lis s'aiment entre eux. Vivent les gueux ! Quel dieu se plait et s'agite Sur ce grabat qu'il fleurit ? C'est I'Amour, qui rend visite A la pauvretd qui rit. Les gueux, les gueux, Sont les gens heureux ; lis s'aiment entre eux. Vivent les gueux ! L'Amitid que Ton regrette N'a point quitte nos climats ; Elle trinque a la guinguette, Assise entre deux soldats. Les gueux, les gueux, Sont les gens heureux ; lis s'aiment entre eux. Vivent les gueux ! THE BEGGARS. Oft, whilst they dazzle you, their pomp and pride The great to exile bring : Safe in his tub, Diogenes could bide A conquering king. The beggars, oh ! the beggars, oh ! They are a merry race : Long may they live — 'tis beggars give Good fellowship a place ! The splendour of a palace strikes your eye ; Therein will ennui groan: One may dine well mthout a cloth ; and lie On straw alone ! The beggars, oh ! the beggars, oh ! They are a merry race : Long may they live — 'tis beggars give Good fellowship a place ! What god, well-pleased, upon this truckle-bed Strews flowers, in amorous play ? 'Tis Love, who visits Poverty's low shed. So she be gay. The beggars, oh ! the beggars, oh ! They are a merry race : Long may they live — 'tis beggars give Good fellowship a place ! Friendship, so much regretted, from our scene Hath not just yet retreated ; She 's at the fair, hob-nobbing there, between Two soldiers seated. The beggars, oh ! the beggars, oh ! They are a merry race : Long may they live — 'tis beggars give Good fellowship a place ! 10 CHARLES SEPT. Je vais combattre, Agnes I'ordonne : Adieu, repos ; plaisirs, adieu ! J'aurai, pour venger ma couronne, Des heros, I'amour, et mon Dieu. Anglais, que le nom de ma belle Dans vos rangs porte la terreui'. J'oubliais I'honneur aupres d'elle, Agnes me rend tout a I'honneur. Dans les jeux d'une cour oisive, Fran9ais et roi, loin des dangers, Je laissais la France captive En pToie au fer des dtrangers. Un mot, un seul mot de ma belle A convert mon front de rongeur. J'oubliais I'honneur aupres d'elle, Agnes me rend tout a I'honneur. S'il faut mon sang pour la victoire, Agnes, tout mon sang coulera. Mais non ; pour I'amour et la gloire, Victorieux, Charles vivra. Je dois vaincre ; j'ai de ma belle Et les chiffres et la couleur. J'oubliais I'honneur aupres d'elle, Agnes me rend tout a I'honneur. Dunois, la Tr^mouille, Saintrailles, O Fran9ais, quel jour enchants, Quand des lauriers de vingt batailles Je couronnerai la beautd ! Frauyais, nous devrons a ma belle, Moi la gloire, et vous le bonheur. J'oubliais I'honneur aupres d'elle, Agnes me rend tout a i'honneur. 11 CHARLES VII. Agnes ordains — I seek my foes — Pleasures, adieu ! adieu, repose ! My God, my love, my hero-band. Shall vengeance for my crown demand : And when my fair one's name ye hear. Soldiers of England, quake with fear ! I at her side from honour fell astray ; Agnes to honour points again the way. From danger far, in idle sport. Frenchman and king, amidst my court, I heeded not that France, a prey To foreign chains, in bondage lay. One word, but one, my fair one speaks, The blush of shame is on my cheeks. I at her side from honour fell astray ; Agnes to honour points again the way. Agnes ! all, all my blood shall flow, If that can victory bestow. But no — victorious, Charles shall live ; Glory and love good omen give. Yes, I must conquer, fair one mine ; My colours and device are thine ! I at her side from honour fell astray ; Agnes to honour points again the way. Dunois ! Saintrailles ! La Tr^mouille ! Frenchmen ! how glad that day will be. When I shall bid my beauty don In twenty fights the laurels won ! Yes, fame for me, and bliss for you — These to my fair one shall be due ! I at her side from honour fell astray ; Agnes to honour points again the way. 12 BEAUCOUP D'AMOUR. Malgre la voix de la sagesse, Je voudrais amasser de I'or : Soudain aux pieds de ma maitresse J'irais deposer mon tresor. Adele, a ton moindre caprice Je satisferais chaque jour. Non, non, je n'ai point d'avarice, Mais j'ai beaucoup, beaucoup d'amour. Pour immortaliser Adele, Si des chants m'^taient inspires, Mes vers, oii je ne peindrais qu'elle, A jamais seraient admire's. Puissent ainsi dans la m^moire Nos deux noms se giaver un jour! Je n'ai point I'amour de la gloire, Mais j'ai beaucoup, beaucoup d'amour. Que la Providence m'eleve Jusqu'au trone ^clatant des rois; Adele embellira ce reve: Je lui cederai tous mes droits. Pour etre plus sur de lui plaire, Je voudrais me voir une cour. D'ambition je n'en ai guere, Mais j'ai beaiicoup, beaucoup d'amonr. Mais quel vain d(5sir m'importune ? Adele comble tous mes voeux. L'eclat, le renom, la fortune, Moins que I'amour rendent heureux. A mon bonheur je puis done croire, Et du sort braver le retour ! Je n'ai ni bien, ni rang, ni gloire, Mais j'ai beaucoup, beaucoup d'amour. 13 MUCH LOVE. In spite of Wisdom's voice, I would have heaps of gold; And quickly at my mistress' feet My treasures should be told. Oh ! never, Adele, would I cease To satisfy thy least caprice : No, no — I have no avarice, But much, much love. To immortalize Adele, Were I with song inspired. My verse, that ever painted her. Should ever be admired. Ah ! would that our united name Might thus some future mention claim I In truth I have no thirst for fame, But much, much love. And if to regal state My destiny should lead, Adele shall beautify the dream ; All rights to her I'll cede. To please her, and for that alone, I'll hail the splendour of a throne: Ambition I have scarcely known. But much, much love. Yet why this vain desire ? Adele my joys can crown; Love can do more for happiness Than fortune, state, renown. Then may I in my bliss confide. Nor fear, whatever may betide ; Mine is nor fame, nor wealth, nor pride. But much, much love. 14 LE ROI D'YVETOT. Mai, 1813. In ^tait un roi d'Yvetot, Peu connu dans I'histoire ; Se levant tard, se couchant tot, Dormant fort bien sans gloire, Et couronn^ par Jeanneton D'un simple bonnet de coton, Dit-on. Oh ! oh ! oh ! oh ! ah ! ah ! ah ! ah ! Quel bon petit roi c'dtait Ik ! La, la. II faisait ses quatre repas Dans son palais de chaume; Et sur un ane, pas a pas, Parcourait son royaume. Joyeux, simple, et croyant le bien. Pour toute garde il n'avait rien Qu'un chien. Oh ! oh ! oh ! oh ! ah ! ah ! ah ! ah ! Quel bon petit roi cMtait Ik ! La, la. II n'avait de gout on^reux Qu'une soif un peu vlve ; Mais, en rendant son peuple heiireux, II faut bien qu'un roi vive, Lui-meme, a tal)le et sans suppot, Sur chaqiie muid levait un pot D'impot. Oh ! oh ! oh ! oh ! ah ! ah ! ah ! ah ! Quel bon petit roi c'dtait Ik ! La, la. 15 THE KING OF YVETOT. May, 1813. The lords of the seigniory of Yvetot, in Normandy, claimed and exercised, in the olden time, some such fantastic privileges as are here alluded to. The song, however, was intended as a satire on the Emperor Napoleon. There was a king of Yvetot once. But little known in story; To bed betimes, and rising late, Sound sleeper without glory : And with a plain cotton night-cap, instead Of a crown, did Jenny adorn his head, 'Tis said. Rat tat, rat tat, rat tat, rat tat. Oh, what a good little king was that ! Rat tat. In his snug palace thatched with straw He ate four meals a-day ; And on a donkey, through his realm. Took leisurely his way. Joyous and simple, with nought to appal. Save his dog, he had not a guard at all. In call. Rat tat, rat tat, rat tat, rat tat, Oh, what a good little king was that! Rat tat. One single onerous taste he had, A somewhat lively thirst; But the king, who heeds his subjects' good. Must heed his own the first. He for the table a tax did allot; And himself, direct, from each hogshead got One pot. Rat tat, rat tat, rat tat, rat tat. Oh, what a good little king was that ! Rat tat. 16 LE ROI d'yVETOT. Aux filles de bonnes mtiisons Comme il avait su plaire, Ses sujets avaient cent raisons De le nommer leur pere : D'ailleurs il ne levait de ban, Que pour tirer quatre fois Pan Au blanc. Oh ! oh ! oh ! oh ! ah ! ah ! ah ! ah ! Quel bon petit roi c'etait la ! La, la. II n'agrandit point ses etats, Fut un voisin commode ; Et, modele des potentats, Prit le plaisir pour code. Ce n'est que lorsqu'il expira Que le peuple qui I'enterra Pleura. Oh ! oh ! oh ! oh ! ah ! ah ! ah ! ah ! Quel bon petit roi c'e'tait la ! La, la. On conserve encore le portrait De ce digne et bon prince; C'est Fenseigne d'un cabaret Fameux dans la province. Les jours de fete, bien souvent, La foule sMcrie en buvant Devant: Oh ! oh ! oh ! oh ! ah ! ah ! ah ! ah ! Quel bon petit roi cMtait la ! La, la. THE KING OF YVETOT. 17 Since maidens of good family With love he did inspire. His subjects had a hundred-fold Good cause to call him sire. 'Twas but four times a-year the roll was beat ; When at a target his troops to compete Would meet. Rat tat, rat tat, rat tat, rat tat, Oh, what a good little king was that ! Rat tat. He sought not to enlarge his states; To neighbours kindness showed ; And, model for all potentates. Took pleasure for his code. Thus had the people shed never a tear. Till at his death they in sorrow drew near His bier. Rat tat, rat tat, rat tat, rat tat. Oh, what a good little king was that ! Rat tat. They still of this right worthy prince With pride the portrait own ; Tis the sign of a famous drinking house. Through all the province known. And often a fete-day the crowd doth bring To tipple beneath the sign of the king, And sing. Rat tat, rat tat, rat tat, rat tat. Oh, what a good little king was that ! Rat tat. 18 LE COIN DE L'AMITIE : COUPLETS CHANTES PAR UNE DEMOISELLE A UNE JtUNE MARIEE, SON AMIE. L'Amour, I'Hymen, I'lnteret, la Folic, Aux quatre coins se disputcnt nos jours. L'Amitid vient completer la partic; Mais qu'on lui fait de mauvais tours ! Lorsqu'aux plaisirs I'ame se livre entiere, Notre raison ne brillc qu'sl moitie, Et la Folic attaquc la premiere Lc coin de PAniitid. Puis vient TAmour, joucur malin et traitre, Qiii de tromper ^prouve le besoin. En tricherie on le dit passd maitrc; Pauvre Amitie, gare a ton coin ! Ce dieu jaloux, des qu'il voit qu'on I'adore, A tout soumettre aspire sans pitie. Vous c^dez tout; il veut avoir encore Le coin de I'Amiti^. L'Hymen arrive : oh ! combien on le fete ! L 'Amitie seule apprete ses atours. Mais dans les soins qu'il vient nous mettre en tcte II nous renferme pour toujours. Ce dieu, chez lui calculant a toute heure, Y laisse enfin I'lnteret prendre pied, Et trop souvent lui donne pour demeure Le coin de I'Amitid Aupres de toi nous ne craignons, ma cliere, Ni I'lnteret, ni les folles erreurs; Mais aujourd'hui que I'Hymen et son frere Inspirent de crainte a nos coeurs ! Dans plus d'un coin, ou de fleurs ils se j)areut, Pour ton bonheur qu'ils regnent de moitie'; Mais que jamais, jamais ils ne s'emparent Du coin de I'Amitie. 19 FRIENDSHIP'S CORNER: VERSES SUNG BY A YOUNG LADY TO HER NEWLY-M AKRIED FRIEND. Love, and Hymen, and Folly, and Interest, met At the game of four corners, contend for our days : Friendship comes ^-propos, just to make up the set; But how many sly tricks on her each of them plays! When of pleasures alone the soul follows the track. Then our reason one half of its brilliance will lack; And then Folly is first in the field to attack Friendship's comer. Then comes Love, who will falsely and spitefiilly jilay ; For, in truth, of deceiving he seems to have need. And in cheating is nought but a master, they say : Ah! poor Friendship, beware! of thy comer take heed! Jealous god, when he sees he has kindled a flame. Without pity to subjugate all is his aim : You may yield to him all; but no less will he claim Friendship's comer. Hymen comes: to how joyous a fete is he led ! None but Friendship the robes for his service prepares : Whilst to trifles, that he himself puts in one's head. He for ever would cruelly limit our cares. To the good of his household this god aye awake. There, at length, a firm footing lets Interest make; And, in fact, but too often invites him to take Friendship's comer. In thy case, dearest friend, we all fears cast away, Th.at the errors of Folly or Interest bring : But since Hymen is leagued with his brother to-day. Round our hearts they have caused some forebodings to cling. Ah ! in more than one comer, where garlands they don. May their sway for thy happiness jointly go on; But they never, oh ! never, must trespass upon Friendship's comer. 20 LES GAULOIS ET LES FRANCS. Janvier, 1814. Gai ! gai ! serrons nos rangs, Espe'rance De la France; Gai ! gai ! serrons nos rangs ; En avant, Gaulois et Francs ! D'Attila suivant la voix, Le barbare, Qu'elle egare, Vient une seconde fois P^rir dans les champs gaulois. Gai ! gai ! serrons nos rangs, Esperance De la France ; Gai ! gai ! serrons nos rangs ; En avant, Gaulois et Francs ! Renonfant a ses marais, Le Cosaque, Qui bivouaque, Croit, sur la foi des Anglais, Se loger dans nos palais. Gai ! gai ! serrons nos rangs, Espdrance De la France ; Gai ! gai ! serrons nos rangs; En avant, Gaulois et Francs ! Le Russe, toujours tremblant Sous la neige Qui I'assiege, Las de pain noir et de gland, Veut manger notre pain blanc. 21 THE GAULS AND FRANKS. Jascary, 1814. At the dp.te of this noble invocation the armies of the Allied Sovereigns were rapidly advancing on Paris. Gailv, gaily, close our ranks ! On, advance, Hope of France ! Gaily, gaily, close our ranks ! Forward, forward, Gauls and Franks I Lured on by the treacherous call Of Attila, again Comes the barbarian train. Doomed a second time to fall. Vanquished on the fields of Gaul. Gaily, gaily, close our ranks ! On, advance, Hope of France ! Gaily, gaily, close our ranks ! Forward, forward, Gauls and Franks ! Leaving his morass behind, Mark how the rude Cossack, In place of bivouac. Trusts, on English faith, to find Ease, within our halls reclined. Gaily, gaily, close our ranks! On, advance, Hope of France! Gaily, gaily, close our ranks ! Forward, forward, Gauls and Franks! Shivering aye with cold and dread. The Russ, in snowy waste Pent up, no more would ta-ste Acoru.s and his own black bread. Craving ours, so white, instead. 22 LES GAULOIS ET LES FRANCS. Gai ! gai ! serrons nos rangs, Esp^rance De la France ; Gai ! gai ! serrons nos rangs; En avant, Gaulois et Francs ! Ces vins, que nous amassons Pour les boire A la victoire, Seraient bus par des Saxons ! Plus de vin, plus de chansons ! Gai ! gai ! serrons nos rangs Esp France De la France ; Gai ! gai ! serrons nos rangs; En avant, Gaulois et Francs ! Pour des Calmoucks durs et laids Nos filles Sont trop gentilles, Nos femmes ont trop d'attraits. Ah ! que leurs fils soient Fran9ai8 ! Gai ! gai ! seiTons nos rangs, Esp^rance De la France ; Gai ! gai ! serrons nos rangs ; En avant, Gaulois et Francs ! Quoi ! ces monumens ch^ris, Histoire De notre gloire, S'Jcrouleraient en debris ! Quoi ! les Prussiens a Paris ! Gai ! gai ! serrons nos rangs, Esperance De la France ; Gai ! gai ! serrons nos rangs ; En avant, Gaulois et Francs ! THE GAULS AND FRANKS, 23 Gaily, gaily, close our ranks ! On, advance, Hope of France ! Gp-ily, gaily, close our ranks ! Forward, forward, Gauls and Franks ! Of our wines the luscious store. Laid up for us to toast The victories we boast. Shall we see the Saxons pour? Shall we sing and quaff no more? Gaily, gaily, close our ranks ! On, advance, Hope of France! Graily, gaily, close our ranks ! Forward, forward, Gauls and Franks ! For foul Calmucks' rough embrace Our daughters are too fair; Not they the charms should share Of our wives, supreme in grace. Ah ! be their sons French in race ! Gaily, gaily, close our ranks ! On, advance, Hope of France ! Gaily, gaily, close our ranks ! Forward, forward, Gauls and Franks ! What ! these monuments so dear. Trophies that now so well Of all our glory tell. These in ruins disappear! What ! in Paris ! Prussians here ! Gaily, gaily, close our ranks ! On, advance, Hope of France ! Gaily, gaily, close our ranks! Forward, forward, Gauls and Franks! 24 LE COMMENCEMENT DU VOYAGE. Nobles Francs et bons Gaulois, La paix, si chere A la terre, Dans pen viendra sous vos toits, Vous payer de tant d'exploits. Gai ! gai ! serrons nos rangs, Esp^rance De la France ; Gai ! gai ! serrons nos rangs ; En avant, Gaulois et Francs ! LE COMMENCEMENT DU VOYAGE: CHANSON CHANTEE SUR LE BERCEAU d'uN ENFANT NOUVEAU-NE. VoYEZ, amis, cette barque legere, Qui de la vie essaie encor les flots: Elle contient gentille passagere; Ah ! soyons-en les premiers matelots. D^ja les eaux I'enlevent au rivage, Que doucement elle ftiit pour toujours. Nous, qui voyons commencer le voyage. Par nos chansons ^gayons-en le cours. D^ja le Sort a souffle dans les voiles; Ddja I'Espoir prtSpare les agres, Et nous promet, a I'eclat des dtoiles, Une mer calme, et des vents doux et frais. Fuyez, fuyez, oiseaux d'un noir presage: Cette nacelle appartient aux Amours. Nous, qui voyons commencer le voyage, Par nos chansons dgayons-en le cours. THE COMMENCEMENT OF THE VOYAGE. 25 Noble Franks, and honest Gauls ! Peace, man's enduring friend, Soon shall to earth descend. And repay, within your walls, \ our high deeds with festivals ! Gaily, gaily, close our ranks! On, advance, Hope of France ! Gaily, gaily, close our ranks ! Forward, forward, Gauls and Franks ! THE COMMENCEMENT OP THE VOYAGE: SONG StrSG OVER THE CRADLE OP A NEWtY-BORN INFANT. See, see, my friends, this light and tiny bark. Upon the waves of life launched forth anew : Its fair and tender passenger remark; Be we the first to serve her as a crew. Even now the billows waft her from the shore; On may she float all gently evermore ! Let us, who see the voyage commencing here, With songs essay her onward course to cheer. Fate with her breath already fills the sail ; Whilst Hope, who deigned the tackles to prepare, Foretells, if aught may brightest stars avail, A tranquil sea, with breezes fresh and fair. Fly, fly far hence, birds of ill-omened note ! The Loves are owners of this little boat. Let us, who see the voyage commencing here. With songs essay her onward course to cheer. 26 MA DERNIERE CHANSON, PEUT-ETRE. Au mat propice attachant leurs guirlandes, Oui, les Amours prennent part au travail. Aux chastes Soeurs on a fait des ofFrandes, Et I'Amitie se place au gouvemail. Bacchus lui-meme anime I'equipage, Qui des Plaisirs invoque le secours. Nous, qui voyons commencer le voyage, Par nos chansons egayons-en le cours. Qui vient encor saluer la nacelle? C'est le Malheur benissant la Vertu, Et demandant que du bien fait par elle Sur cet enfant le prix soit r^pandu. A tant de vceux, dont retentit la plage, Surs que jamais les dieux ne seront sourds, Nous, qui voyons commencer le voyage. Par nos chansons egayons-en le cours. MA DERNIERE CHANSON, PEUT-ETRE. Fin de Janvier, 1814. Je n'eus jamais d'indiff^rence Pour la gloire du nom franjais. L'dtranger envahit la France, Et je maudis tons ses succes. Mais, bien que la douleur honore. Que servira d'avoir gdmi ? Puisqu'ici nous rions encore, Autant de pris sur I'ennemi ! Quand plus d'un brave aujourd'hui tremble, Moi, poltron, je ne tremble pas. Heureux que Bacchus nous rassemble Pour trinquer h ce gai repas ! MY LAST SONG, PERHAPS. Yes, reatly Cupids ply the sailors' trade; The mast propitious, lo ! their garlands grace. To the chaste Sisters offerings have been made. And Friendship at the helm assumes her place. Bacchus himself with glee inspires the crew. Whilst they for aid the Pleasures gaily sue. Let us, who see the voyage commencing here. With songs essay her onward course to cheer. But who, again, the tiny barque salutes? Misfortune comes, and prays with grateful heart, That, if the good by Virtue done bear fruits. She to this infant would those fruits impart. To vows, that thus along the strand resound. Sure that the gods can never deaf be found. Let us, who see the voyage commencing here. With songs essay her onward course to cheer. 27 MY LAST SONG, PERHAPS. Ens of Jamua&y, 1814. This 8ong must have been written in anticipation of the final success of the allied troops, and of their inevitable entry into Paris. For the glorj- of the name of France Never did I fail in reverence meet : Whilst the strangers through our land advance, Their successes with a curse I greet. But though grief may honourable be. To what end will serve our signs of woe ? If to-day we 're still for laughter free, That is so much taken from the foe ! Many a brave man trembles now with fear — I alone, a coward, tremble not ; Bacchus gathers us to tipple here. Gay the feast, and happy is my lot. MA DERNIERE CHANSON, PEUT-ETRE. Amis, c'est le dieu que j 'implore ; Par lui mon coeur est affermi. Buvons gaiment, buvons encore : Autant de pris sur Pennemi ! Mes cr^anciers sont des corsaires Contre moi toujours souleves. J'allais mettre ordre a mes affaires, Quand j'appris ce que vous savez. Gens que I'avarice d^vore. Pour votre or soudain j'ai frdmi. Pretez-m'en done, pretez encore : Autant de pris sur Pennemi ! Je possede jeune maitresse. Qui va courir bien des dangers. Au fond, je crois que la traitresse Desire un peu les strangers. Certains exces que Pon deplore Ne Pepouvantent qu'a demi. Mais cette nuit me reste encore : Autant de pris sur Pennemi ! Amis, s'il n'est plus d'esp^rance, Jurons, au risque du trepas, Que pour Pennemi de la France Nos voix ne rdsonneront pas. Mais il ne faut point qu'on ignore Qu'en chantant le cygne a fini. Toujours Franfais, chantons encore : Autant de pris sur Pennemi ! I MY LAST SONG, PERHAPS. 29 i 'I Bacchus is the god to whom / pray ; j] Friends, through him my heart doth bolder grow. | Let us drink ; still drink we and be gay ; Th's is so much taken from the foe ! How these creditors, who never spare. Corsair-like, have all upon me turned ! i My accounts I was about to square. When the news, that you have heard, I learned. ] Tribe, to greedy avarice the prey, ! For your gold I felt a sudden throe : Lend me still — oh ! something lend to-day ; 1 'T would be so much taken from the foe ! Mine I call a mistress young and &ir ; j They on her much danger will entail : « Yet the traitress, I could almost swear. Will at heart the coming strangers hail. ■' Certain outrages, that we regret, She 's but half afraid to undergo : \ Still this night, at least, is left me yet ; j 'T will be so much taken from the foe ! \ Friends, if Hope hath now no sunny glance. Let us swear, though death should be incurred. That to greet the enemies of France . Our glad voices never shall be heard. But I would not ye should e'er forget j How the swan, in singing, laid him low. 1 Frenchmen to the last, sing, sing we yet : i Here is so much taken from the foe ! ' d2 30 L'EDUCATION DES DEMOISELLES. Le bel instituteur de filles Que ce Monsieur de Fdndlon ! II parle de messe et d'aiguilles: Maman, c'est un sot tout du long. Concerts, bals, et pieces nouvelles Nous instruisent mieux que cela. Tra la la la, les demoiselles, Tra la la la, se forment la. Qu'a broder une autre s'applique ; Maman, je veux au piano, Avec mon maitre de musique, D'Armide chanter le duo. Je crois sentir les ^tincelles De I'amour dont R^naud brula. Tra la la la, les demoiselles, Tra la la la, se forment la. Qu'une autre derive la d^pense ; Maman, pendant une heure ou deux, Je veux que mon maitre de danse M'enseigne un pas voluptueux. Ma robe rend mes pieds rebelles ; Un peu plus haut relevons-la. Tra la la la, les demoiselles, Tra la la la, se forment la. • Q,ue sur ma soeur une autre veille ; Maman, je veux mettre au salon, Deja je dessine a merveille Les contours de cet Apollon. Grand Dieu, que ses formes sont belles ! Surtout les beaux nus que voila ! Tra la la la, les demoiselles, Tra la la la, se forment la. 31 THE EDUCATION OF YOUNG LADIES. What ! this Monsieur de F^ndon The girls pretend to school ! He prates of mass and needle-work ; Mamma, he 's but a fool. Balls, concerts, and the piece just out, Can teach us better far, no doubt : Tra la la la, tra la la la. Thus are young ladies taught. Mamma ! Let others mind their work ; I'll play. Mamma, the sweet duet, That for my master's voice and mine Is from Armida set. If Renaud felt love's burning flame, I feel some shootings of the same : Tra la la la, tra la la la. Thus are young ladies taught, Mamma ! Let others keep accounts ; I'll dance. Mamma, an hour or two ; And from my master learn a step Voluptuous and new. At this long skirt my feet rebel ; To loop it up a bit were well. Tra la la la, tra la la la. Thus are young ladies taught, Mamma ! Let others o'er my sister watch ; Mamma, I'd rather trace — I've wondrous talent — at the Louvre The Apollo's matchless grace : Throughout his figure what a charm ! 'Tis naked, true — but that 's no harm I Tra la la la, tra la la la. Thus are young ladies taught, Mamma ! 32 LES DEUX GRENADIERS. Maman, il faut qu'on me marie, La coutume ainsi I'exigeant. Je t'avourai, ma chere amie, Que meme le cas est urgent. Le monde sait de mes nouvelles, Mais on y rit de tout cela. Tra la la la, les demoiselles, Tra la la la, se forment la. LES DEUX GRENADIERS. AvBiL, 1814. PREMIEK GRENADIER. A NOTRE poste on nous oublie. Richard, minuit sonne au chateau. DEUXIEME GRENADIER. Nous aliens revoir I'ltalie. Demain, adieu Fontainebleau ! PREMIER GRENADIER. Par le ciel ! que j'en remercie, L'ile d'Elbe est un beau climat. DEUXIEME GRENADIER. FAt-elle au fond de la Russie, Vieux grenadiers, suivons un vieux soldat. ENSEMBLE. Vieux grenadiers, suivons un vieux soldat, Suivons un vieux soldat. THE TWO GRENADIERS. Mamma, I must be married soon. Even fashion says no less ; Besides, there is an urgent cause, - I must. Mamma, confess. The world my situation sees. But laughs at all such things as these. Tra la la la, tra la la la. Thus are young ladies taught, IMamma ! THE TWO GRENADIERS. Apkil, 1814. The reader will remember that the first abdication of Napoleon took place at Fontainebleau, the deed bearing date 5th April, 1814. In calling Glory the godmother, and the Emperor the godfather of liis Marshals, the poet alludes to the fact, that nearly all of them bore in their titles the names of the re- spective battle-fields whereon they had distinguished them- selves. FIBST GREKADIEB. Our post has been forgotten in the rounds; Richard, 'tis midnight at the palace sounds. SECOND GRENADIER. Once more we turn to Italy our view; For, with to-morrow, Fontainebleau, adieu ! FIRST GRENADIER. By Heaven I swear, and thank it too the while. That a fair climate blesses Elba's isle. SECOND GRENADIER. Were it far distant, deep in Russia's snow. Let us, old grenadiers, with an old soldier go ! TOGETHER. Let us, old grenadiers, with an old soldier go! With an old soldier go ! 34 LES DEUX GRENADIERS. DEUXIEME GRENADIER. Qu'elles sont promptes les defaites! Oil sont Moscou, Wilna, Berlin? Je crois voir sur nos baionnettes Luire encor les feux du Kremlin. Et, livre' par quelques perfides, Paris coute a peine un combat ! Nos gibemes nMtaient pas vides. Vieux grenadiers, suivons un vieux soldat. PREMIER GRENADIER. Chacun nous r^pete: II abdique. Quel est-ce mot? Apprends-le-moi. ' Re'tablit-on la r^publique? DEUXIEME GRENADIER. Non, puisqu'on nous ramene un roi. L'empereur aurait cent couronnes, Je concevrais qu'il les c^dat; Sa main en faisait des aumones. Vieux grenadiers, suivons un vieux soldat. PREMIER GRENADIER. Une lumiere, a ces fenetres, Brille a peine dans le chateau. DEUXIEME GRENADIER. Les valets a nobles ancetres Ont fui, le nez dans leur manteau. Tons, d^galonnant leurs costumes, Vont au nouveau chef de I'^tat De I'aigle mort vendre les plumes. Vieux grenadiers, suivons un vieux soldat. PREMIER GRENADIER. Des mar^chaux, nos camarades, Desertent aussi gorges d'or. THE TWO GRENADIERS. 35 SECOND GRENADIER. How quick they came, the fights we could not win ! Where now are Moscow, Wilna, and Berlin ? Again the flames, that wrapped the Kremlin, seem Upon our serried baj-onets to gleam : And through some base perfidious traitors lost, Paris itself has scarce a combat cost ! Our cartouch-boxes were not empty — no ! Let us, old grenadiers, with an old soldier go ! FIRST GRENADIER. On every side, " He abdicates," we hear : What means that word ? I pray thee make it clear. Our old Republic seek they to restore.' SECOND GRENADIER. No ! for they bring us back a king once more. The Emperor's crowns a hundred-fold might shine ; I can conceive that he would all resign : His hand in charity did crowns bestow ! Let us, old grenadiers, with an old soldier go ! FIRST GRENADIER. The palace windows are but dull to-night; I see one faint and solitary light, SECOND GRENADIER. Yes ! for the valets, nobly bom and bred. Their noses hidden in their mantles, fled. All, stripping oft" the lace from their costumes. Haste to dispose of the dead eagle's plumes To the new Chief, whom soon the state will know. Let us, old grenadiers, with an old soldier go FIRST GREKADIER. The Marshals too, our comrades once of old. They have deserted, now they're gorged with gold. 36 MAUDIT PRINTEMPS ! BEUXIEME GRENADIER. Notre sang paya tons leurs grades; Heureux qu''il nous en reste encor ! Q,uoi ! la Gloire fut en personne Leur marraine un jour de combat; Et le parrain, on I'abandonne ! Vieux grenadiers, suivons un vieux soldat. PREMIER GRENADIER. Apres vingt-cinq ans de services J'allais deraander du repos. DEUXIEME GRENADIER. Moi, tout convert de cicatrices, Je voulais quitter les drapeaux. Mais, quand la liqueur est tarie, Briser le vase est d'un ingrat. Adieu femme, enfants, et patrie ! Vieux grenadiers, suivons un vieux soldat. ENSEMBLE. Vieux grenadiers, suivons un vieux soldat, Suivons un vieux soldat. MAUDIT PRINTEMPS ! Je la voyais de ma fenetre A la sienne tout cet hiver : Nous nous aimions sans nous connaitre; Nos baisers se croisaient dans I'air. Entre ces tilleuls sans feuillage. Nous regarder comblait nos jours. Aux arbres tu rends leur ombrage; Maudit printemps! reviendras-tu toujours? VILE SPRING ! 37 SECOND GRENADIER. All their distinctions 'twas our blood that bought : Joy, that our veins should still with blood be fraught ! What' their god-mother Glory's self became, And from the battle-field gave each his name; Yet their god-father thus aside they throw! Let us, old grenadiers, with an old soldier go ! FIRST GRENADIER. In service five-and-twenty years I've past, And meant my furlough to have begged at laat. SECOND GRENADIER. And I, all seamed with scars, felt some desire From our old colours also to retire : But after drinking all the liquor up, 'Tis base ingratitude to break the cup ! Farewell, wife, children, country ! be it so ! Let us, old grenadiers, with an old soldier go ! TOGETHER. Let us, old grenadiers, with an old soldier go ! With an old soldier go ! VILE SPRING ! I, FROM my casement, at her own Saw her, all through the wintry weather; Lovers, though each to each unknown. Our kisses crossed in air together. Whole days we passed in peeping through These lime-trees, then from foliage clear: But now their shade thou dost renew. Vile Spring! aye wilt thou re-appear? 38 MAUDIT PRINTEMPS ! II se perd dans leur voute obscure Get ange dclatant, qui la bas M'apparut, jetant la pature Aux oiseaux un jour de frimas: lis Tappelaient, et leur manege Devint le signal des amours. Non, rien d'aussi beau que la neige! Maudit printemps! reviendras-tu toujours? Sans toi je la verrais encore, Lorsqu'elle s'arrache au repos, Fraiche comme on nous peint I'Aurore Du Jour entr'ouvrant les rideaux. Le soir encor je pourrais diie : Mon etoile acheve son cours; EUe s'endort, sa lampe expire. Maudit printemps! reviendras-tu toujours? C'est I'hiver que mon cceur implore: Ah! je voudrais qu'on entendit Tinter sur la vitre sonore Le grdsil l^ger qui bondit. Que me fait tout ton vieil empire, Tes fleurs, tes zephyrs, tes longs jours? Je ne la verrai plus sourire. Maudit printemps! reviendras-tu toujours? VILE SPRING ! 39 Yes, in their gloomy shade receding, That dazzling angel now is lost, Who there the birds would oft be feeding, On days wlien all was clothed in frost. For her they chirped ; their tricks below Were signals that our love would cheer: Ah ! there is nought so fair as snow ! Vile Spring! aye wilt thou re-appear? Without thee, I might still adore her. When from repose she breaks away. Fresh as the painters paint Aurora Opening the curtains of the Day. Without thee, might I say at night, " My star hath finished its career; She sleeps; her lamp hath veiled its light." Vile Spring! aye wilt thou re-appear? My heart for Winter prays again: Ah ! would that in mine ear were sounding The tinkle on the window pane. That the light sleet makes in rebounding ! How can thine ancient sway to me. Flower, zephyr, lengthened day, be dear? No more 'tis mine her smile to see ! Vile Spring! aye wilt thou re-appear? 40 LE BON FRANQAIS. Mai, 18H. CHANSON chantjse: DEVANT DES AIDES-UE-CAMP D£ I,'£MP£REVR ALEXANDRE. J'aime qu'un Russe soit Russe, Et qu'un Anglais soit Anglais. Si Ton est Prussien en Prusse, En France soyons Franjais. Lorsqu'ici nos coeurs ^mus Comptent des Frangais de plus, Mes amis, mes amis, Soyons de notre pays ; Oui, soyons de notre pays. Charles-Quint portait envie A ce roi plein de valeur, Qui s'^criait k Pa vie : Tout est perdu, fors Vhonneur ! Consolons par ce mot-Ik Ceux que le nombre accabla. Mes amis, mes amis, Soyons de notre pays ; Oui, soyons de notre pays, Louis, dit-on, fut sensible Aux malheurs de ces guerriers, Dont I'hiver le plus terrible A seul fl^tri les lauriers. 41 THE GOOD FRENCHMAN. May, 1814. song sung before the aides-de-camp of the empekor alexander. In the first stanza of this song, allusion is made to the happy bon-mot of the Count d'Artois, on occasion of the restoration of Louis XVIII.: " II n'y a rien de change en France; il n'y a qu'un Franfais de plus." It was, moreover, reported at this time that Louis had obtained from the Emperor Alexander a promise, that he would send home to France the prisoners made in the disastrous campaign of Russia: and also, that he had remarked to Marshals Massena, Monier, Lefevre, Ney, &c., at St. Out-n, that he should lean upon them. The me- morable saying of Francis I., after the battle of Pavia, is mat- ter of history. The king, who in the fourth stanza is said to have saved France though confined by sickness to his palace, is Charles V. of France, sumamed the Wise. He regained, by bribery and negotiation, the greater part of the English acqui- sitions in France. I LIKE a Russian to be Russian ; The Englishman should English be ; And if in Prussia one is Prussian, Frenchmen in France be we ! Whilst here our hearts are gushing o'er, And can but count one Frenchman more. Friends, friends, oh ! faithful let us stand ; Yes, faithful to our native land ! To Charles the Fifth that monarch's fame, So brave, a pang of envy cost, Who at Pavia could exclaim. Save honour, all is lost! Let us these soothing words repeat To those, whom numbers did defeat. Friends, friends, oh ! faithful let us stand; Yes, faithful to our native land ! They tell us, Louis did deplore That fate our hapless warriors crost. Whose laurels withered but before Stem winter's sternest frost. e2 42 I,E BON FRAN9AIS. Pres des lis qu'ils Boutiendront, Ces lauriers reverdiront. Mes amis, mes amis, Soyons de notre pays ; Oui, soyons de notre pays. Enchaine par la soufFranee, Un roi fatal aux Anglais A jadis sauvd la France Sans sortir de son palais. On sait, quand il le faudra, Sur qui Louis s'appuira. Mes amis, mes amis, Soyons de notre pays ; Oui, soyons de notre pays. Redoutons I'anglomanie, Elle a ddja gate' tout. N'allons point en Germanic Chercher les regies du gout. N'empruntons a nos voisins Que leurs femmes et leurs vins. Mes amis, mes amis, Soyons de notre pays ; Oui, soyons de notre pays. Notre gloire est sans seconde ; Franfais, oil sont nos rivaux ? Nos plaisiis charment le moude. Eclair^ par nos travaux. Qu'll nous vienne un gai refrain, Et voila le monde en train ! Mes amis, mes amis, Soyons de notre pays ; Oui, soyons de notre pays. En servant notre patrie. Oil se fixent pour toujours Les plaisirs et rindustrie, Les beaux-art« ot les amours, THE GOOD FRENCHMAN. 43 Fresh verdure shall those laurels gain, Beside the lilies they'll sustain. Friends, friends, oh ! faithful let us stand ; Yes, faithful to our native land ! The fatal foe of England's power, A king on bed of suffering laid. Saved France of old in peril's hour. Yet in his palace stayed : We 're sure, if any cause be seen. That Louis knows on whom to lean. Friends, friends, oh ! faithful let us stand ; Yes, faithful to our native land ! The Anglo-mania let us dread ; All hath it spoiled for us ere now : To Germans let us not be led In rules of taste to bow; Nor borrow o'er our neighbours' lines Aught — save their women and their wines ! Friends, friends, oh ! faithful let us stand ; Yes, faithful to our native land ! Our glory 's at the loftiest height : Whom, Frenchmen, can we rivals call P Our labours give mankind their light ; Our pleasures charm them all. Let MA- but have a joyous strain. And, lo ! the world once more in train ! Friends, friends, oh ! faithful let us stand ; Yes, faithful to our native land ! Good service to our land 'twill be. Where fixed for ever, side by side. The Loves, the Pleasures, Industry, And the Fine Arts abide. 44 VIEUX HABITS ! VIEUX GALONS ! Aimons, Louis le permet, Tout ce qu'Henri-Quatre aimait. Mes amis, mes amis, Soyons de notre pays ; Oui, soyons de notre pays. VIEUX HABITS! VIEUX GALONS! REFLEXIONS MORALES ET POLITIQUES DUN MARCH AND b'habits de la CAFITALE. Premiere Resxauration, 1814. Tout marchands d'habits que nous sommes, Messieurs, nous observons les hommes ; Du bout du monde a I'autre bout, L'habit fait tout. Dans les changements qui surviennent, Les d^pouilles nous appartiennent : Toujours en grand nous calculons, Vieux habits ! vieux galons ! Parfois en lisant la gazette, Comme tant d'autres, je regrette Que tout Fran9ais n'ait pas gardd L'habit brodd : Mais, j 'en crois ceux qui s'y connaissent, Les anciens prdjugds renaissent. On va quitter les pantalons. Vieux habits ! vieux galons ! OLD CLOTHES ! OLD GALLOON ! 45 To love — for Louis hath approved — ^11 things that our Fourth Henry loved. Friends, friends, oh ! faithful let us stand ; Yes, faithful to our native land ! OLD CLOTHES ! OLD GALLOON ! MORAL AND POLITICAL REFLECTIONS OF A CLOTHEBMAN OF THE CAPITAL. First Restoratiok, 1814. Allusions in the fourth and fifth stanzas make it requisite to bear in mind, that green and gold was the Imperial livery, and blue that of the restored Bourbons. Though we be dealers in old clothes alone. On men, good sirs, our watchful eyes are thrown : Throughout the universe a certain tone Dress only can bestow. Amidst the changes that so ofl take place. The cast-off clothes belong to us : our race On broadest grounds their calculations base. Any old galloon ? old clo' ? Sometimes, in poring over the gazette, With many another, I must needs regret That the embroidered coats, which once we met, Frenchmen aside should throw. But by the knowing ones I have been told. That ancient prejudice resumes its hold ; Even pantaloons will soon be voted old. Any old galloon ? old clo' ? 46 VIEUX HABITS ! VIEUX GALONS .' Les modes et la politique Ont cent fois rempli ma boutique ; , Combien on doit a, leurs travaux D 'habits nouveaux ! Quand de nos deesses civiques On met en oubli les tuniques, Aux passants nous les rappelons. Vieux habits ! vieux galons ! Un temps fameux par cent batailles Mit du galon sur bien des tallies ; De galon meme ^taient converts Les habits verts. Mais sans le bonheur point de gloire ! Nous seuls, apres chaque victoire, Nous avions ce que nous voulons. Vieux habits ! vieux galons ! Nous trouvons aussi notre compte Avec tous les gens qui sans honte Savent, dans un retour subit, Changer d'habit. Les valets, troupe chamarr^e, Troquant aujourd'hui leur livr^e. Que d'habits bleus nous ^talons ! Vieux habits ! vieux galons ! Les dtfenseurs de nos grand-peres, Sortant de leurs nobles repaires, Reprennent enfin a leur tour L'habit de cour. Chez nous retrouvant leurs costumes, Avec talons rouges et plumes, lis vont r^gner dans les salons. Vieux habits ! vieux galons ! Sans nul dgard pour nos scrupules, Si la foule des incrddulcs Mit au nombre de ses larcins L'habit des saints. OLD CLOTHES ! OLD GALLOON ! 47 Fashion and politics have lent their aid, A hupdred times, to swell our stock in trade : What scores of dresses by new patterns made We to their labours owe ! When men forget the tunics, that of yore Our civic goddesses in triumph wore. We to the passers-by that garb restore. Any old galloon ? old clo' ? A hundred battles signalised the day That with galloon made many a figure gay ; On the green coats, too, then embroidered lay A thick galloon, you know. But without gain no glory can there be ! After each victory won, we, only we, All that we wished for realised did see. Any old galloon ? old clo' ? We find it also suits us well to deal With all that tribe, who, shame unused to feel. When some one suddenly comes back, their zeal In changing dresses show. Valets, bedecked with laces not a few. Barter to-day their liveries, old for new : Our coats hung out make grand display in blue. Any old galloon ? old clo' ? They who our grandfathers' defenders were. Now, issuing forth from many a noble lair. Find it at last their turn once more to wear Court-dresses — all the go. With us they find once more their old costumes ; And re-bedizened in red heels and plumes. Each o'er the drawing-room his sway resumes. Any old galloon ? old clo' ? If hordes of thieves, in unbelief arrayed. To our just scruples no regard have paid ; But robes of saints, with other things, have made Their Iiootv — be it so. 48 LF PRISONNIF.U. All nez de plus d'lm philosophe Je vais en revendre Tetoffe : De pidte nous redonlilons. Vieux habits ! vieux galons ! Long-temps vantes dans chaque ouvrage, Des grands, qu'aujourd'hui I'on outrage, Portent au fond de leurs manoirs Des habits noirs. Mais, grace a nous, vont reparaitre Ces manteaux qu'eux-memes peut-etre Trouvaient bien pesants et bien longs. Vieux habits ! vieux galons ! De m'enrichir j'ai I'assurance : L'on fetera toujours en France, En ville, au theatre, a la cour, L 'habit du jour. Gens vetus d'or et d'ecarlate. Pendant un mois chacun vous flatte ; Puis a vos portes nous allons. Vieux habits ! vieux galons ! LK PniSONNIER. Reine des flots, sur ta barque rapide Vogue en chantant, au bruit des longs echos. Les vents sont doux, I'onde est calme et limpide, Le ciel sourit : vogue, reine des flots. Ainsi chante, a travers les grilles, Un captif qui voit chaque jour Voguer la plus belle des fiUes Sur les flots qui baignent la tour. THE PRISONER. 49 I, under many a philosophic nose. The stuff tliat 's in them will for sale expose ; From pious trade a splendid profit flows ! Any old galloon ? old clo' ? Extolled in every work this long time past, The great, on whom to-day abuse is cast. Have kept some corner of their manors vast, In black suits crouching low : But, thanks to us, those mantles will abound. That they themselves, perchance, have sometimes found Too heavy far, and hung too near the ground. Any old galloon ? old clo' ? Thus since in theatre, at court, on town, France never fails with her applause to crown The latest mode, I may with truth set down. That wealthy I must grow. Ye ! who are decked in scarlet and in gold. One month by flattery shall ye be extolled ; Then by your doors our usual course we'll hold. Any old galloon ? old clo' ? THE PRISONER. Queen of the waves ! thy light bark speed along. And sing, whilst Echo lengthens out thy song. Clear is the stream and calm ; soft breezes blow ; Queen of the waves, Heaven smiles ; thy light bark swiftly row ! Thus through the bars a captive poured his lay. Who saw the fairest maiden, day by day. Speed lightly o'er the waves, that round his tower did play. 50 LE PRISONNIER. Reine des flots, sur ta barque rapide Vogue en chantant, au bruit des longs dchos. Les vents sont doux, Tonde est calme et limpide, Le ciel sourit : vogue, reine des flots. Moi, captif a la fleur de Page Dans ce vieux fort inhabite, J 'attends chaque jour ton passage Comme j 'attends la liberty. Reine des flots, sur ta barque rapide Vogue en chantant, au bruit des longs e'chos. Les vents sont doux, I'onde est calme et limpide, Le ciel sourit : vogue, reine des flots. L'eau te rdflechit grande et belle ; Ton sein forme un heureux contour. A qui ta voile obdt-elle ? Est-ce au Zephyr? est-ce a 1' Amour? Reine des flots, sur ta barque rapide Vogue en chantant, au bruit des longs dchos. Les vents sont doux, I'onde est calme et limpide, Le ciel sourit : vogue, reine des flots. De quel espoir mon coeur s'enivre ! Tu veux m'arracher de ce fort. Libre par toi, je vais te suivre ; Le bonheur est sur I'autre bord, Reine des flots, sur ta barque rapide Vogue en chantant, au bruit des longs ^chos. Les vents sont doux. Pair est calme et limpide, Le ciel sourit : vogue, reine des flots. Tu t'arretes, et ma soufFrance Semble mouiller tes yeux de pleurs. Hdlas ! semblable a I'Esperance, Tu passes, tu fuis, et je meurs. THE PRISONER. 51 Q,ueen of the waves ! thy light bark speed along, And sing, whilst Echo lengthens out thy song. Clear is the stream and calm ; soft breezes blow ; Queen of the waves, Heaven smiles; thy light bark swiftly row ! I, in life's prime doomed to the captive's fate. In this old fortress lone and desolate. Await each day thy course as freedom I await. Queen of the waves ! thy light bark speed along. And sing, whilst Echo lengthens out thy song. Clear is the stream and calm ; soft breezes blow ; Queen of the waves. Heaven smiles ; thy light bark swiftly row ! The water gives thine image, tall and fair ; Thy bust is seen in happy outline there. Whom doth thy sail obey ? is't Love's or Zephyr's care? Queen of the waves ! thy light bark speed along. And sing, whilst Echo lengthens out thy song. Clear is the stream and calm ; soft breezes blow ; Queen of the waves. Heaven smiles ; thy light bark swiftly row ! What hope intoxicates my heart ! set free From this strong-hold, soon shall I follow thee, My liberator ! bliss on the other shore must be. Queen of the waves ! thy light bark speed along. And sing, whilst Echo lengthens out thy song. Clear is the stream and calm ; soft breezes blow ; Queen of the waves. Heaven smiles ; thy light bark swiftly row ! Thy course is stayed ; methinks thy drooping eye Melts at my woes. Alas ! thou passest by. Like evanescent hope — thou'rt gone, and I must die ! 52 LL NOUVEAU DIOGENE. Reine des flots, sur ta barque rapide Vogue en chantant, au bruit des longs echos. Les vents sont doux, Pair est calme et limpide, Le del sourit : vogue, reine des flots. L'illusion m'est done ravie ! Mais non : vers moi tu tends la main. Astre de qui depend ma vie, Pour moi tu brilleras demain. Reine des flots, sur ta barque rapide Vogue en chantant, au bruit des longs echos. Les vents sont doux. Pair est calme et limpide, Le ciel sourit : vogue, reine des flots. LE NOUVEAU DIOGENE. Cent Jours, Avril, 1815. DiOGENE, Sous ton manteau, Libre et content, je ris et bois sans gene. Diogene, Sous ton manteau, Libre et content, je roule mon tonneau. Dans I'eau, dit-on, tu puisas ta rudesse; Je n'en bois pas, et, censeur plus joyeux. En moins d'un mois, pour loger ma sagesse, .T'ai mis a sec un tonneau de vin vieux. THE NEW DIOGENES. 53 Queen of the waves ! thy light bark speed along, And sing, whilst Echo lengthens out thy song. Clear is the stream and calm ; soft breezes blow ; Queen of the waves. Heaven smiles ; thy light bark swiftly row ! Snatched from me, then, is that enchanting dream ! But no — thy hands outstretched in pity seem. Star of my life, for me, to-morrow thou shalt beam ! Queen of the waves ! thy light bark speed along, And sing, whilst Echo lengthens out thy song. Clear is the stream and calm ; soft breezes blow ; Queen of the waves. Heaven smiles ; thy light bark swiftly row ! THE NEW DIOGENES. TU£ HUNDRKD DATS, ApRIL, 1815. Cloaked, O Diogenes! In garb like thine, at ease, Free and content, to laugh and drink my task. Cloaked, O Diogenes! In garb like thine, at ease. Free and content I trundle round my ca«k. It was from water thou didst draw thy rudeness, so they say; I never drink it, and indeed, a censor far more gay, In less than one month, for a place that might my wis- dom hold. Quite dry I fairly drained a cask of generous wine and old. f2 51 LE NOUVEAU DIOGENE. Diogene, Sous ton manteau, Libre et content, je ris et bois sans gene. Diogene, Sous ton manteau, Libre et content, je roule mon tonneau. Oil je suis bien aisement je sejourne; Mais, comme nous, les dieux sont inconstants: Dans mon tonneau, sur ce globe qui tourne, ' Je tourne avec la fortune et le temps. Diogene, Sous ton manteau, Libre et content, je ris et bois sans gene. Diogene, Sous ton manteau, Libre et content, je roule mon tonneau. Pour les partis dont cent fois j'osai rire, Ne pouvant etre un utile soutien, Devant ma tonne on ne viendra pas dire : Pour qui tiens-tii, toi qui ne tiens a rien ? Diogene, Sous ton manteau, Libre et content, je ris et bois sans gene. Diogene, Sous ton manteau, Libre et content, je roule mou tonneau J'aime a fronder les prejuge's gothiques, Et les cordons de toutes les couleurs; Mais, e'trangere aux execs politiques, Ma Libertd n'a qu'un chapeau de fleurs. • THE NEW DIOGENES. 55 Cloaked, O Diogenes! In garb like thine, at ease. Free and content, to laugh and drink my task. Cloaked, O Diogenes! In garb like thine, at ease. Free and content I trundle round my cask. Where'er I be, right easily my lodging I arrange ; But since, like us, the gods themselves are apt to love a change. Snug in my cask upon this globe that turns for ever round, , ' As time and fortune turn, I turn with them along the ground. Cloaked, O Diogenes! In garb like thine, at ease, Free and content, to laugh and drink my task. Cloaked, O Diogenes! In garb like thine, at ease. Free and content I trundle round my cask. Parties, of whom a hundred times I've ventured to make sport. Believing that they cannot find in me a firm support, Take not the trouble now to stop before my cask and say, " You, who to nothing hold, for whom hold you your- self, we pray ?" Cloaked, O Diogenes! In garb like thine, at ease, - Free and content, to laugh and drink my task. Cloaked, O Diogenes ! In garb like thine, at ease. Free and content I trundle round my cask. All Gothic prejudice it is my pleasure to abuse; My pleasure, too, it is to rail at ribbons of all hues. But no political excess my Liberty will own ; Her brow is decked, in place of cap, with wreaths of flowers alone. 56 LE NOUVEAU DIOGENE. Diogene, Sous ton manteau, Libre et content, je ris et bois sans gene. Diogene, Sous ton manteau, Libre et content, je roule mon tonneau. Qu'en un congres, se partageant le monde, Des potentats soient trompeurs ou tromp^s, Je ne vais point demander a la ronde, Si de ma tonne ils se sont occup^s. Diogene, Sous ton manteau, Libre et content, je ris et bois sans gene. Diogene, Sous ton manteau, Libre et content, je roule mon tonnean. N'ignorant pas oil conduit la satire, Je fuis des cours le pompeux appareil : Des vains honneurs trop enclin a medire, Aupres des rois je crains pour mon soleil. Diogene, Sous ton manteau, Libre et content, je ris et bois sans gene. Diogene, Sous ton manteau, Libre et content, je roule mon tonneau. Lanteme en main, dans I'Athenes moderne Chercher un homme est un dessein fort beau. Mais quand le soir voit briller ma lanteme, C'est qu'aux amours elle sert de flambeau. THE NEW DIOGENES. 57 Cloaked, O Diogenes! In garb like thine, at ease. Free and content, to laugh and drink my task. Cloaked, O Diogenes ! In garb like thine, at ease. Free and content I trundle round my cask. When they in Congress meet, the world amongst them- selves to share. Let potentates deceivers be, or be deceived there ; I do not to myself propose to ask them, one by one. If they have thought to regulate the business of my tun. Cloaked, O Diogenes! In garb like thine, at ease. Free and content, to laugh and drink my task. Cloaked, O Diogenes! In garb like thine, at ease. Free and content I trundle round my cask. Not ignorant how satire may conduct to certain ends, I fly the ceremonious pomp that on a court attends; Of empty honours too much prone to say abusive things, I always tremble for my sun in presence of our kings. Cloaked, O Diogenes! In garb like thine, at ease, Free and content, to laugh and drink my task. Cloaked, O Diogenes! In garb like thine, at case. Free and content I trundle round my cask. In modem Athens to pretend, with lantern in one's hand. To seek a man, were a design most beautifully planned; But if the evening chance to see my lantern brightly glow. It is that it, on Love's behalf, may serve as a flambeau. 58 TRAITE DE POLITIQUE. Diogene, Sous ton manteau, Libre et content, je ris et bois sans gene. Diogene, Sous ton manteau, Libre et content, je roule mon tonneau. Exempt d'impot, ddserteur de phalange, Je suis pourtant assez bon citoyen: Si les tonneaux manquaient pour la vendange, Sans murmurer je pr^terais le mien. Diogene, Sous ton manteau, Libre et content, je ris et bois sans gene. Diogene, Sous ton manteau, Libre et content, je roule mon tonneau. TRAITE DE POLITIQUE, A L'uSAGE D£ LISE. Cent Jours, Mai, 1815. LiSE, qui r^gnes par la grace Du Dieu qui nous rend tous ^gaux, Ta beauts, que rien ne surpasse, Enchaine un peuple de rivaux. Mais, si grand que soit ton empire, Lise, tes amants sont P'ranfais; De tes erreurs permets de rire, Pour le bonheur de tes sujets. A TREATISE ON POLITICS. 59 Cloaked, O Diogenes ! In garb like thine, at ease. Free and content, to laugh and drink my task. Cloaked, O Diogenes! In garb like thine, at ease, Free and content I trundle round my cask. No taxes called upon to pay, deserter from the ranks, Still as a citizen I feel that I deserve some thanks; For if at vintage-time more casks be wanting for the wine, For such a purpose I will lend, without a murmur, mine. Cloaked, O Diogenes! In garb like thine, at ease. Free and content, to laugh and drink my task. Cloaked, O Diogenes! In garb like thine, at ease. Free and content I trundle round my cask. A TREATISE ON POLITICS, for the use of liz. The Hundred Days, May, 1815. In this admirable song, full of sound political advice, it Is the Emperor Napoleon who is apostrophised, under the pleasant disguise of Liz. O Liz, who reignest by the grace Of God, who makes us equal all. Thy matchless beauty holds a race Of rivals still in thrall. But vast as may thine empire be, Liz, in thy lovers Frenchmen see; And at thy faults let us to jest be free. For thy subjects' sake ! 60 TRAITK DE POLITIQUE. Combien les belles et les princes Aiment Tabus d'un grand pouvoir ! Combien d'amants et de provinces Poussds enfin au ddsespoir! Grains que la revolte ennemie Dans ton boudoir ne trouve acces; Lise, abjure la tyrannic, Pour le bonheur de tes sujets. Par exces de coquetterie Femme ressemble aux conqudrants. Qui vont bien loin de leur patrie Dompter cent peuples difFdrents. Ce sont de terribles coquettes ! N'imite pas leurs vains projets. Lise, ne fais plus de conquetes. Pour le bonheur de tes sujets. Grace aux courtisans pleins de zele. On approche des potentats Moins aisement que d'une belle Dont un jaloux suit tous les pas. Mais sur ton lit, trone paisible. Oil le plaisir rend ses ddcrets, Lise, sois toujours accessible. Pour le bonheur de tes sujets. Lise, en vain un roi nous assure Que, s'il regne, il le doit aux cieux, Ainsi qu'a la simple nature Tu dois de charmer tous les yeux. Bien, qu'en des mains comme les tiennes Le sceptre passe sans proces, De nous il faiit que tu le tiennes. Pour le bonheur de tes sujets. Pour te faire adorer sans cesse, Mets a profit ces \6nt6a. Lise, deviens bonne princesse, Et respecte nos libertds. A TREATISE ON POLITICS. 61 How many belles, and princes too, Love to abuse their sovereign strength ! What states, what lovers, not a few, Come to despair at length ! Dread, lest, perchance, revolt some day To thy boudoir should find its way: Ah ! never, never, Liz, the tyrant play. For thy subjects' sake ! By too much coquetry beguiled. Women pursue the conqueror's aim. Who from his country far is wiled, A hundred tribes to tame. A terrible coquette he seems: Oh! follow not his empty dreams; Nor cherish, Liz, of conquest further schemes. For thy subjects' sake ! Thanks to the courtiers' zeal, 'tis harder A mighty monarch to come nigh. Than Beauty's self, who has to guard her Some ever-jealous eye. But to thy couch, that peaceful throne. Where Pleasure her decrees makes known, Liz, let the way accessible be shown. For thy subjects' sake ! In vain a king would have us know. That, if he reign. Heaven wills his sway; As, Liz, to nature thou dost owe The charms that all obey. Though without question we resign The sceptre to such hands as thine. Of us to hold it thou must not decline. For thy subjects' sake! That we for aye thy name may bless. On these plain truths, O Liz! reflecting. Strive to become a good princess. Our liberties respecting ! 62 ADIEUX DE MARIE STUART. Des roses que I'amour moissonne Ceins ton front tout brillant d'attraits, Et garde long-temps ta couronne, Pour le bonheur de tes sujets. ADIEUX DE MARIE STUART. Adieu, charmant pays de France, Que je dois tant chdrir! Berceau de mon heureuse enfance, Adieu ! te quitter c'est mourir. Toi que j'adoptai pour patrie, Et d'ou je crois me voir bannir, Entends les adieux de Marie, France, et garde son souvenir. Le vent souffle, on quitte la plage ; Et, peu touchd de mes sanglots, Dieu, pour me rendre a ton rivage, Dieu n'a point soulev^ les flots. Adieu, charmant pays de France, Que je dois tant che'rir! Berceau de mon heureuse enfance, Adieu ! te quitter c'est mourir. Lorsqu'aux yeux du peuple que j'aime Je ceignis les lis dclatants, II applaudit au rang supreme Moins qu'aux charmes de mon printemps. En vain la grandeur souveraine M 'attend chez le sombre Ecossais; Je n'ai ddsire d'etre reine Que pour r^gner sur des Fran9ais. THE FAREWELL OF MARY STUART. 63 Wreathe round thy brow, all bright and fair. The roses that Love reaps, and there For many a day thy crown securely wear, For thy subjects' sake! THE FAREWELL OF MARY STUART. Adieu ! thou charming land of France, adieu ! So fondly cherished in my heart; Cradle, wherein a joyous child I grew, 'Tis death from thee to part ! Adopted home, where I would dwell. And which, an exile, I must leave, France, hear thy Mary's last farewell. And to her memory cleave. The breeze is up, we quit the shore. And Heaven, unheedful of my sighs, To drive me back to thee once more. Bids not the waves arise. Adieu ! thou charming land of France, adieu ! So fondly cherished in my heart; Cradle, wherein a joyous child I grew, 'Tis death from thee to part ! Oft, when amid that much-loved crowd I donned the lilies, 'twas in truth Less to my rank supreme they bowed. Than to my charms of youth. The sombre Scots their queen await. But regal grandeur all is vain ; If e'er I sought the queenly state, O'er Frenchmen 'twas to reign ! 64 ADIEUX DE MARIE STUART. Adieu, charmant pays de France, Que je dois tant cherir! Berceau de mon heureuse enfance. Adieu ! te quitter c'est mourir. L 'amour, la gloire, le ge'nie, Ont trop enivre mes beaux jours; Dans rinculte Caledonie De mon sort va changer le cours. H^las ! un presage terrible Doit livrer mon coeur a Teffroi : J'ai cru voir, dans un songe horrible, Un ^chafaud dresse pour moi. Adieu, charmant pays de France, Que je dois tant chdrir! Berceau de mon heureuse enfance. Adieu ! te quitter c'est mourir. France, du milieu des alarmes, La noble fiUe des Stuarts, Comme en ce jour qui voit ses larmes. Vers toi tournera ses regards. Mais, Dieu ! le vaisseau trop rapide D^ja vogue sous d'autres cieux ; Et la nuit, dans son voile humide, D^robe tes bords a mes yeux ! Adieu, charmant pays de France, Que je dois tant cherir ! Berceau de mon heureuse enfance, Adieu ! te quitter c'est mourir. THE FAREWELL OF MARY STUART. 65 Adieu ! thou channing land of France, adieu ! So fondly cherished in my heart; Cradle, wherein a joyous child I grew, Tis death from thee to part ! Glory, and gallantry, and wit. Too much my happy days beguiled ; To change of fate I must submit In Caledonia wild. Alas! alas! oppressed with fear My sad foreboding heart must be : In awful dream I saw appear A scaifold, raised for me. Adieu ! thou charming land of France, adieu ! So fondly cherished in my heart; Cradle, wherein a joyous child I grew, 'Tis death from thee to part ! O France ! when horrors round her sweep. The Stuarts' noble daughter then. As on this day that sees her weep. To thee will look again. But, Heavens ! already glides our sail. Too swift, beneath less welcome skies: And night, within her humid veil. Conceals thee from mine eyes ! Adieu ! thou channing land of France, adieu ! So fondly cherished in my heart; Cradle, wherein a joyous child I grew, 'Tis death from thee to part ! 66 PLUS DE POLITIQUE. JUILLET, 1815. Ma mie, 6 vows que j 'adore, Mais qui vous plaignez toujours, Que mon pays ait encore Trop de part a mes amours ! Si la politique ennuie, Meme en froudant les abus, Rassurez-vous, ma mie; Je n'en parlerai plus. Pres de vous, j'en ai me'moire, Donnant prise a nies rivaux, Des arts, enfants de la gloire, Je racontais les travaux. A notre France agrandie lis prodiguaient leurs tributs. Rassurez-vous, ma mie ; Je n'en parlerai plus. Moi, peureux dont on se raille, Apres d'amoureux combats, J'osais vous parler bataille, Et chanter nos fiers soldats. Par eux la terre asservie Voyait tous ses rois vaincus. Rassurez-vous, ma mie; Je n'en parlerai plus. Sans me lasser de vos chaines, J'invoquais la liberte; Du nom de Rome et d'Athenes J 'effrayais votre gaite. 67 NO MORE POLITICS. July, 1815. Oh, mistress mine ! on whom I dote, Though you complain 'tis hard, That to my country still I give Too much of my regard ! If politics — nay, even to lash Abuses — be a bore; Be re-assured, sweet mistress mine, I'll talk of them no more. With you, I recollect it well. My rivals' game I played. Whilst Glory's offspring, works of Art, My chosen theme I made. They lavished on our France, grown great. Their tributary store ; Be re-assured, sweet mistress mine, I'll talk of them no more. I, coward whom they ridicule, When Love his arms had plied, I dared to you of battles prate. And sing our soldiers' pride. Subdued by them, the Earth beheld Her kings all smitten sore ; Be re-assured, sweet mistress mine, I'll talk of them no more. Freedom I ventured to invoke. Though still your chains were light; With Rome and Athens' names I put Your gaiety to flight. 68 LES OISEAUX. Q,uoique, au fond, je me d^fie De nos modernes Titus, Rassurez-vous, ma mie ; Je n'en parlerai plus. La France, que rien n'egale, Et dont le monde est jaloux, Etait la seule rivale Qui fut a craindre pour vous. Mais, las! j'ai pour ma patrie Fait trop de voeux superflus. Rassurez-vous, ma mie; Je n'en parlerai plus. Oui, ma mie, il faut vous croire; Faisons-nous d'obscurs loisirs. Sans plus songer a Ig, gloire, Dormons au sein des plaisirs. Sous une ligue ennemie Les Franfais sont abattus. Rassurez-vous, ma mie; Je n'en parlerai plus. LES OISEAUX. couplets adresses a m. arnault, partant pour son £xil. Janvier, 1816. L'HiVER redoublant ses ravages De'sole nos toits et nos champs; Les oiseaux sur d'autres rivages Portent leurs amours et leurs chants. Mais le calme d'un autre asile Ne les rendra pas inconstants ; Les oiseaux que I'hiver exile Reviendront avec le printenips. THE BIRDS. 69 But though our modern Tituaes I may mistrust at core; Be re-assured, sweet mistress mine, I'll talk of them no more. Unequalled France, on whom the world With jealous envy leers. Was the sole rival then, in truth. That might have raised your fears. But for my country vows I've made Too many heretofore; Be re-assured, sweet mistress mine, I'll talk of them no more. Yes, mistress mine, you're right! be ours Obscurity and leisure : Let's dream no more of fame, but sleep Rocked on the breast of pleasure. France is o'erwhelmed beneath the League, That bitter hatred swore ; Be re-assured, sweet mistress mine, I'll talk of it no more. THE BIRDS. ver8b8 addressed to monsieur arnault, going into exile. January, 1816. It may be well to remark that printemps was a sort of pass-word, or sign of recognition, amongst the partisans of Napoleon. Winter, redoubling his attacks. The field, the roof lays waste; Charged with their loves and songs, the birds To distant regions haste. Yet, in their calm retreat, to us Their constant thoughts shall cling: The birds, that Winter drives away. Will come again with Spring. 70 cE n'est plus lisktte. A I'exil le sort les condamne, Et plus qu'eux nous en g^missons. Du palais et de la cabane LMcho redisait leurs chansons. Qu'ils aillent d'un bord plus tranquille Channer les heureux habitants. Les oiseaux que I'hiver exile Reviendront avec le printemps. Oiseaux fixes sur cette plage, Nous portons envie a leur sort. Deja plus d'un sombre nuage S'deve et gronde au fond du nord. Heureux qui sur une aile agile Pent s¥loigner quelques instants ! Les oiseaux que I'hiver exile Reviendront avec le printemps. lis penseront a notre peine, Et, I'orage enfin dissipiJ, lis reviendront sur le vieux chene Que tant de fois il a frappe. Pour predire au vallon fertile De beaux jours alors plus constants, Les oiseaux que I'hiver exile Reviendront avec le printemps. CE N'EST PLUS LISETTE. Quoi ! Lisette, est-ce vous ? Vous, en riche toilette ! Vous, avec des bijoux ! Vous, avec une aigrette ! Eh ! non, non, non, Vous n'etes plus Lisette. Eh ! non, non, non, Ne portez plus ce nom. IT IS LISETTE NO MORE. 71 Fate into exile sends them forth ; We moum it more than they: The palace and the cabin walls Have echoed with their lay. Then let them, on some tranquil shore. To happier people sing: The birds, that Winter drives away. Will come again with Spring. Fast to this spot, we, hapless birds. With envy see them fly; Already dark and muttering clouds O'erhang the Northern sky. Ah ! happy, who, for some brief space. Can flee on rapid wing: The birds, that Winter drives away. Will come again with Spring. They'll think upon the pain we feel ; And when the storm is past, Will seek again the aged oak. That braved so oft the blast. Signs of glad days, more constant then. To our rich vale to bring. The birds, that Winter drives away. Will come again with Spring, IT IS LISETTE NO MORE. What ! is it you, Lisette ? You a rich robe can wear ? You mounting an aigrette ? You decked with jewels rare ? _^h, no, no no, no no. You are Lisette no more ; Jah, no, no no, no no. Bear not the name vou bore ! 72 CE n'est plus lisette. Vos pieds dans le satin N'osent fouler I'herbette ; Des fleurs de votre teint Ou faites-vous emplette ? Eh ! non, non, non, Vous n'etes plus Lisette. Eh ! non, non, non, Ne portez plus ce nom. Dans un lieu d^core De tout ce qui s'achete, L'opulence a dor^ Jusqu'a votre couchette. Eh ! non, non, non, Vous n'etes plus Lisette. Eh ! non, non, non, Ne portez plus ce nom. Votre bouche sourit D'une fajon discrete. Vous montrez de Tesprit ; Du moins on le repete. Eh ! non, non, non, Vous n'etes plus Lisette. Eh ! non, non, non, Ne portez plus ce nom. Comme ils sent loin ces jours Ou, dans votre chambrette, La reine des amours N'dtait qu'une grisette ! Eh ! non, non, non, Vous n'etes plus Lisette. Eh ! non, non, non, Ne portez plus ce nom. Quand d'un coeur anioureux Vous prisiez la conquete, Vous faisiez dix heureux, Et n'dtiez pas coquette. IT IS LISETTE NO MORE. 7.3 111 satin shod, your feet \ Dare not the herbage try ; ' Your rosy hue is sweet, 1 Its tints where did you buy ? ,; Ah, no, no no, no no, 1 You are Lisette no more ; \ J8h, no, no no, no no, ] Bear not the name you bore ! ] Where wealth adonis the scene ; With all that can be bought, j Your very couch hath been With gilding richly wrought. J^h, no, no no, no no, ^ You are Lisette no more ; j ^h, no, no no, no no, i Bear not the name you bore ! S miloo on your lipo aro ohown ^^^A*. yn^ t~i^ * a'*Ta^ . I TKo; , j.fiii^ iTn,.|i,| rnrnnit ^ ''" '^^ ^'^^ ^ -^^^ ' i -Ah, no, no no, no no, \ You are Lisette no more ; I Jaih, no, no no, no no. Bear not the name you bore ! i Those days must distant be, ? When in your garret yet, ■ The queen of love for me , \ Was only a grisette. 1 jAh, no, no no, no no. You are Lisette no more ; Ah, no, no no, no no. Bear not the name you bore ! * When on one amorous heart . . ' ¥oHr aonqnoring ipall wnw Hcti,^«w.y< lit. f^l leu. Setf\ Ten in your smiles had part, Yat you nrarw iin MOtinwtto, ^rv ivtic ^vu. a gave riooi T, tf^^ /ee^eU d u^^^ki. „^ri^£ With its bright flashes many a lyre : :i I blush not to confess it true, J Rosette her letters scarcely knew; J And when at loss her words to choose, J Love, as interpreter, would use. ^ Ah ! wherefore can I not for you, : As for Rosette, feel love anew? < With yours compared, her charms were few; Her very heart less tender too: Nor looked she with so soft an eye j On happy lover Listening by. But still she charmed me ; for, in sooth, I Hers was my much-regretted youth ! % Ah! wherefore can I not for you, i As for Rosette, feel love anew ? ) 130 LES DEUX COUSINS; LBTTRE D UN PETIT ROl A UN PETIT DUC. 1821. Salut ! petit cousin-germain ; D'un lieu d'exil j'ose fecrire. La Fortune te tend la main ; Ta naissance I'a fait sourire. Mon premier jour aussi fut beau ; Point de Franyais qui n'en convienne. Les rois m'adoraient au berceau; Et cependant je suis a Vienne ! Je fus berc^ par tes faiseurs De vers, de chansons, de poemes ; lis sont, comme les confiseurs. Partisans de tous les baptemes. Les eaux d'un fleuve bien mondain Vont laver ton ame chrdtienne : On m'ofFrit de I'eau du Jourdain; Et cependant je suis a Vienne ! Ces juges, ces pairs avilis, Qui te pre'disent des merveilles, De mon temps juraient que les lis Seraient le butin des abeilles. 131 THE TWO COUSINS ; ! OR, ■: LETTER FROM A LITTLE KISO TO A LITTLE DUKE. 1821. j It is scarcely necessary to inform the reader, that Napoleon's ^ son, christened King of Rome, and the Due de Bordeaux, son i of the Due de Berri, are the little king and the little duke J here spoken of. Young Napoleon was cousin to the Bourbons j of France, and cousin-german to the Due de Bordeaux, tlirough ;! his mother, who was daughter to a princess of Naples. The { literal fulfilment of the prophecy herein contained is a remark- i able proof of the poet's political sagacity. The Due de Bor- deaux, an exile from France, is now under the protection of the Court of Austria, as the Due de Reichstadt was in 1821. J The Bees and the Lilies are the well-known respective devices of Napoleon and the Bourbons. Hail, my little cousin-german, hail ! '• Exiled hither, still I dare address thee : h Kindly Fortune doth for thee prevail; j At thy birth her smile did surely bless thee. My first day was also fair and proud ; ; 'Tis a fact no Frenchman will deny; j Kings before my cradle lowly bowed — At Vienna ne'ertheless am I ! Rocked was I by those, who now for thee ; Fulsome verses, odes, and songs indite ; ■: Like confectioners, they're sure to be J Partisans of each baptismal rite. A Water, when thy Christian soul they lave, i Shall a common, worldly stream supply; ■ Mine was brought for me from Jordan's wave — At Vienna ne'ertheless am I ! ] Judges and dishonoured peers, who now j Wondrous things about thy future say, ^ Did in my time solemnly avow, That the Bees should on the Lilies prey. ; 132 LES DEUX COUSINS. Parmi les nobles detracteurs De toute vertu plebdenne, Ma nourrice avait des flatteurs ; Et cependant je suis a Vienne ! Sur des lauriers je me couchais ; La pourpre seule t'environne. Des sceptres etaient mes hochets; Mon bourlet fut une couronne. M^chant bourlet, puisqu'un faux pas Meme au Saint- P^re 6tait la sienne. Mais j 'avals pour moi nos prdlats; Et cependant je suis a Vienne ! Quant aux mardchaux, je crois peu Que du monde ils t'ouvrent I'entrde; lis prdferent au cordon bleu De I'honneur Te'toile sacrde. Mon pere a leur beau ddvoument Livra sa fortune et la mienne. lis auront tenu leur serment; Et cependant je suis a Vienne ! Pres du trone si tu grandis. Si je vdgete sans puissance, Confonds ces courtisans maudits. En leur rappelant ma naissance. Dis-leur : " Je puis avoir mon tour : De mon cousin qu'il vous souvienne. Vous lui promettiez votre amour ; Et cependant il est k Vienne !" THE TWO COUSINS. 133 Ay ! amongst the nobles, who aver All plebeian virtues are a lie. Did my nurse find some to flatter her — At Vienna ne'ertheless am I ! I reposed upon a bed of laurels ; Thee the purple doth alone enwrap ; I with sceptres played, instead of corals ; With a crown, instead of padded cap. Treacherous pad ! for one false footstep made, Lo ! the Pope himself thrown, crownless, by — All our prelates were for me arrayed — At Vienna ne'ertheless am I ! For the Marshals, I can scarcely deem, They will clear the path thou may'st pursue ; Honour's sacred star for them, 'twould seem. Still is dearer than the Cordon Bleu. For his fortunes and for mine, my sire Did on their devotedness rely : They their pledges surely kept entire — At Vienna ne'ertheless am I ! If thou growest up, beside the throne ; If I vegetate, debarred of power ; Be thy scorn of these vile courtiers shown ; Bid them recollect my natal hour. Say to them, " I, too, the turn may share ; Let my cousin's fate remembered be ; You to him did once allegiance swear—. At Vienna ne'ertheless is he !" 134 L'ORAGE. Chers enfants, dansez, dansez ! ^ Votre age Echappe k I'orage : Par I'espoir gaiment berets, Dansez, chantez, dansez ! A I'ombre de vertes charmilles, Fuyant I'dcole et les le9on8, Petits gar9ons, petites fiUes, Vous voulez danger aux chansons. En vain ce pauvre monde Craint de nouveaux malheurs ; En vain la foudre gronde, Couronnez-vous de fleurs. Chers enfants, dansez, dansez ! Votre age Echappe a I'orage: Par I'espoir gaiment berets, Dansez, chantez, dansez ! L'^clair sillonne le nuage, Mais il n'a point frapp^ vos yeiix. L'oiseau se tait dans le feuillage ; Rien n'interrompt vos chants joyeux. J'en crois votre allegresse ; Oui, bientot d'un ciel pur Vos yeux, brillants d'ivresse, R^fl^chiront I'azur. Chers enfants, dansez, dansez ! Votre age Echappe a I'orage : Par I'espoir gaiment bercds, Dansez, chantez, dansez ! 135 THE STOKM. Dance, dance, dear Children, dance away ; Storms to your age no ills can bring : Hope gaily leads you forth to play ; Dance, dance, and sing ! You, gentle girl, you, tiny boy, If school and books ye can evade. To your own songs would dance with joy Beneath the green elm's shade. This poor world fears in vain That fresh ill o'er it lowers ; Let thunder growl again ; Go, crown yourselves with flowers ! Dance, dance, dear Children, dance away ; Storms to your age no ills can bring : Hope gaily leads you forth to play ; Dance, dance, and sing ! The lightning through the clouds may plough ; It hath not struck your youthful eyes : The bird is silent on the bough ; Still your gay songs arise. Ye are of heart so light, That soon, I do suspect, Your eyes in phrensy bright Will Heaven's pure blue reflect. Dance, dance, dear Children, dance away; Storms to your age no ills can bring : Hope gaily leads you forth to play ; Dance, dance, and sing ! 136 Vos peres ont eu bien des peines ; Comme eux ne soyez point trahis. D'une main ils brisaient leurs ehaines, De I'autre ils vengeaient leur pays. De ]eur char de victoire Tombes sans deshonneur, lis vous leguent la gloire : Ce fut tout leur bonheur. Chers enfants, dansez, dansez ! Votre age Echappe a Torage : Par Pespoir gaiment bercds, Dansez, chantez, dansez ! All bruit de lugubres fanfares, Hdas ! vos yeux se sont ouverts. C'e'tait le clairon des Barbares Qui vous annon9ait nos revers, Dans le fracas des armes, Sous nos toits en debris, Vous meliez a nos larmes Votre premier souris. Chers enfants, dansez, dansez ! Votre age Echappe a I'orage : Par Pespoir gaiment berets, Dansez, chantez, dansez ! Vous triompherez des tempetes Oil notre courage expira : C'est en e'clatant sur nos tetes Q,ue la foudre nous iJclaira. Si le Dieu qui vous aime Crut devoir nous punir. Pour vous sa main resseme Les champs de I'avenir. THE STORM. 137 Your fathers suffered many pains ; Be not like them by knaves trepanned ! They with one hand did break their chains. With one avenge their land. They fell from Victory's car. Without disgrace o'erthrown ; Heirs to their fame ye are ; They cherished £ajne alone. Dance, dance, dear Children, dance away; Storms to your age no ills can bring : Hope gaily leads you forth to play ; Dance, dance, and sing ! To ill-toned blasts, that rung around. Your eyes, alas ! did ye unclose : Twas the Barbarians' trumpet sound. That told you of our woes. The din of arms to hear. Our ruined roofs to see. Was yours — we shed the tear— You smiled in infant glee. Dance, dance, dear Children, dance away ; Storms to your age no ills can bring : Hope gaily leads you forth to play ; Dance, dance, and sing ! You'll triumph o'er the stormy blast. Wherein our courage drooped and died; The bolt, that on our heads was cast, A beacon-light supplied. If God, your friend indeed. Deemed chastisement our due. Again he sows the seed Of future joy for you. n2 138 ADIEUX A LA CAMPAGNE. Chers enfants, dausez, dansez ! Votre age Echappe a I'orage : Par I'espoir gaiment bercds, Dansez, chantez, dansez ! Enfants, I'orage, qui redouble, Du Sort presage le courroax. Le Sort ne vous cause aucune trouble, Mais a mon age on craint ses coups. S'il faut que je succombe En chantant nos malheurs, Ddposez sur ma tombe Vos couronnes de fleurs. Chers enfants, dansez, dansez ! Votre age Echappe a Torage : Par I'espoir gaiment berces, Dansez, chantez, dansez ! ADIEUX A LA CAMPAGNE. SoLEiL si doux au de'clin de I'automne, Arbres jaunis, je viens vous voir encor. N'esp^rons plus que la haine pardonne A mes chansons leur trop rapide essor. Dans cet asile, o\ reviendra Z^phyre, J'ai tout reve, meme un nom glorieux. Ciel vaste et pur, daigne encor me sourire ; Echos des bois, repdtez mes adieux. FAREWELL TO THE COUNTRY. 139 Dance, dance, dear Children, dance away; Storms to your age no ills can bring : Hope gaily leads you forth to play ; Dance, dance, and sing ! Children, the storm, redoubled, shows That Fate in angry mood draws near : Ye little cure for Fate, whose blows I, at my age, must fear. If death must be my doom Whilst singing woes of ours. Ah ! lay upon my tomb Your coronets of flowers ! Dance, dance, dear Children, dance away ; Storms to your age no ills can bring : Hope gaily leads you forth to play; Dance, dance, and sing ! FAREWELL TO THE COUNTRY. This song, written in the month of November, 1821, was copied and distributed in Court, on the day of the first condemnation of the author for a libel on the Government. The first line of the third stanza refers to the fact, that the Government had compelled the Council of the University to deprive Beranger of the small appointment, which he had held in it for twelve years. Beranger observes, however, that he had been warned that it would be taken from him, if he persisted in publishing his second collection of songs. Bellart was the law-olficer of the Crown, who conducted the prosecution. O SUN, so soft with autumn's fading light ! yellow trees, ye gladden yet my sight ! Adieu the hope, that hatred still may spare The flight, too lofty, that my songs will dare. In this retreat, where Zephyr may return, 1 dreamed — ay, e'en that I a name might earn. Heaven, vast and pure, one smile in pity deign ! O echoing woods, repeat my farewell strain ! 110 ADIEUX A LA CAMPAGNE. Comme I'oisecau, libre sous la feuill^e, Que n'ai-je ici laissd mourir mes chants ! Mais de grandeurs la France depouillee Courbait son front sous le joug des mediants. Je leur langai les traits de la satire ; Pour mon bonheur I'amour m'inspirait mieux. ^iel vaste et pur, daigne encor me sourire ; Echos des bois, repetez mes adieux. Dija leur rage atteint mon indigence ; Au tribunal ils trainent ma gaitd ; D'un masque saint ils couvrent leur vengeance : Rougiraient-ils devant ma probite ? Ah ! Dieu n'a point leur coeur pour me maudire: L'Intolerance est fille des faux dieux, Ciel vaste et pur, daigne encor me sourire ; Echos des bois, repetez mes adieux. Sur des tombeaux si j'evoque la Gloire, Si j'ai prie pour d'illustres soldats, Ai-je a prix d'or, aux pieds de la Victoire, Encourage la meurtre des etats ? Ce n'etait point le soleil de I'empire Qu'a son lever je chantais dans ces lieux. Ciel vaste et pur, daigne encor me sourire ; Echos des bois, rdpe'tez mes adieux. Que dans I'espoir d'humilier ma vie, Bellart s'amuse a mesurer mes fers ; Meme aux regards de la France asservie Un noir cachot pent illustrer mes vers. A sea barreaux je suspendrai ma lyre ; La Renommde y jettera les yeux. Ciel vaste et pur, daigne encor me sourire : Echos des bois, rdpetez mes adieux. Sur ma prison vienne au moins Philomele ! Jadis un roi causa tons ses malheurs. Partons: j'entends Ic geolier qui m'appelle ; Adieu les champs, les eaux, les pres, les fleurs. FAREWELL TO THE COUNTRY. 141 Why, like the bird, in freedom did not I Amid these bowers permit my songs to die ? Shorn of her grandeur, France was forced to bow Beneath the yoke of knaves her haughty brow ; I against them my shafts of satire sped, j^/^^ Though Love to themes for me more l«B4^ad led. Heaven, vast and pure, one smile in pity deign! O echoing woods, repeat my farewell strain ! Even now their rage attacks my poor support; They drag my gaiety before a Court : O'er their revenge a pious mask they place — What ! would they blush mine honesty to face ? Ah ! God hath not their heart, to curse me prone ; Child of false gods. Intolerance is known. Heaven, vast and pure, one smile in pity deign! O echoing woods, repeat my farewell strain ! If I o'er tombs have bidden Glory wake; If for great warriors orisons I make ; Did I, for price of gold, at Victory's feet. The spoiling of weak States applauding greet ? 'Twas not, in truth, the Empire's rising sun. That on this spot my Muse's homage won ! Heaven, vast and pure, one smile in pity deign ! O echoing woods, repeat my farewell strain ! Yes, let Bellart, with joyous, zealous pains. In hope to humble me, mete out my chains ! Tamed though she be, still in the eyes of France The darksome dungeon will my verse enhance : From its stem bars my lyre will I suspend ; Thereon shall Fame her eyes attentive bend. Heaven, vast and pure, one smile in pity deign I O echoing woods, repeat my farewell strain ! At least may Philomel my prison bless! Her too, of old, a monarch did oppress. Away ! I hear my jailer's sullen call : Fields, waters, meadows, flowers, adieu to all ! 142 LE PIGEON MESSAGER. Mes fers sont prets : la liberty m'inspire : Je vais chanter son hymne glorieux. Ciel vaste et pur, daigne encor me souriie ; Echos dc8 bois, r(5pdtez mes adieux. LE PIGEON MESSAGER. 1822. L'ai brillait, et ma jeune maitresse Chantait les dieux dans la Grece oubli^s. Nous comparions notre France a la Grece, Quand un pigeon vient s'abattre a nos pieds. Nceris de'couvre un billet sous son aile . II le portait vers de foyers ch^ris. Bois dans ma coupe, 6 messager fidele ! Et dors en paix sur le sein de Nceris. II est tomb^, las d'un trop long voyage ; Rendons-lui vite et force et liberte. D'un trafiquant remplit-il le message ? Va-t-il d'amour parler a la beauts ? Peut-etre il porte au nid qui le rappelle Les derniers vceux d'infortunes proscrits. Bois dans ma coupe, 6 messager fidele ! Et dors en paix sur le sein de Nceris. Mais du billet quelques mots me font croire Q,u'il est en France a des Grecs apport^. II vient d'Athenes; il doit parler de gloire : Lisons-le done par droit de parente. Athene est libre ! amis! quelle nouvelle ! Que de lauriers tout-a-coup refleuris ! Bois dans ma coupe, o messager fidele ! Et dors en paix sur le sein de Neeris. THE CARRIER PIGEON. 143 My chains are ready ; but by Freedom fired, I go to chant her glorious hymn untired. Heaven, vast and pure, one smile in pity deign ! O echoing woods, repeat my farewell strain ! THE CARRIER PIGEON. 1822. The Greeks were at this period making efforts to free them- selves from the Turkish yoke. Mv Champagne sparkled ; my young mistress' song Told of those gods in Greece forgotten long: Of Greece we spoke, comparing her with France, When at our feet a pigeon fell by chance. Beneath his wing a note my Nceris found. With which to haunts long-cherished he was bound. Drink of my cup; then, safely sleeping, rest, O faithful messenger, on Nceris' breast ! He falls, exhausted by a flight too long; Again we'll free him when he's fresh and strong. On some commercial errand is he bent? With words of love to distant beauty sent? Or bears he to the nest, that lures him home. The latest vows of those who exiled roam ? Drink of my cup ; then, safely sleeping, rest, O faithful messenger, on Nceris' breast ! But hold ! these few words show me that he seeks Our land of France, with tidings for the Greeks. They come from Athens I glorious must they be ; Let's read — ^the right of relatives have we. Athens is free 1 friends, what glad surprise ! What laurels from the dust at once shall rise! Drink of my cup ; then, safely sleeping, rest, O faithful messenger, on Nceris' breast ! 144 LA SYLPHIDE. Athene est libre ! ah ! buvons a la Grece ; Noeris, voici de nouveaux demi-dieux. L'Europe en vain, tremblante de vieillesse, Ddsh^ritait ces ain^s glorieux. lis sont vainqueurs; Athenes, toujours belle, N'est plus voude au culte des deljris. Bois dans ma coupe, o messager fidele ! Et dors en paix sur le sein de Noeris. Athene est libre ! d muse des Pindares ! Reprends ton sceptre, et ta lyre, et ta voix. Athene est libre en depit dea barbares ; Athene est libre en d^pit de nos rois. Que I'univers, toujours instruit par elle, Retrouve encore Athenes dans Paris ! Bois dans ma coupe, 6 messager fidele ! Et dors en paix sur le sein de Noeris. Beau voyageur au pays des Hellenes, Repose-toi, puis vole a tes amours ; Vole, et bientot reports dans Athenes, Reviens braver et tyrans et vautours. A tant de rois, dont le trone chancelle, D'un peuple libre apporte encor les cris. Bois dans ma coupe, 6 messager fidele ! Et dors en paix sur le sein de Noeris. LA SYLPHIDE. La Raison a son ignorance; Son flambeau n'est pas toujours clair. Elle niait votre existence, Sylphes charmants, peuples de Pair; Mais, dcartant sa lourde egide Qui genait mon ceil curieux, J'ai vu naguere une Sylphide. Sylphes lagers, soyez mes dieux. THE SYLPHIDE. 145 Athens is free! to Greece fill, fill the cup! Noeris, behold ! new demi-gods spring up ! In vain would Europe, trembling in her age. Spoil these great elders of their heritage. They conquer still: to Athens, ever fair, To worship ruins none shall now repair. Drink of my cup ; then, safely sleeping, rest, O faithful messenger, on Nceris' breast! Athens is free ! let Pindar's Muse again With lyre and voice assert her ancient reign! Athens is free, in spite of barbarous foes ; Athens is free ; in vain our kings oppose. Aye to her lessons is the world inclined! In Paris yet an Athens may it find ! Drink of my cup ; then, safely sleeping, rest, O faithful messenger, on Noeris' breast ! Yes, beauteous traveller to Hellas' shore. Repose awhile, then seek thy loves once more : Away ! and soon, to Athens carried back. Vulture and tyrant brave upon thy track : And hastening thence, to many a trembling king On tottering throne, fresh shouts of Freedom bring ! Drink of my cup ; then, safely sleeping, rest, O faithful messenger, on Noeris' breast! THE SYLPHIDE Reason is not ever in the right; Reason's torch is not for ever bright : She that you were fables did declare. Charming Sylphs, inhabitants of air! But, her heavy aegis throwing by — 111 it suited with my curious eye — A Sylphide I lately chanced to see: Airy Sylphs ! my guardian angels be ! 146 LA SYI.PHIDE. Oui, vous naissez au sein des roses, Fils de I'Aurore et des Zephyrs ; Vos brillantes nietamorphoses Sont le secret de nos plaisirs. D'un souffle vous sechez nos larmes; Vous epurez I'azur des cieux : J'en crois ma Sylphide et ses charmes. Sylphes legers, soyez mes dieux. J'ai devind son origine, Lorsqu'au bal, ou dans un banquet, J'ai Yu sa parure enfantine Plaire par ce qui lui manquait. Ruban perdu, boucle defaite; EUe etait bien, la voila mieux ; C'est de vos sosurs la plus parfaite. Sylphes lagers, soyez mes dieux. Que de grace en elle font naitre Vos caprices toujours si doux ! C'est un enfant gate peut-etre, Mais im enfant gate par vous. J'ai vu, sous im air de paresse, L'amour reveur peint dans ses yeux. Vous qui protegez la tendresse, Sylphes legers, soyez mes dieux. Mais son aimable enfantillage Cache un esprit aussi brillant Que tous les songes qu'au bel age Vous nous apportez en riant. Du sein de vives etincelles Son vol m'elevait jusqii'aux cieux: Vous dont elle empruntait les ailes, Sylphes legers, soyez mes dieux. Hdlas ! rapide me'te'ore, Trop vite elle a fui loin de nous. Doit-elle ni'apparaitre encore ? Quelque Sylphe est-il son e'poux? THE SYLPHIDE. 147 Yes, on breasts of roses were ye born. Children of the Zephyrs and the Morn : In your changes, brilliant without measure, Lies the secret of our varied pleasure. Breath of yours our flowing tears can dry ; Pure you make the azure of the sky ; This my Sylphide's charms have proved for me: Airy Sylphs! my guardian angels be! I her origin have rightly guessed, When at ball or banquet she was dressed, So that I her infantile attire Most, for what it wanted, would admire. Buckle loosened, ribbon out of place. To the graceful gave another grace; Of your sisterhood most perfect she : Airy Sylphs ! my guardian angels be ! Your capricious winning little ways, How in her new beauties do they raise! She, perchance, may be a spoiled child too; But, at least, the child is spoiled by you. I have looked, despite her listless air. In her eyes, and Love was dreaming there. Ye, who tenderness protect, yes, ye. Airy Sylphs ! my guardian angels be ! But her loveable and child-like air Hides a spirit, that may well compare. For its brilliance, with the dreams you bring, Ever smiling, to our life's gay spring. From the sparkles of a living light To the skies she bore me in her flight : Ye, who lent her your own wings so free. Airy Sylphs! my guardian angels be! Rapid meteor! alas! alas! Far from us too quickly did she pass. Shall I once more see her at my side? Doth some Sylph detain her as his bride? 148 LE TAIl.LEUR ET LA FEE. Non, comme rabeille elle est reine D'un empire myste'rieux ; Vers son trone un de vous m^entraiue. Sylphes lagers, soyez mes dieux. LE lAILLEUR ET LA FEE. CIIJINSON CHANTEE A MES AMIS LE 19 AOUT, JOUR ANNI- VERSAJRE DE MA NAISSAKCE, 1822. Dans ce Paris plein d'or et de misere. En Pan du Christ mil sept cent quatre vingt, Chez un tailleur, mon pauvre et vieux grand-pere, Moi nouveau-n^, sachez ce qui m'advint. Rien ne prddit la gloire d'un Orph^e A mon berceau, qui n'etait pas de fleurs : Mais mon grand-pere, accourant a mes pleurs, Me trouve un jour dans les bras d'une fee ; Et cette fe'e, avec de gais refrains, Calmait le cri de mes premiers chagrins. Le bon vieillard lui dit, I'ame inquiete: " A cet enfant quel destin est promis?" Elle re'pond : " Vois-Ie, sous ma baguette, Garjon d'auberge, imprimeur, et commis. Un coup de foudre ajoute a mes presages: Ton fils atteint va pirir consume ; Dieu le regarde, et I'oiseau ranimd Vole en chantant braver d'autres orages." Et puis la fi^e, avec de gais refrains, Calmait le cri de mes premiers chagrins. THE TAILOR AND THE FAIRY. 149 No; for like the Queen Bee's is the throne Of her empire, mystic and unknown : Thither, borne by one of you, I flee; Airy Sylphs ! my^uardian angels be ! THE TAILOK AND THE FAIRY. SONG SUNG TO MV FBIESTBS OS THE I9TH OF AUGUST, 1822. THE AKNITERSART OF MY BIKTH-DAY. Bfiranger's grandfather was a tailor; and the Fairy's predictions in the second stanza are hut allusions to actual incidents of his life. In this Paris, in seventeen hundred and eighty. Here, where want is so rife, and where gold is so weighty. At a tailor's, my grandfather old and forlorn. You must know what occurred to me, then newly born. In my cradle with flowers unadorned, not a sign Could announce that an Orpheus' fame should be mine: But my grandfather, hastening my tears to allay. In the arms of a Fairy surprised me one day. And this Fairy was singing her gayest of airs. As she hushed up the cry of my earliest cares. So the good old man says to her, anxious in mind, " For this infant, I pray you, what fate is designed?" " With my wand," she replies, " I his destiny mark; He shall serve at an inn, be a printer, a clerk ; And I add to my presage a thunderbolt hurled On thy son, that should hurry him out of the world ; But God sees and restores him ; and forth the bird flies. With a song to brave tempests beneath other skies." And the Fairy was singing her gayest of airs. As she hushed up the cry of my earliest cares. o2 150 LE TAILLEUR ET LA FEE. " T0U8 les plaisirs, sylplies de la jeunesse, Eveilleront sa lyre au sein des nuits. Au toit du pauvre il repand I'allegresse ; A I'opulence il sauve des ennuis. Mais quel spectacle attriste son langage ? Tout s'engloutit, et gloire et liberte; Comme un pecheur qui rentre epouvantd, II vient au port raconter leur naufrage." Et puis la fee, avec de gais refrains, Calmait le cri de mes premiers chagrins. Le vieux tailleur s'dcrie : " Eh quoi ! ma fille Ne m'a donnd qu'un faiseur de chansons ! Mieux jour et nuit vaudrait tenir I'aiguille Que, faible ^cho, mourir en de vains sons." " Va," dit la fde, " a tort tu t'en alarm es ; De grands talents ont de moins beaux succes. Ses chants lagers seront chers aux Fran9ais, Et du proscrit adouciront les larmes." Et puis la f^e, avec de gais refrains, Calmait le cri de mes premiers chagrins. Amis, hier j'dtais faible et morose, L'aimable fee apparait a mes yeux. Ses doigts distraits effeuillent une rose ; Elle me dit : " Tu te vols deja vieux. Tel qu'aux deserts parfois brille un mirage, Aux coeurs vieillis s'offre un doux souvenir. Pour te feter tes amis vont s'unir: Long-temps pres d'eux revis dans un autre age." Et puis la fde, avec ses gais refrains, Comme autrefois dissipa mes chagrins. THE TAILOR AND THE FAIRY. 151 " All the Pleasures, those Sylphs in whom youth takes delight. Shall awaken his lyre in the bosom of night : In the cot of the poor he shall bid them be gay. From the palace of wealth driving ennui away. But his language is sad ! what sad cause can there be ? Glory, Liberty, all, swallowed up shall he see ; Then return into port to recount there the tale Of that wreck, like some fisherman scared by the gale." And the Fairy was singing her gayest of airs. As she hushed up the cry of my earliest cEires. " What ! have I," the old tailor exclaims with a groan, " From my daughter received a song-maker alone? Better daily and nightly the needle to ply. Than amidst empty sounds, feeble echo, to die!" " Thou art wrong," cries the Fairy, " such fears to ex- press ; Splendid talents achieve not so fair a success : For his light-hearted songs shall to Frenchmen be dear. Serving oft the regrets of the exile to cheer!" And the Fairy was singing her gayest of airs. As she hushed up the cry of my earliest cares. I was yesterday weak and morose, O my friends ! When, behold! the kind Fairy her look on me bends: And she carelessly pulls off the leaves of a rose. As she cries, " How, already, old age on thee grows! But at times the mirage in the desert appears; And just 80 in old hearts gleam the joys of old years : Now to honour thy fete thy good friends are in train — Go, with them live another age over again !" And the Fairy then sang me her gayest of airs. Chasing off, as of yore, all my troublesome cares. 152 L'AMITIE. COtlPtETS CHANTKS A MES AMIS LE 8 DEC. 1822, JODR ANNlVJiR- SAIRE DE MA CONDAMNATIOK PAR LA COUR d'aSSISES. Suu des roses T' Amour sommeiile; Mais, quand s'obscurcit rhorizon, Celebrons I'Amitid qui veille A la porte d'une prison. Tyran aussi rAmour nous eoute Des pleurs, qu'elle sait arreter. Au poids de nos fers il ajoute, EUe nous aide a les porter. Sur des roses I'Aniour sommeiile; Mais, quand s'obscurcit I'horizon, Celebrons I'Amitie qui veille A la porte d'une prison. Dans I'une de nos cent bastilles Lorsque ma Muse emm^nagea, A peine on refermait les grilles Que I'Amitie frappait deja. Sur des roses I'Amour sommeiile ; Mais, quand s'obscurcit I'horizon, Cdldbrons I'Amitid qui veille A la porte d'une prison. Heureux qui, libre de ses chaines, Bravant la haine et la pitid. Joint aa souvenir de ses peines Celui des soins de I'Amitie'. Sur des roses I'Amour sommeiile; Mais, quand s'obscurcit I'horizon, Celebrons I'Amitid qui veille A la porte d'une prison. 153 FRIENDSHIP. VERSES SUNG TO MY FRIENDS 8TH DEC. 1822, THE ANNIVER- SARY OF MY CONDEMNATION BY THE COURT OF ASSIZES. On beds of roses Love reposes ; But when dark clouds hang round, Sing we to Friendship, who on watch At prison-doors is found. A tyrant too. Love costs us tears, That Friendship's aid restrains : He makes more heavy, she more light. The burden of our chains. On beds of roses Love reposes; But when dark clouds hang round. Sing we to Friendship, who on watch At prison-doors is found. Bastilles we have, a hundredfold ; My Muse in one was locked; But scarcely had they drawn the bolts. When Friendship gently knocked. On beds of roses Love reposes; But when dark clouds hang round. Sing we to Friendship, who on watch At prison-doors is found. Ah ! blest, who from his fetters freed Can hate and pity dare ; And to remembrance of his pains Add that of Friendship's care ! On beds of roses Love reposes; But when dark clouds hang round. Sing we to Friendship, who on watch At prison-doors is found. 154 MA NACELLE. Que fait la gloire a qui suceombe? Amis, renonfons a briller; Donnons lea marbres d'une tombe Pour les plumes d'un oreiller. Sur des roses P Amour sommeille ; Mais, quand s'obscurcit I'horizon, Celebrons I'Amiti^ qui veille A la porte d'une prison. Sans bruit, ensemble, 6 vous que j'aime ! Trompoiis Ics hivers meurtriers. On jieut braver le Temps Uii-meme, Quand on a brave les geolieis. Sur des roses I'Amour sommeille ; Mais, quand s'obscurcit 1 'horizon, Cde'brons I'Amitie qui veille A la porte d'une prison. MA NACELLE. CHANSON CHANTEE A MES AMIS REUNIS POUK MA FETE. Suu une onde tranquille Voguant soir et matin, Ma nacelle est docile Au souffle du destin. La voile s'enfle-t-elle, J'abandonne le bord. Eh ! vogue ma nacelle, (O doux Zephyr! sois-moi fidele), Eh ! vogue ma nacelle, Nous trouverons un port. MY I.ITTI.E BOAT. 1').) What can Fame do for him who falls ? Friends, strive no more for show ; But let the price of marble tombs To stuff our pillows go ! On beds of roses Love reposes ; But when dark clouds hang round. Sing we to Friendship, who on watch At prison-doors is found. Together, without noise, loved friends. The winters let us cheat: He, who has jailers dared, may dare Old Time himself to meet. On beds of roses Love reposes; But when dark clouds hang round. Sing we to Friendship, who on watch At prison-doors is found. MY LITTLE BOAT. SONG gUNO TO MT FRIENDS ASSEMBLED FOR MY FKTE. Over the tranquil seas Floating at eve and mom, Wherever Fate inclines the breeze My bark is borne. Doth the sail to it expand ? Off, away, I quit the strand. Then onward float, my little boat ; Soft Zephyr, still be kind ! Ay, onward float, my little boat; A port we'll find. 156 MA NACELLE. J'ai pris pour passagere La muse des chansons, Et ma course Idgere S'^gaie a ses doux sons. La folatre pucelle Chante sur chaque bord. Eh ! vogue ma nacelle, (O doux Ze'phyr! sois-moi fidele), Eh ! vogue ma nacelle, Nous trouverons un port. Lorsqu'au sein de I'orage Cent foudres a la fois, Ebranlant ce rivage Epouvantent les rois, Le plaisir, qui m'appelle, M'attend sur I'autre bord. Eh ! vogue ma nacelle, (0 doux Zephyr! sois-moi fidele). Eh ! vogue ma nacelle, Nous trouverons un port. Loin de la le ciel change: Un soleil ^clatant Vient murir la vendange Que le buveur attend. D'une liqueur nouvelle Lestons-nous sur ce bord. Eh ! vogue ma nacelle, (O doux Ze'phyr! sois-moi fidele). Eh ! vogue ma nacelle. Nous trouverons un port. Des rives bien connues M'appellent a leur tour. Les Graces demi-nues Y cdebrent Tamour. Dieux! j'entends la plus belle Soupirer sur le bord. MY MTTLF, BOAT. 157 As passenger I've taken The lively Muse of Song; Gray notes doth she for us awaken. Gliding along ; For the wanton maid at hand Hath a lay for every strand. Then onward float, my little boat; Soft Zephyr, still be kind ! Ay, onward float, my little boat ; A port we'll find. Amid the storm's career. When hundred bolts are falling. And when the shores are trembling here, Monarchs appalling; Pleasure calling me doth stand Waiting on the other strand. Then onward float, my little boat; Soft Zephyr, still be kind! Ay, onward float, my little boat ; A port we'll find. The sky is changed, and lo ! A far-off sun's bright beam Ripens the vintage/ that chalfe glow In toper's dream. Let the new wine of that land Be our ballast from its strand. Then onward float, my little boat; Soft Zephyr, still be kind! Ay, onward float, my little boat ; A port we'll find. A shore all widely known Now in its turn invites ; And there the half-draped Graces own Love's sacred rites. Hark ! the fUirest of the band Sighs on the borders of that strand. 158 ADIEUX A DFS AMIS. Eh I vogue ma n.acelle, (O doiix Zephyr! sois-moi fidele), Eh ! vogue ma nacelle, Nous trouverons un port. Mais, loin du roc perfide Qui produit le laurier, Quel astre heureux me guide Vers un humble foyer? L'amitid renouvelle Ma fete sur ce bord. Eh ! vogue ma nacelle, (() doux Zdphyr! sois-moi fidele), Eh ! vogue ma nacelle. Nous trouverons un port. ADIEUX A DES AMIS. D'lci faut-il que je parte, Mes amis, quand loin de vous Je ne puis voir sur la carte D'asile pour moi plus doux ! Meme au sein de notre ivresse, Dieu ! je crois etre a demain : Fouette, cocher! dit la Sagesse; Et me voila sur le chemin. Malgrd les sermons du sage, On pourrait, grace aux plaisirs, Aux fatigues du voyage Opposer d'heureux loisirs. Mais une ardeur importune En route met chaque humain : Fouette, cocher! dit la Fortune; Et nous voilk sur le chemin. FAREWKLL TO FlllENDS. Then onward float, my little boat; Soft Zephyr, still be kind ! Ay, onward float, my little boat ; A port we'll tind. But through what favouring star, To reach this sheltered spot. From treacherous rock of laurels far. Hath been my lot ? 'Tis my tete, by Friendship planned, Here again upon this strand. Then onward float, my little boat; Soft Zephyr, still be kind ! Ay, onward float, my little boat; A port we'll find. 159 FAREWELL TO FRIENDS. I TO this spot must bid adieu. Good friends ; yet when far ofl^ from you. No resting-place for me more sweet Marked down upon my route I greet. Even now amidst our jovial cheer, O Heaven ! I think to-morrow's here ! " Whip, coachman, whip," doth Wisdom say; And look ye, I am on my way! Despite the sermons sages preach. One might, with pleasures in one's reach. Oppose to travel's wearying round The leisure that with joy is crowned ; But there's a restless ardour glowing. That sets each human creature going. " Whip, coachman, whip," doth Fortune say; And look ye, we are on our way ! 160 LE MALADE. Ne va point voir ta maitresse, Ne va point au cabaret, Me vient dire avec iiidesse Un medecin indiscret; Mais Lisette est si jolie ! Mais si doux est le bon vin ! Fouette, coeher ! dit la Folic; Et me voila sur le chemin. Parmi vous bientot peut-etre Je chanterai mon retour. Ddja je crois voir renaitre L'aurore d'un si beau jour: L'All^gresse, que j^encense, A mon paquet met la main. Fouette, eocher! dit PEsp^rance; Et me voila sur le chemin. LE MALADE. AvRiL, 1823. Un mal cuisant dechire ma poitrine. Ma faible voix sMteint dans les douleurs; Et tout renait, et d^ja I'aubdpine A vu I'abeille accourir a ses fleurs. Dieu d'un sourire a b^ni la nature ; Dans leur splendeur les cieux vont ^clater. Reviens, ma voix, faible, mais douce et pure : II est encor de beaux jours a chanter. Mon Esculape a renversd mon verre : Plus de gait^ ! mon front se rembrunit; Mais vient I'Amour, et le mois qu'il prefere : Ddja Toiseau butine pour son nid. THE INVALID. 161 " Go not to see thy mistress fair. Nor to thy tavern-haunts repair;" A doctor, not the most discreet, Such ill-timed counsels will repeat: But in Lisette such charms I meet; And good wine is so passing sweet — " Whip, coachman, whip," doth Folly say ; And look ye, I am on my way ! Perchance on my return, ere long, I'll sing you here another song. Before me seems even now to dawn Of that glad day the auspicious morn; And Joy, who doth my praises wake, With ready hand my pack would take. " Whip, coachman, whip," Hope now doth say; And look ye, I am on my way ! THE INVALID. April, 1823. Sharp is the pain that racks my aching breast ; My feeble voice in anguish is represt : Yet all revives ; already doth the bee Haste to the flowers that deck the hawthorn-tree. God with his smile hath nature kindly blessed; Soon in their splendour will the heavens be dressed. Come back, my voice, aye soft and pure, though weak ; There are some bright days still, of which my song should speak ! My Esculapius hath o'erturned my glass : Joy is no more ! my brow is dark, alas ! Yet now Love comes ; and comes the month preferred By Love — now pilfers for her nest the bird : p2 162 LE MALADE. Des voluptes le torrent va s'dpandre Sur I'univers qui semblait vdgeter. Revieiis, ma voix, faible, mais toujours tendref II est encor des plaisirs a chanter. Pour mon pays que de chansons encore ! D'un lache oubli vengeons les trois couleurs ; De nouveaux noms la France se de'core ; A I'aigle ^teint nous redevons des pleurs. Que de pdrils la tribune orageuse OfFre aux vertus qui I'osent affronter ! Reviens, ma voix, faible, mais courageuse : II est encor des gloires a chanter. Puis j-entrevois la libertd bannie ; EUe revient : despotes, a genoux ! Pour I'dtouffer en vain la tyrannic Fait signe au Nord de ddborder sur nous. L'ours effrayd regagne sa taniere. Loin du soleil qu'il voulait disputer. Reviens, ma voix, faible, mais libre et fiere : II est encore un triomphe a chanter. Que dis-je? hdas ! oui, la terre s'dveille, Belle et paree, au souffle du printemps. Mais dans nos coeurs le courage sommeille ; Chargd de fers, chacun se dit : J 'attends ! La Grece expire, et I'Europe est tremblante ; Seuls, nos pleurs seuls osent se r^volter. Reviens, ma voix, faible, mais consolante : II est encor des martyrs a chanter. THE INVALID. 163 And through the Universe, that teeming grows. The stream of life voluptuously flows. Come back, my voice, tender for aye, though weak ; There are some pleasures still, of which my song should speak ! What songs my country asks ! let us, in shame, Avenge the Tricolor's forgotten fame. With unknown names France decks herself anew; To the dead eagle still our tears are due. The stormy tribune too ! what dangers there Await the virtues, that to tempt it dare ! Come back, my voice, courageous, though thou'rt weak ; There are some glories still, of which my song should speak ! Freedom proscribed mine eye prophetic sees ; Again she comes — down, despots, to your knees ! To stifle her would Tyranny in vain Invoke the North on us to fall again : Home to his den retreats the frighted bear. Far from the sun, whose beams he longed to share. Come back, my voice, aye free and proud, though weak ; There is a triumph still, of which my song should speak ! Alas ! what say I ." yes, the Earth awakes. Fair and adorned, as Spring upon us breaks ; But in our hearts our courage slumbering lies ; " I bide the time," each fettered victim cries. Whilst Greece expires, and trembling Europe fears, None dare revolt, except alone our tears ! Come back, my voice, consoling, though thou'rt weak ; There are some martyrs still, of whom my song should " t 161 LE XOURNEBROCHE. Du diner j'aime fort la cloche, Mais on la sonne en peu d'endroits ; Plus qu'elle aussi le tournebroche A nos hommages a des droits. Combien d'ennemis il rapproche Chez le prince et chez le bourgeois ! A son doux tic tac un jonr les partis Signeront la paix entre deux rotis. Q,u'on reprenne sur la musique Les querelles du temps pass6 ; Que par PAmphion italique Le grand Mozart soit terrassd ; Je ne tiens qu'au refrain bachique Par le tournebroche annoncd. A son doux tic tac un jour les partis Signeront la paix entre deux rotis. Lorsque la Fortune a sa roue Attache mille ambitieux, Les precipite dans la boue Ou les e'leve jusqu'aux cieux, C'est la broche, moi je Tavoue, Dont la roue attire mes yeux. A son doux tic tac un jour les partis Signeront la paix entre deux rotis. Une montre, admirable ouvrage, Des heures ddcrivant le cours. Regie, sans en charmer I'usage, Le cercle bornd de nos jours ; Le tournebroche a I'avantage D'embellir des instants trop courts. A son doux tic tac un jour les partis Signeront la paix entre deux rotis. 165 THE JACK. Dearlv I love the dinner-bell, although Few places hear it ring ; But reasons much more cogent one may show. Why we the jack should sing : At house of prince or cit, how many a foe Together doth it bring ! To its soft tic-tac the contracting hosts Shall sign, some day, a peace, between two roasts. Let these, like by-gone days, in feuds be rich Concerning Music's art ; Let Italy's Amphion from his niche Pull down the great Mozart; Give me the jovial strain, in sign of which The jack can play its part ! To its soft tic-tac the contracting hosts Shall sign, some day, a peace, between two roasts. Whilst the ambitious to her rolling wheel I'ortune by thousands ties ; In the mud plunges them, head over heel. Or whirls them to the skies ; It is the spit, this truth I can't conceal. Whose wheel attracts mine eyes ! To its soft tic-tac the contracting hosts Shall sign, some day, a peace, between two roasts. A watch, describing with most wondrous skill The course our hours pursue. Rules the small circle of our days ; but still. It fails to charm them too. The jack does better — well the jack can fill Moments, alas, too few ! To its soft tic-tac the contracting hosts Shall sign, some day, a peace, between two roasts. 166 LE CACHET. Ce meiible, suivant maiiit vieux conte, A manque seul a Page d'or; C'est I'amitie qui, pour son compte, Dut en inventer le ressort. Vivent ceux que sa main remonte ! Mais gloire a celui du tresor ! A son doux tic tac un jour les partis Signeront la paix entre deux rotis. LK CACHET; I.£TIR£ A SOPHIE. Il vient de toi ce cachet oii le lierre Serpente en or, symbole ing^nieux ; Cachet ou I'art a gravd sur la pierre Un jeune Amour au doigt myst^rieux. II est sacre : mais en vain, ma Sophie, A ton amant il ofFre son secours ; De son pouvoir ma plume se defie. Plus de secret, meme pour les amours ! Pourquoi, dis-tu, si loin de ton amie, Quand une lettre adoucit ses regrets, Pourquoi penser qu'une main ennemie Brise le dieu qui scelle nos secrets ? THE SEAL. 167 Of jacks alone the golden age had need. We from old tales opine : For her own use 'twas Friendship then, indeed. That did their spring design ; Hail, those wound up by her ! though glory's meed. Oh, Treasury-jack, be thine ! To its soft tic-tac the contracting hosts Shall sign, some day, a peace, between two roasts. THE SEAL; OR, K LETTER TO SOPHY. 1824. It must be borne in mind that the inquisitorial government of Venice was the first that organised a police ; and tliat the establishment of the Black Cabinet in the French post-office, wiierein the secrecy of letters was so often violated, dates from the reign of Louis XIV. His successor, at times, amused himself with the scandalous gossip, which was thus extracted from private correspondence. After the Revolution of July, the Black Cabinet wa-s suppressed. From thee it comes, this seal, where I behold. Ingenious symbol, ivy twined in gold : Seal, where on stone the graver's art portrayed Young Love, whose finger on his lip is laid. He's sacred, Sophy ; but in vain he stands Offering his succour to thy lover's hands. Scarce will my pen that he has power allow : For Love himself there are no secrets now ! Askest thou why, so far from one so dear. When letters might her pining spirits cheer — Why I should think some hostile hand will dare Profane the god, who seals our secrets there ? 168 LE CACHET. Je ne crains point qu'un jaloux en delire. Jamais, Sophie, a ce crime ait recours. Ce que je crains, je tremble de I'^crire. Plus de secret, meme pour les amours ! II est, Sophie, un monstre a I'oeil perfide. Qui de Venise ensanglanta les lois : II tend la main au salaire homicide, Souffle la peur dans I'oreille des rois : II veut tout voir, tout entendre, tout lire ; Cherche le mal et I'invente toujours ; D'un sceau fragile il amoUit la cire. Plus de secret, meme pour les amours ! Ces mots traces pour toi seule, 6 Sophie ! Son ceil afFreux avant toi les lira. Ce qu'au papier ma tendresse confie Ira grossir un complot qu'il vendra. Ou bien, dit-il, de ce couple qui s'aime Livrons la vie au sarcasme des cours, Et d^ridons Tennui du diademe. Plus de secret, meme pour les amours ! Saisi d'efFroi, je repousse la plume Qui de I'absence efit charme la douleur. Pour le cachet la cire en vain s'allume. On le rompra ; j'aurai fait ton malheur. Par le grand roi, qui trahit La Valliere, Ce lache abus fut transmis a nos jours. Cceurs amoureux, maudissez sa poussiere. Plus de secret, meme pour les amours ! 169 I fear not, lest, to jealousy a prey. Some madman, Sophy, might such crime essay; What I do fear I tremble to avow : For Love himself there are no secrets now ! A monster, Sophy, of perfidious eye. Stained Venice' laws, of old, with crimson dye : It clutches still its homicidal pay; Still into kingly ears it breathes dismay. All will it see, all hear, and all will read ; Searches for evil, or invents at need. Of brittle seals the wax it melts — I trow. For Love himself there are no secrets now ! These words, O Sophy, traced for thee alone. Its prying eye shall read, before thine own ; What here in tender confidence I tell It will pervert, some venal plot to swell ; Or it may say, " For our sarcastic court This loving couple's life will furnish sport; And help to smooth the cro^vned and weary brow." For Love himself there are no secrets now ! I throw aside my pen, seized with alarm; Thy grief, in absence, it had served to charm. The wax is lighted for the seal in vain — The seal they '11 break — I shall have caused thee pain. That great king, who La Valliere could betray. This foul abuse transmitted to our day : Curse ye his dust, who breathe the lover's vow ! For Love himself there are no secrets now ! 170 LE POETE DE COUR. COUPLETS POUR LA PETE DE MARIE ***. On achete Lyre et musette ; Comme tant d'autres, a mon tour, Je me fais poete de cour. Te chanter encore, 6 Marie ! Non, vraiment je ne I'ose pas. Ma muse enfin s'est aguerrie, Et vers la cour toume ses pas. Je gage, s'il nait un Voltaire, Qu'on emprunte pour I'acheter : Pret a me vendre au ministere. Pour toi je ne puis plus chanter. On achete Lyre et musette; Comme tant d'autres, a mon tour, Je me fais poete de cour. Ce que je dirais pour te plaire Ferait rire ailleurs de pitid : L'amour est notre moindre affaire, Les grands ont banni Tamiti^. On siffle le patriotisme ; Ce qu'on sait le mieux, c'est compter : J'adresse une ode a I'dgo'isme. Pour toi je ne puis plus chanter. On achete Lyre et musette ; Comme tant d'autres, a mon tour, •le me fais poete de cour. 171 THE POET-LAUREATE. VERSKS FOR THE FETE OF MAKY ***. They purchase pipe and lyre ! Full time 'tis, then, for me. Like others, to aspire Court- Laureate to be. What ! to thee, Mary, tune a song again ? No, no, in truth I may not dare obey : My Muse is nerved to try a bolder strain. And towards the Court at length she wings her way. I'll wager they would raise a loan to buy A new Voltaire, if one to life should spring ; Ready for sale to Government am I : Mary, for thee no longer can I sing. They purchase pii)e and lyre ! Full time 'tis, then, for me, Like others, to aspire Court- Laureate to be. If I should speak to please thy simple ear. Some folks would smile, in pity for our state ; Love now-a-days hath little business here ; Friendship herself is banished by the great. All patriotic notions now are hissed ; To reckon readily 's the only thing : An ode I'm writing to an egotist : Mary, for thee no longer can I sing. They purchase pipe and lyre ! Full time 'tis, then, for me, Like others, to aspire Court-Laureate to be. 172 LE POETE DE COUR. Je crains que ta voix ne m'inspire L'eloge des Grecs valeureux, Contre qui I'Europe conspire Pour ne plus rougir devant eux. En vain ton ame gendreuse De leurs maux se laisse attrister; Moi je chante I'Espagne heureuse. Pour toi je ne puis plus chanter. On achate Lyre et musette ; Comme tant d'autres, a mon tour, Je me fais poete de cour. Dans mes calculs, Dieu ! quel ddboire Si de ton h^ros je parlais ! II nous a l^gue tant de gloire Qu'on est embarrasse' du legs. Lorsque ta main pare son buste De lauriers qu'on doit respecter, J'encense une personne auguste. Pour toi je ne puis plus chanter. On achete Lyre et musette ; Comme tant d'autres, a mon tour, Je me fais poete de cour. Pourquoi douter, chere Marie, Que ton ami change a ce point ? Liberie, gloire, honneur, patrie, Sont des mots qu'on n'escompte point. Des chants pour toi sont la satire Des grands que j'apprends a flatter. Non, quoi que mon creur veuille dire. Pour toi je ne puis plus chanter. On achete Lyre et musette ; Comme tant d'autres, a mon tour, Je me fais poete de cour. THK POEX-LAUUEATE. l73 Moved by thy voice, I fear lest from my lips Praise of the gallant Greeks should haply gush. Whom Europe now is leaguing to eclipse. Lest before them she still be forced to blush. Thy generous soul must sympathise in vain; In vain their sorrows must thy feelings wring : I greet in song the happy land of Spain : Mary, for thee no longer can I sing. They purchase pipe and lyre ! Full time 'tis, then, for me. Like others, to aspire Court- Laureate to be. But, Heavens ! how would my calculations fail, If in my words thy hero they should see : He left us glory on so vast a scale. We are embarrassed by the legacy. Whilst thy fond hand, to decorate his bust, Laurels all worthy of respect doth bring, I serve with praise a person most august : Mary, for thee no longer can I sing. They purchase pipe and lyre ! Full time 'tis, then, for me. Like others, to aspire Court- Laureate to be. Thy doubts, dear Mary, tell jne whence they came. That thus to change mBlk%e0m thy lover's lot ? Country and honour, liberty and fame. Are merely words, and men discount them not. To offer flattery to the great I'm learning. And songs for thee on them might satire fling; No, no, where'er my heart would fain be turning, Mary, for thee no longer can I sing. They purchase pipe and lyre ! Full time 'tis, then, for me, Like others, to aspire Court- Laureate to bo. q2 174 L'ANNIVERSAIRE. Depuis un an vous etes nde, Heloise, le savez-vous ? C'est la votre plus belle ann^e, Mais I'avenir vous sera doux. Voici des fleurs que I'on vous donne; Parez-vous-en, et, s'il vous plait, Charmante avec cette couronne, N'allez point en faire un hochet. Un enfant qui ne vieillit guere, Sachant qui vous donna le jour, Devine que vous saurez plaire ; Vous le connaitrez, c'est I'Amour, Redoutez-le pour mille causes, Bien qu'il vous soit frere de lait; Car de votre chapeau de roses II voudra se faire un hochet. L'Espdrance, aux ailes brillantes, Sur vous se plait a voltiger : De combien de formes riantes Vous dote son prisme le'ger ! A ses doux songes asservie, Vous serez heureuse en effet, Si pour chaque age de la vie EUe vous reserve un hochet. 175 THE BIRTHDAY. My little He'loise, d'ye know That you were bom one year ago ? The past hath been your blithest year. Though smiles your future life shall cheer. See ! they have brought you garlands gay ; Do put them on, and let me pray. Since you look charming in this crown, ¥ or plaything you'll not pull it down. A child, who old can scarcely grow. Knowing to whom your birth you owe, Predicts that you to please will learn — 'Tis Love — you'll know him in your tixm ! Him for a thousand reasons flee. Your foster-brother though he be ; Your rose-trimmed bonnet he would take, A plaything for himself to make. Hope, with her brilliant wings outspread, Is gaily fluttering o'er your head ! With }ier prismatic tints endowed. What smiling forms around you crowd ! Yes, to her gentle dreams resigned, Joys in abundance shall you find, If for each age, till all is o'er. Some plaything still she keep in store. 176 LE VOYAGE IMAGINAIRE. 1824. L'AuTOMNE aceourt, et sur son aile humide M'apporte encor de noiivelles douleurs. Toujours soufFrant, toujours pauvre et titnide, De ma gaite' je vols palir les fleurs. Arrachez-moi des fanges de Lutece; Sous im beau ciel mes yeux devaient s'ouvrir. Tout jeune aussi, je revais a la Grece; C'est la, c'est la, que je voudrais mourir. En vain faut-il qu'on nie traduise Homere, Oui, je fus Grec ; Pythagore a raison. Sous Pericles j'eus Athenes pour mere; Je visitai Socrate en sa prison. De Phidias j'encensai les merveilles; De rilissus j'ai vu les bords fleurir; J'ai sur I'Hyniete dveille les abeilles ; C'est la, c'est la, que je voudrais mourir. Dieux ! qu'un seul jour, dblouissant ma vue, Ce beau soleil me rechauffe le ccEur ! La Liberte, que de loin je salue. Me crie: Accours, Thrasybule est vainqueur. Partons ! partons ! la barque est pre'par^e. Mer, en ton sein garde-moi de pe'rir. Laisse ma Muse aborder au Pir^e; C'est 1^, c'est la, que je voudrais mourir. II est bien doux le ciel de I'ltalie, Mais I'esclavage en obscurcit I'azur. Vogue plus loin, nocher, je t'en supplie; Vogue oa la-bas renait un jour si pur. Quels sont ces flots? quel est ce roc sauvage? Quel sol brillant a mes yeux vient s'offrir? La tyrannie expire sur la plage ; C'est la, c'est I^, que je voudrais mourir. 177 THE IMAGINARY VOYAGE. Ox humid wings the Autumn hastening near Dooms me again fresh suffering to bewail : Victim of poverty, and pain, and fear, I see the blossoms of my joy turn pale. Snatch me, oh, snatch me from Lutetia's slime ! Fain would mine eyes behold a brighter sky : I dreamed of Greece whilst yet in boyhood's prime; ' Tis there, 'tis there, that I would wish to die. 'Tis vain — no more translate me Homer's lays — I was a Greek — Pythagoras spake well — At Athens bom, in Pericles' proud days, I stood by Socrates within his cell ; I praised the marvels Phidias' hand supplied; Ilissus' flowering borders charmed mine eye; I woke the bees upon Hymettus' side; 'Tis there, 'tis there, that I would wish to die. Dazzle my sight, ye Gods, one single day. And warm my heart with that unclouded sun ! Freedom, far off, I hail; and hear her say, " Haste, Thrasybulus has the victory won." Away ! the bark prepares her sail to bend ; Safe o'er thy bosom, Ocean, let me fly ! At the Piraeus let my Muse descend ! 'Tis there, 'tis there, that I would wish to die. Soft are the skies that Italy can show; Alas, that slavery taints their azure hue! Then onward, pilot, prithee, onward go, Where morning dawns so brightly on the view ! Those waves, what are they? what that rock-bound land? What brilliant soil, that yonder I descry? Lo, tyranny expires upon the strand ! 'Tis there, 'tis there, that I would wish to die. 178 LAFAYETTE EN AMERKiUE. Daignez au port accueillir un barbare, Vierges d'Athene; encouragez ma voix. Pour vos climats je quitte un ciel avare. Oil le genie est Tesclave des rois. Sauvez ma lyre, elle est persecutee; Et, si mes chants pouvaient vous attendrir, Melez ma cendre aux cendres de Tyrt^e : Sous ce beau ciel je suis venu mourir. LAFAYETTE EN AMERIQUE. Republicains, quel cortege s'avance ? — Un vieux guerrier d^arque parmi nous. — Vient-il d'un roi vous jurer I'alliance? — II a des rois allum^ le courroux. — Est-il puissant? — Seul il franchit les ondes. — Qu'a-t-il done fait?- II a brise' des fers. Gloire immortelle a I'homme des deux mondes ! Jours de triomphe, e'clairez I'univers! Europ^en, partout sur ce rivage. Qui retentit de joyeuses clameurs, Tu vols r^gner, sans trouble et sans servage, La paix, les lois, le travail, et les moeurs. Des opprim^s ces bords sont le refuge: La tyrannie a peupl^ nos deserts. L'homme et ses droits ont ici Dieu pour juge. Jours de triomphe, ^clairez runivers! Mais que de sang nous couta ce bien-etre ! Nous succombions ; Lafayette accourut, Montra la France, eut Washington pour maitre, Lutta, vainquit, et I'Anglais disparut. LAFAYETTE IN AMERICA. 1 79 A rude barbarian at your port receive, Virgins of Athens ! deign my voice to greet : For your fair clime, a niggard heaven I leave, Where Genius crouches at the monarch's feet. Oh, save my troubled lyre ! and if my song Can move your pity, let mine ashes lie Mixed with Tyrtaeus' ashes — for ere long. Beneath this genial sun, 'tis here 1 come to die. LAFAYETTE IN AMERICA. In the year 1824, Lafayette visited the United States, where he was received with an unbounded enthusiasm, and a grateful remembrance of his services in the cause of the American Re- volution. " What train, Republicans, advances there ?" " An aged warrior lands upon our shore." "Comes he some monarch's friendship to declare?" " Monarchs on him their deadly vengeance swore." " Hath he vast power?" " Alone he crossed the waves." " What hath he done?" "He hath enfranchised slaves." Man of two worlds! immortal fame be thine! O'er all the earth, O days of triumph, shine! " Thou seest, European, far and near Upon this strand, whence joyous shouts resound. Thou seest, free from pain or servile fear. Peace, Labour, Law, and Charities abound. Here the oppressed a refuge find from strife; Here tyrants bid our deserts teem with life. Man and his rights have here a Judge Divine." O'er all the earth, O days of triumph, shine! " But with what blood this happy state we won ! We tottered; Lafayette to aid us flew, Pointed to France, served under Washington, And conquering fought, till England's host withdrew. 180 LAFAYETTE EN AMERIQUE. Pour son pays, pour la liberty sainte, II a depuis grandi dans les revers. Des fers d'Olmutz nous effafons I'empreinte. Jours de triomphe, ^clairez Tunivers ! Ce vieil ami que tant divresse accueille, Par un h^ros ce he'ros adopte, Benit jadis, a sa premiere feuille, L'arbre naissant de notre liberte. Mais, aujourd'hui que l'arbre et son feuillage Bravent en paix la foudre et les hivers, II vient s'asseoir sous son fertile ombrage. Jours de triomphe, dclairez I'univers ! Autour de lui vois nos chefs, vols nos sages, Nos vieux soldats, se rappelant ses traits; Vois tout un peuple, et ces tribus sauvages, A son nom seul sortant de leurs forets. L'arbre sacr^ sur ce concours immense Forme un abri de rameaux toujours verts : Les vents au loin porteront sa semence. Jours de triomphe, eclairez I'univers! L'Europeen, que frappent ces paroles, Servit des rois, suivit des conqu^rants: Un peuple esclave encensait ces idoles; Un peuple libre a des honneurs plus grands. He'las dit-il, et son ceil sur les ondes Seinble chercher des bords lointains et chers: Que la vertu rapproche les deux mondes! Jours de triomphe, eclairez I'univers! LAFAYETTE IN AMERICA. 181 For sacred Freedom, for his native State, Amidst reverses he hath since grown great; Of Olmutz' fetters we efface the sign." O'er all the earth, O days of triumph, shine ! " This friend, whose welcome is thus warm and free. This hero, who a hero's choice hath been. Blessed the young sapling of our Liberty, In early days, whilst yet its leaves were green. But now the tree full-leaved and rooted fast. Braving in peace the lightning and the blast, He comes beneath its shadow to recline." O'er all the earth, O days of triumph, shine! " Mark, how our chiefs, our sages round him press ! Our veterans strive his features to recall ; Mark, a whole people ! and those tribes no less. Who at his name from their dark forests crawl. The sacred tree for this vast crowd hath made. With ever- verdant boughs, a grateful shade: Far shall the winds its goodly seed consign." O'er all the earth, O days of triumph, shine ! The European, whom these words amaze. Had bowed to kings, and swelled the conqueror's show ; Slaves to those idols offered hymns of praise; More lofty honours freemen can bestow ! " Alas !" he cries, and o'er the wave his eye Seems some dear land, far distant, to descry, " Both worlds may Virtue in her bonds entwine !" O'er all the earth, O days of triumph, shine ! 182 LES n£:gres et les marionnettes. SuR son navire un capitaine Transportait des noirs au marchd. L'ennui les tuait par vingtaine: Peste! dit-il; quel deljouch^! Fi, que c'est laid, sots que vous etes ! Mais j'ai de quoi vous guerir tous. Venez voir mes marionnettes : Bons esclaves, amusez-vous. Pour tromper leur douleur mortelle, Soudain un theatre est mont^; Soudain parait Polichinelle, Pour des noirs grande nouveaut^. D'abord ils ne savent qu'en dire, lis se regardent en dessous; Puis aux pleurs se mele un sourire : Bons esclaves, amusez-vous. Voila monsieur le commissaire; II s'attaque au roi des bossus. Qui, trouvant un exemple a faire, Vous I'assomme et souffle dessus. Oubliant tout, jusqu'a leurs chaines, Nos gens poussent des rires fous. L'homme est infidele a ses peines: Bons esclaves, amusez-vous. Le diable vient ; I'ange rebelle Leur plait surtout par sa couleur. II emporte Polichinelle; Autre accroc fait a la douleur. Cette fin charm e Tauditoire: Un noir a triomphe' pour tous. Les pauvres gens revent la gloire : Bons esclaves, amusez-vous. 183 THE NEGROES AND THE PUPPET-SHOW. A CAPTAIN was to market bound. With negroes in his ship ; They died of ennui, score by score ; " Pest," quoth he, " here's a slip ! Fie, lubbers, fie ! this is not fair; But I can cure you of your care. Come, come and see my puppets play ; Good slaves, amuse yourselves, I pray." Their mortal sorrows to beguile, A stage is rigged in view ; Punch, all at once, before them stands; For negroes something new. At first they know not what to think, But slily to each other wink: Then through their tears smiles force their way ; " Good slaves, amuse yourselves, I pray." Look how the constable will plague The hump-backed king before him ; Who, for example, knocks him down, And coolly then puffs o'er him. All they forget — nor chains can feel — Our friends laugh out in joyous peal. Man gladly casts his cares away; " Good slaves, amuse yourselves, I pray." The devil comes : well pleased, they note The rebel angel's hue; He bears off Punch; this puts their grief Still further out of view. A black triumphant at the close! What rapture this last scone bestows ! Poor souls, they dream of glory's ray ! " Good slaves, amuse yourselves, I pray." 184 LA BONNE VIEILLE. Ainsi, voguant vers I'Am^rique Ou s'aggraveront leurs destins, De leur humeur melancolique lis sont tirds par des pantins. Tout roi que la peur d^senivre Nous prodigue aussi les joujoux. N'allez pas vous lasser de vivre: Bons esclaves, amusez-vous. LA BONNE VIEILLE. Vous vieillerez, 6 ma belle maitresse ! Vous vieillerez, et je ne serai plus. Pour moi le temps semble, dans sa vitesse. Compter deux fois les jours que j'ai perdus. Survivez-moi; mais que I'age penible Vous trouve encor fidele a mes lefons; Et bonne vieille, au coin d'un feu paisible, De votre ami r^pdtez les chansons. Lorsque les yeux chercheront sous vos rides Les traits charmants, qui m'auront inspire, Des doux recits les jeunes gens avides Diront: Quel fut cet ami tant pleure? De mon amour peignez, s'il est possible, L'ardeur, I'ivresse, et meme les soupfons ; Et bonne vieille, au coin d'un feu paisible, De votre ami r^pe'tez les chansons. On vous dira: Savait-il etre aimable? Et sans rougir vous direz: Je I'aimais. D'un trait mdchant se montra-t-il capable.' Avec orgueil vous r^pondrez : Jamais. Ah ! dites bien qu'amoureux et sensible, D'un luth joyeux il attendrit les sons; THE GOOD OtD DAME. 185 Thus steering to the Western World, Where Fate will sterner frown, The bursting of despondent hearts By pujipets is kept down. Each king, whom fear hath sobered, thus A>'^ould playthings lavish upon us. Ah ! weary not of life's dull day ! " Good slaves, amuse yourselves, I pray." / THE GOOD OLD DAME. Thou, my fair mistress, wilt be growing old; Thou wilt grow old, and I shall be no more: Time seems for me, so swiftly hath he rolled. The days I've lost to reckon doubly o'er. Survive me, thou ! but let thine age of pain Still, still my lessons faithfully retain : And, good old dame, in chimney-corner seated, Still be thy lover's songs by thee repeated ! Beneath thy wrinkles when the eye wonid trace Charms, that to me could inspiration lend — Fond of soft tales, when some of youthful race Shall ask, " What was this much-regretted friend?" Paint thou my love, if thou canst paint it true. Ardent, nay maddened, nay even jealous too; And, good old dame, in chimney-corner seated. Still be thy lover's songs by thee repeated ! " Could he," they'll ask thee, " make himself beloved?' "/ loved him," thou without a blush wilt cry. " Could he by aught to baseness have been moved ?" " Never !" shall be thy proud and prompt reply. Ah ! say that he to love and feeling prone. Of joyous lute could softer make the tone; r2 186 LA GARDE NATIONALE. Et bonne vieille, au coin d'un feu paisible, De votre ami rep^tez les chansons. Vous que j'appris a pleurer sur la France, Dites surtout aux fils des nouveaux preux. Que j'ai chants la gloire et I'esperance Pour consoler mon pays malheureux. Rappelez-leur que I'aquilon terrible, De nos lauriers a detruit vingt moissons; Et bonne vieille, au coin d'un feu paisible, De votre ami r^pdtez les chansons. Objet chdri, quand mon renom futile De Yos vieux ans charmera les douleurs ; A mon portrait, quand votre main d^bile, Chaque printemps, suspendra quelques fleuis, Levez les yeux vers ce monde invisible. Oil pour toujours nous nous re'unissons; Et bonne vieille, au coin d'un feu paisible, De votre ami rdp^tez les chansons. LA GARDE NATIONALE, SUR SON LIC£NCI£M£NT PAR CHARLES X. Pour tout Paris quel outrage ! Amis, nous v'la licenci^s. Est-ce pare' que not' courage Brilla contre leurs allies ? C'est quelqu' noir projet qui perce. Morbleu ! pour nous preter s'cours, II faut qu' chacun d' nous s'exerce. Du mem' pied partons toujours. THE NATIONAL GUARD. 187 And, good old dame, in chimney-comer seated, Still be thy lover's songs by thee repeated ! Thou, whose warm tears I taught for France to stream, Let new-made heroes' sons fail not to hear That Hope and Glory were my chosen theme; That my sad country I with these would cheer. To them recall, how the dread north wind's might Did twenty harvests of our laurels blight ; And, good old dame, in chimney-comer seated, Still be thy lover's songs by thee repeated ! O cherished object! when my slight renown Shall charm away those griefs that age must bring; When thy weak hand my portrait still shall crown With the fresh flowers of each revolving spring ; Then lift thine eyes to the world we may not see. Where we for aye shall re-united be; And, good old dame, in chimney-comer seated. Still be thy lover's songs by thee repeated! THE NATIONAL GUARD, ON ITS BEING DISBANDED BY CHARLES X. It can scarcely be necessary to explain to the reader, that the ninety-two and eighty-seven, referred to in this song, are the years 1787 and 1792. During the former, the old Bourbon monarchy was still in power ; the latter is identified as one of the worst periods of revolutionary phrensy. Mont Rouge,men- tioned in the last stanza, was noted for its College of Jesuits ; and the hint at the possibility of another Massacre of St. Bartho- lomew, emanating from that quarter, is sufficiently caustic. On all Paris an outrage behold ! For our force, O good friends, they disband : Is't because we were strikingly bold. And against their allies made a stand ? Zounds ! there is some dark project in view : Our own safety to place beyond doubt. The old exercise each must go through, And with aye the same foot must step out. LA GARDE NATIONALE. N' cessons pas, Chers amis, d' marcher au pas. Moiti^ d' la gard' nationale S'composait d'anciens soldats ; Des braves d' la gard' royale Aussi faisions-nous grand cas. Sans r ministere, nul doute Qu'on eut pu nous voir quelqu' jour, Dans not' verre, eux boir' la goutte, Nous, marcher a leur tambour. N' cessons pas, Chers amis, d' marcher au pas. Nos voix ont paru sinistres : D' nouveau pourtant il faudra Crier a bas les ministres, Les jdsuit' et caetera. Pour son argent j' crois qu' la foule A bien 1' droit d' former un voeu ; N'est-c' que quand la maison croule Qu'on permet d' crier au feu ? N' cessons pas, Chers amis, d' marcher au pas. Au lieu d' monter a la Chambre, Nous aurions bien du, je 1' sens, Des injur's de plus d'un membre D'mander raison aux trois cents. La Charte qu'on y tiraille Est leur remi^art ; mais, au fond. On pent franchir c'te muraille Par les breches qu'ils y font. N' cessons pas, Chers amis, d' marcher au pas. Au chateau faire V service Sans cartouch's pour se garder; En voir donner a chaqu' Suisse; En arrier' 9a fait r'garder. THE NATIONAL GUARD. 189 Let US not cease, dear comrades, ho ! To keep the step and forward go ! Of the National Guard, it is true. The one half did old soldiers comprise j On the brave of the Royal Guard, too. We had oft looked with favouring eyes. Were it not for this government plan. Without question the day would have come. When, whilst they would have quaifed from our can. We ourselves should have marched to their drum. Let U3 not cease, dear comrades, ho ! To keep the step and forward go ! Though our voices were heard with a frown ; Nevertheless we must raise them again. Crying, " Down with the ministers, down With the whole Jesuitical train !" For their money, I hold that the crowd Have a right any wishes to make : To cry fire is it only allowed. When the house is beginning to shake ? Let us not cease, dear comrades, ho ! To keep the step and forward go ! Now I feel 'twas no manner of use At the Chamber that guard we should mount : We for more than one member's abuse Should have made the three hundred account! As their rampart the Charter they hail. Though such liberties with it they take: Such a wall it were easy to scale. By the breaches that in it they make. Let us not cease, dear comrades, ho ! To keep the step and forward go I At the palace on duty to be. Whilst for safety a cartridge we lack ; Every Swiss well-provided to see; This may tempt one, in truth, to look back. 190 LA DEESSE. Qui retrograde se blouse; Gens d' la cour, sauf vot' respect, Vous risquez quatre-vingt douze Pour ravoir quatre-vingt sept. N ' cessons pas, Chers amis, d' marcher au pas. Puisqu' Mont Rouge nous menace, Et rev' quelqu' Saint-Barthel'my, Preparons-nous, quoiqu'on fasse, A repousser I'ennemi. Quand vers un' perte certaine L' navire est conduit foU'ment, En ddpit du capitaine Faut sauver le batiment. N' cessons pas, Chers amis, d' marcher au pas. LA DfiESSE. SUR UNE PERSONNE QUE l'aUTEUR A VUE REPRESENTER LA LIBERTE DANS UNE DES FETES DE LA REVOLUTION. EsT-CE bien vous, vous que je vis si belle, Quand tout un peuple, entourant votre char, Vous saluait du nom de Pimmortelle Dont votre main brandissait I'etendard ? De nos respects, de nos cris d'allegresse, De votre gloire et de votre bcautd, Vous marchiez fiere : oui, vous etiez deesse, Deesse de la Liberty. THE GODDESS. 191 All respect, O Court-people, for you ! To retrace is to blunder, by Heaven ! Yet it seems that you risk ninety-two. In the hope to regain eighty-seven! Let us not cease, dear comrades, ho ! To keep the step and forward go ! Since Mont Rouge o'er us menacing lowers, And a sort of Saint Barthel'my dreams. Let's prepare, notwithstanding their powers. Such repulse for the foe as beseems. When the ship hurries on to her wreck, Steered by ignorance over the wave, In despite of the Captain on deck, 'Tis our duty the vessel to save ! Let us not cease, dear comrades, ho ! To keep the step and forward go ! THE GODDESS. ON A PERSON WHOM THE AUTHOR HAD SEEN PLAYINO THE PART OP LIBERTT IN ONE OF THE FETES OF THE REVOLUTION. What ! is it thou, thou whom I saw so fair in other days. When a whole people roimd thy car in rapture thronged to gaze .' They bade thee, whilst saluting thee, the name im- mortal bear Of her whose standard by thy hand aloft waa brandished there. Our shouts of joy, the deep respect with which to thee we bowed. Thy glory and thy matchless charms, combined to make thee proud : Yes, yes, a goddess thou didst move majestic through the crowd. Goddess of Liberty ! 192 LA DEESSr. Vous traversiez des ruines gothiques ; Nos d^fenseurs se pressaient sur vos pas : Les fleurs pleuvaient, et des vierges pudiques Melaient leurs cliants a I'hymne des combats. Moi, pauvre enfant, dans une coupe amere. En orphelin par le sort allaite, Je mMcriais : " Tenez-moi lieu de mere, D^esse de la Libert^." De noms afFreux cette ^poque est fl^trie ; Mais, jeune alors, je n'ai rien pu juger : En ^pelant le doux mot de patrie, Je tressaillais d'horreur pour I'dtraiiger. Tout s'agitait, s'armait pour la dtfense ; Tout ^tait fier, surtout la pauvretd. Ah ! rendez-moi les jours de mon enfance, D^esse de la Liberte. Volcan eteint sous les cendres qu'il lance, Apres vingt ans ce peuple se rendort; Et r^tranger, apportant sa balance, Lui dit deux fois : " Gaulois, pesons ton or." THE GODDESS. 193 O'er ruins of a Gothic age thy course triumphant lay; Our brave defenders round thee pressed to greet thee on thy way. Then wreaths of flowers were rained in showers, and virgins chaste and fair Mingled their own harmonious strains with many a martial air. I, who, a hapless child, was doomed, as one of orphan race. To drain the bitter draughts that chance before my lips might place, I only cried, " Oh I grant to me a mother's fond em- brace, Goddess of Liberty !" With names of infamous renown that epoch hath been fraught; But then, in youth's unconscious age, I could not judge of aught : In spelling, with my childish tongue, our country — ten- der word — The thought of foreigners and foes my soul with horror stirred. All was in agitation then ; all armed them for defence ; All, all were proud, but poverty to pride made most pretence. Ah, give me back ! ah, give me back my childhood's joyous sense. Goddess of Liberty ! As some volcano quenched beneath its ashes, heap on heap. This people, after twenty years, was lulled again to sleep : And thus the stranger brought with him his balance in his hold. And twice could say to them, " O Gauls ! come, let us weigh your gold ! " 194 LE QUATORZE JUILLET. Quand notre ivresse, au ciel rendant hommage, Sur un autel elevait la beaute, D'un reve heureux vous nMtiez que I'image, Deesse de la Liberty. Je vous revois, et le temps trop rapide Ternit ces yeux ou riaient les Amours ; Je vous revois, et votre front qu'il ride Semble a ma voix rougir de vos beaux jours. Rassurez-vous : char, autel, fleurs, jeunesse, Gloire, vertu, grandeur, espoir, fierte, Tout a p^ri ; vous n'etes plus deesse, Deesse de la Liberty. LE QUATORZE JUILLET. La Force, 1829. Pour im captif, souvenir plein de charmes ! J'e'tais bien jeune ; on criait : Vengeons-nous ! THE FOURTEENTH OF JULY. 195 When in our drunkenness we paid our homage to the skies. And bowing down to beauty, bade for her an altar rise. Thou wert but of some happy dream the image in our eyes. Goddess of Liberty ! I see thee once again, and now hath Time's too rapid flight Made dull those eyes, where once the Loves were laugh- ing in their light : I see thee once again, and Time hath wrinkled so thy brow, That at my voice, for thy young days, methinks 'tis blushing now. Be re-assured ; the car, the flowers, the altar as of yore. Youth, glory, virtue, grandeur, hope, and pride, are now no more : All, all have perished ; thou art not a goddess as be- fore, Goddess of Liberty ! THE FOURTEENTH OF JULY. La Force, 1829. In a note to this song, Beranger remarks that on the 11th of July, 1789, the day on which the Bastille was taken, the weather was unusually brilliant ; and that the fortieth anni- versary of that day was similarly distinguished by an un- clouded sun, though in the middle of a very wet summer. The poet was at this time expiating some of his political satires in the prison of La Force. In 1789 he was a boy, nine years old. The soldier clad in blue, mentioned in the second stanza, was one of the French Guards of that day. During the assault on the Bastille, many of them escaped from their barracks, and rendered valuable assistance to the people. How the remembrance a poor captive charms ! I, still a boy, for vengeance heard the cry. 196 LE QUATORZE JUILLET. A la Bastille ! aux armes ! vite, aux armes ! Marchands, bourgeois, artisans couraient tous. Je vols palir et mere et femme et fille ; Le canon gronde aux rappels du tambour. Victoire au peuple ! il a pris la Bastille ! Un beau soleil a fete ce grand jour, A fet^ ce grand jour. Enfants, vieillards, riche ou pauvre, on s'embrasse. Les femmes vont redisant mille exploits. H^ros du siege, un soldat bleu qui passe Est applaudi des mains et de la voix. Le nom du roi frappe alors mon oreille ; De Lafayette on parle avec amour. La France est libre, et ma raison sMveille. Un beau soleil a fet^ ce grand jour, A fete ce grand jour. Le lendemain un vieillard docte et grave Guide mes pas sur d'immenses d^ris. " Mon ills, dit-il, ici d'un peuple esclave Le despotisme dtoufFait tous les cris. Mais des captifs pour y loger la foule, II creusa tant au pied de chaque tour, Qu'au premier choc le vieux chateau sMcroule. Un beau soleil a fete ce grand jour, A fet^ ce grand jour. La Libert^, rebelle antique et sainte, Mon fils, s'armant des fers de nos aieux, A son triomphe appelle en cette enceinte L'Egalit^, qui redescend des cieux. De ces deux sceurs la foudre gronde et brille. C'est Mirabeau tonnant contre la Cour. Sa voix nous crie : Encore une Bastille ! Un beau soleil a fetd ce grand jour, A fet^ ce grand jour. Oil nous semons chaque peuple moissonne. Deja vingt rois, au bruit de nos ddbats. THE FOURTEENTH OF JULY. 197 " To the Bastille ! To arms ! to arms ! to arms !" Art, trade, and labour, all their hosts supply. Wife, daughter, mother, in pale groups stand round : The cannon roar ; the rolling drums resound : Lo! the Bastille is theirs; victory the mob hath crowned ! The sun poured forth a brilliant ray, To welcome in that glorious day. Children, old men, rich, poor, embrace with glee ; A thousand exploits female tongues repeat; A soldier passing, clad in blue, they see, And him, as hero, hands and voices greet. Then on mine ear the name of King did break; Of Lafayette with love they mention make ; France had her freedom gained ; my reason was awake. The sun poured forth a brilliant ray, To welcome in that glorious day. An old man on the morrow, grave and wise, Guided my steps o'er ruins vast and drear : " My son," said he, " a slavish people's cries Enslaving despots oft have stifled here. But they, their crowd of captives safe to keep. Beneath each tower dug out the earth so deep, That the first shock this fort, so old, could level sweep. The sun poured forth a brilliant ray. To welcome in that glorious day. Ancient and holy rebel. Freedom here. Armed with the fetters that our grandsires wore. Triumphant, bids Equality appear. And she, my son, descends from Heaven once more. Sisters are they: their bolts do hiss and glow; Against the Court now thunders Mirabeau ; His loud voice doth to us another Bastille show ! The sun poured forth a brilliant ray. To welcome in that glorious day. Each nation reaps where'er the seed we sow; Already twenty kings our movements hear; b2 198 Portent, tremblants, la main a leur couronne, Et leurs sujets de nous parlent tous bas, Des droits de Thomme, ici, I'ere fe'conde S'ouvre, et du globe accomplira le tour. Sur ces de'bris, Dieu cr^e un nouveau monde. Un beau soleil a fet^ ce grand jour, A fetd ce grand jour." De ces lefons, qu'un vieillard na'a donnees, Le souvenir dans mon coeur sommeillait. Mais j e revois, apres quarante ann^es. Sous les verroux, le Quatorze Juillet. O Libert^ ! ma voix, qu'on veut proscrire, Redit ta gloire aux murs de ce s^jour. A mes barreaux I'aurore vient sourire ; Un beau soleil a fet^ ce grand jour, A fetd ce grand jour. LOUIS XI. Heureux villageois, dansons : Sautez, fillettes Et gar9ons ! Unissez vos joyeux sons. Musettes Et chansons ! Notre vieux roi, cach^ dans ces tourelles, Louis, dont nous parlons tout bas, Veut essayer, au temps des fleurs nouvelles, S'il peut sourire a nos ^ats. LOUIS XI. 199 And whilst of us their subjects whisper low, They raise their hands to feel their crowns in fear. An era teeming with the Rights of Man Commences here, and the whole globe shall span : God in this wreck marks out for a new world his plan. The sun poured forth a brilliant ray. To welcome in that glorious day." These lessons, that an old man gave me then. To slumber in my memory were thrown by ; But after forty years I see again. Shut in by bolts, the Fourteenth of July. Freedom ! my voice they would forbid to sing; Yet with thy glory these dull walls shall ring ; Morning athwart my bars her brightest smiles doth fling ! Again the sun, with brilliant ray. Doth welcome in this glorious day. LOUIS XI. It is said tliat this king, in retirement at Plessis-les-Tours with Tristan, the confidant and the instrument of his cruelties, would sometimes gaze upon the peasants dancing before the windows of his castle. Happy villagers, dance around I Lads and lasses, gaily bound ! Rejoice, rejoice, O pipe and voice. In a mingled, merry sound ! Our old King Louis, hidden in these towers. Whose name we scarcely dare to breathe aloud. Would try at times, when spring puts forth fresh flowers. If he can smile upon our festive crowd. 200 Heureux villageois, dansous : Sautez, fillettes Et garjons ! Unissez vos joyeux sons, Musettes Et chansons ! Quand sur nos bords on rit, on chante, on aime, Louis se retient prisonnier : II craint les grands, et le peujile, et Dieu meme ; Surtout il craint son h^ritier. Heureux villageois, dansons : Sautez, fillettes Et gargons ! Unissez vos joyeux sons, Musettes Et chansons ! Voyez d'ici briller cent hallebardes Aux feux d'un soleil pur et doux. N'entend on pas le Qui vive des gardes, Qui se mele au bruit des verroux ? Heureux villageois, dansons : Sautez, fillettes Et gar^ons ! Unissez vos joyeux sons, Musettes Et chansons ! II vient! il vient! Ah ! du plus humble chaume Ce roi pent envier la paix. Le voyez- vous, comme un pale fantome, A travers ces barreaux epais ? Heureux villageois, dansons : Sautez, fillettes Et garfons ! 201 Happy villagers, dance around ! Lads and lasses, gaily bound ! Rejoice, rejoice, O pipe and voice. In a mingled, merry sound ! "Whilst on our banks we laugh, and sing, and love. Stem Louis keeps himself a prisoner there : He fears the high, the low — nay, God above ; But beyond all he fears his hapless heir. Happy villagers, dance around ! Lads and lasses, gaily bound ! Rejoice, rejoice, O pipe and voice. In a mingled, merry sound ! See hence, a hundred halberds strike the eye. Beneath our sunny heaven, so soft and clear ! And whilst the guards their watchful challenge cry, Grates not the clang of bolts upon thine ear ? Happy villagers, dance around ! Lads and lasses, gaily bound ! Rejoice, rejoice, O pipe and voice. In a mingled, merry sound ! He comes ! he comes ! The peace of humblest cot This king, alas ! with envy might regard. Like some sepulchral phantom, see'st thou not His form, behind those windows thickly barred ? Happy villagers, dance around ! Lads and lasses, gaily bound ! 202 Unissez vos joyeux sons, Musettes Et chansons ! Dans nos hameaux quelle image brillante Nous nous faisions d'un souverain ! Q,uoi ! pour le sceptre une main defaiilante ! Pour la couronne un front chagrin ! Heureux villageois, dansons : Sautez, fillettes Et gar9ons ! Unissez vos joyeux sons, Musettes Et chansons ! Malgre nos chants, il se trouble, il frissonne : L'horloge a cause son effroi. Ainsi toujours il prend I'heure, qui sonne. Pour un signal de son befFroi. Heureux villageois, dansons : Sautez, fillettes Et gar9ons ! Unissez vos joyeux sons. Musettes Et chansons ! Mais notre joie, helas ! le ddsespere ; II fuit avec son favori. Craignons sa haine, et disons qu'en bon pere A ses enfants il a souri. Heureux villageois, dansons : Sautez, fillettes Et garyons ! Unissez vos joyeux sons. Musettes Et chansons ! LOUIS XI. 203 Rejoice, rejoice, O pipe and voice, In a mingled, merry sound ! How, ill our cots, the monarch's form would stand. Imaged before us with attractions rare ! What ! for the sceptre a weak trembling hand ! What ! for the crown a brow opprest with care • Happy villagers, dance around ! Lads and lasses, gaily bound ! Rejoice, rejoice, O pipe and voice. In a mingled, merry sound ! He quakes, he shivers ; all in vain we sing : 'Tis but the clock that sounds the passing hour; Yet ever thus 'tis taken by our king For the alarum from hfs signal-tower. Happy villagers, dance around ! Lads and lasses, gaily bound ! Rejoice, rejoice, O pipe and voice. In a mingled, merry sound ! Ha ! with his favourite, look ! he glides away ; Alas ! our joy can ne'er his gloom beguile ! Fearing his hate, " Our Sire," 'twere well to s lii i ig ! ununil i., }ii'.lki,' U l 3a>»'- y^m^ III 1 1.. ■■ ^j-j^nrr-t-.^ ..^^ ■iLiiiu ■■ liiiijpi 252 CONSEIL AUX BELGES. Quels biens sur vous un prince va rt^pandre ! D'abord viendra I'etiquette aux grands airs ; Puis des cordons et des croix a revendre ; Puis dues, marquis, comtes, barons, et pairs ; Puis un beau trone, en or, en soie, en nacre, Dont le coussin prete a plus d'un e'moi. S'il plait au ciel, vous aurez meme un sacre. Faites un roi, morbleu ! faites un roi ; Faites un roi, faites un roi. Puis vous aurez baisemains et parades, Discours et vers, feux d'artifice et fleurs ; Puis force gens qui se disent malades, Des qu'un bobo cause au roi des douleurs. Bonnet de pauvre et royal diademe Ont leur vermine : un dieu fit cette loi. Les courtisans rongent Torgueil supreme. Faites un roi, morbleu ! faites un roi ; Faites un roi, faites un roi. Chez vous pleuvront laquais de toute sorte, Juges, prefets, gendarmes, espions; Norabreux soldats pour leur preter main-forte ; Joie a bruler un cent de lampions. Vient le budget ! nourrir Athene et Sparte Eut, en vingt ans, moins coiite', sur ma foi. L'ogre a dind ; peuples, payez la carte. Faites un roi, morbleu ! faites un roi ; Faites un roi, faites un roi. Mais, quoi! je raille ; on le sait bien en France; J'y suis du trone un des chauds partisans. D'ailleurs Thistoire a rdpondu d'avance: Nous n'y voyons que princes bienfaisants. Peres du peuple, ils le font pamer d'aise; Plus il s'instruit, moins ils en ont d'effroi ; Au bon Henri succede Louis treize. Faites un roi, morbleu ! faites un roi ; Faites un roi, faites un roi. ADVICE TO THE BELGIANS. 253 A prince ! what blessings will he o'er you shed ! First, Etiquette will come with stately tread : Crosses and ribbons then, in full amount : Then duke, and marquis, baron, peer, and count; Then a gay throne, gold, silk, and pearl inlaid, Though of its cushions some might feel afraid : The anointing too, if Heaven but grant its aid. T'l ii II i iiiil i r II li iii)i ' n iiiTii l ii nl I I 1 'ili[jt Kissing of hands and shows then shall you see ; / / >- Odes, speeches, fireworks, flowers, shall f" i ' Im /£c-i^ceo< Then many a man shall sudden sickness feign, Soon as his Majesty feels some slight pain. On poor men's caps, on regal crowns, on all. By God's decree, some kind of vermin fall — On pride supreme tormenting courtiers crawl. Tim I ll I >'■■{] ' ^V i l "li' 1 ' ' {!.' Y i 1. miilri i [> IrJM/i; ' y^<; ui.ili> .1 lii>q. > It shall rain lacqueys, every sort and size ; Judges, and prefects, and police, and spies : Soldiers, in force enough to serve their turn ; Joy, that would coloured lamps by hundreds bum. The budget comes ! For twenty years to fill Athens and Sparta had been cheaper still ! The ogre's dined — good people, pay the bill ! Tlii iiiiiii i ii I 1 i i ii j, i n iiiil I . Ill i 1 II I liiiii^ • '^aarawde e A Itiii^j t >rS; i ii.ili i- ii li l ug ! But what ! I jest; for well in France 'tis known, How warmly there I have espoused the throne. Besides, our history is a guarantee ; Well-doing princes there alone we see. The people's sires half kill them with good fare ; The more these learn, the less have those of care ; The thirteenth Louis was good neiiry's heir! ^fewwaaktfaa liiiii; I yi n, iiiiikr n kinfr ! 254 LES SOUVENIRS DU PEUPLE. On par] era de sa gloire Sous le chaume bien long-temps. L'humble toit, dans cinquante ans, Ne connaitra plus d'autre histoire. La viendront les villageois Dire alors a quelque vieille : Par des recits d'autrefois, Mere, abregez notre veille. Bien, dit-on, qu'il nous ait nui, Le peuple encor le revere, Oui, le revere. Parlez-nous de lui, grand'mere ; Parlez-nous de lui. Mes enfants, dans ce village, Suivi des rois, il passa. Voila bien long-temps de 9a : Je venais d'entrer en manage. A pied grimpant le coteau, Oil pour voir je m'etais mise, II avait petit chapeau Avec redingote grise. Pres de lui je me troublai ; II me dit : Bonjour, ma chere, Bonjour, ma chere. —II vous a parl^, grand'mere ! II vous a parle' ! L'an apres, moi, pauvre femme, A Paris ^tant un jour, Je le vis avec sa cour : II se rendait a Notre Dame. Tous les coeurs €taient contents ; On admirait son cortege. Chacun disait : Quel beau temps ! Le ciel toujours le protege. 255 THE PEOPLE'S REMINISCENCES. Oh, many a day the straw- thatched cot Shall echo with his glory ! The humblest shed these fifty years Shall know no other story. There shall the idle villagers To some old dame resort. And beg her with those good old tales To make their evenings short. " What, though they say he did us harm, Our love this cannot dim ; Come, Granny, talk of him to us ; Come, Granny, talk of him." " Well, children, with a train of kings, Once did he pass this spot ; 'Twas long ago ; I had, just then. Begun to boil the pot. On foot he climbed the hill, whereon I watched him on his way ; He wore a small three-cornered hat ; His over-coat was grey. I trembled, near him, till he said, ' Good day, my deeir' — 'tis true." " O Granny, Granny, did he speak ? What, Granny ! speak to you ?" " Next year as I, poor soul, by chance. Through Paris strolled one day, I saw him go to Notre Dame, With all his court so gay. The crowd were charmed with such a show; Their hearts were filled with pride ; ' What splendid weather for the fete ! Heaven favours him !' they cried. 256 LES SOUVENIRS DU PEUPLE. Son sourire dtait bien doux ; D'un fils Dieu le rendait pere, Le rendait pere. — Quel beau jour pour vous, grand'mere ! Quel beau jour pour vous ! Mais, quand la pauvre Champagne Put en proie aux etrangers, Lui, bravant tous les dangers, Semblait seul tenir la campagne. Un soir, tout comme aujourd'hui, J'entends frapper a la porte ; J'ouvre, bon Dieu ! c'^tait lui Suivi d'une faible escorte. II s'asseoit ou me voila, S'ecriant : Oh, quelle guerre ! Oh, quelle guerre ! — II s'est assis la, grand'mere ! II s'est assis la ! J'ai faim, dit-il ; et bien vite Je sers piquette et pain bis ; Puis il seche ses habits, Meme a dormir le feu I'invite. Au r^veil, voyant mes pleurs, II me dit : Bonne esp^rance ! Je cours de tous ses malheurs, Sous Paris, venger la France. II part ; et comme un tresor J'ai depuis garde son verre, Gard^ son verre. — Vous I'avez encor, grand'mere ! Vous I'avez encor ! Le voici. Mais a sa perte Le he'ros fut entraind Lui, qu'un pape a couronne, Est mort dans une ile deserte. THE people's reminiscences. 257 Softly he smiled, for God had given To his fond arms a boy." " Oh, how much joy you must have felt ! O Granny, how much joy !" " But when at length our poor Champagne To strangers fell a prey. He seemed alone to hold his ground. And stand in danger's way. One night, as now, I heard a knock, And soon the door unbarred ; W hen, oh ! good God ! 'twas he, himself. With but a scanty guard. ' Alas, these wars ! these wars !' he cried. Whilst seated in this chair." " What ! Granny, Granny, there he sat ? What ! Granny, he sat there ?" " ' I'm hungry,' said he: quick I served Thin wine and hard brown bread ; He dried his clothes, and by the fire In sleep reclined his head. Waking, he saw my tears, and cried, ' Cheer up, good dame ; I go 'Neath Paris' walls to strike for France One last avenging blow.' He went ; and on the glass he used Such value I have set. That I have kept it." " What ! till now ? You have it, Granny, yet ?" " Here 'tis : but 'twas the hero's fate j To ruin to be led; i He, whom a Pope had crowned, alas ! j In a lone isle lies dead. 5 z2 258 PONIATOWSKI. Long-temps aucun ne I'a cru ; On disait : II va paraitre. Par mer il est accouru ; L'dtranger va voir son maitre. Quand d'erreur on nous tira, Ma douleur fut bien amere ! Fut bien amere ! — Dieu vous b^nira, grand'mere ; Dieu vous b^nira. PONIATOWSKI. JtflLLET, 1881. Quoi ! vous fuyez, vous, les vainqueurs du monde ! Devant Leipzig le sort s'est-il mdpris ! Quoi ! vous fuyez ! et ce fieuve qui gronde, D'un pont qui saute emporte les debris ! Soldats, chevaux, pele-mele, et les armes, Tout tombe la ; I'Elster roule entrav^. II roule sourd aux vceux, aux oris, aux larmes . " Rien qu'une main, Fran9ais, je suis sauve' !" " Rien qu'une main ? malheur a qui I'implore ! Passons, passons. S'arreter ! et pour qui ?" Pour un heros que le fleuve de'vore ! Blesse trois fois, e'est Poniatowski. Qu'importe ! on fuit. La frayeur rend barbare. A pas un coeur son cri n'est arrivd. De son coursier le torrent le s^pare : " Rien qu'une main, Fran9ais, je suis sauv^ !" II va pdrir ; non ; il lutte, il surnage ; II se rattache aux longs crins du coursier. " Mourir noy^ ! dit-il, lorsqu'au rivage J'entends le feu, je vois luire I'acier ! PONIATOWSKI. 259 Long time they deemed it false, and said, ' Soon shall he re-appear ; O'er ocean comes he, and the foe Shall find his master here.' Ah, what a bitter pang I felt. When we our error knew !" " Poor Granny ! God will kindly look, Will kindly look on you." PONIATOWSKI. July, 1831. What ! are ye flying, conquerors of the world ? Hath Fortune blundered before Leipzic's walls ? What, flying ! whilst the bridge, blown up and hurled In ruins back, to the hoarse torrent falls ! Men, horses, arms, all wildly mingled, there Are plunged ; the Elster rolls encumbered by : But deaf it rolls to vow, or tear, or prayer : " Frenchman, give but a hand, and I am saved !" the cry. " Nought but a hand ? a plague on him who craves ! Press on, press on ! for whom should we delay .'" 'Tis for a hero sinking in the waves ; 'Tis Poniatowski, wounded thrice to-day. Who cares ? Fear bids them haste with savage speed ; To stern, cold hearts for aid doth he apply : The waters part him from his faithful steed ; " Frenchman, give but a hand, and I am saved !" his cry. He dies — not yet — he struggles — swims — once more The charger's mane his clutching fingers feel. " What ! to die drowned ! whilst there upon the shore I hear the cannon, and I see the steel ! 260 PONIATOWSKI. Freres, a moi ! vous vantiez ma vaillance, Je vous cheris ; mon sang I'a bien prouv^. Ah ! qu'il m'en reste a verser pour la France ! Rien qu'une main, Fran9ais, je suis sauvd !" Point de secours ! et sa main d^faillante Lache son guide : adieu, Pologne, adieu ! Mais un doux reve, une image brillante Dans son esprit descend du sein de Dieu. " Que vois-je ? enfin, I'aigle blanc se reveille. Vole, combat, de sang russe abreuv^. T7n chant de gloire eclate a mon oreille. Rien qu'une main, Franfais, je suis sauve !" Point de secours ! il n'est plus, et la rive Voit I'ennemi camper dans ses roseaux. Ces temps sont loin; mais une voix plaintive Dans r ombre encore appelle au fond des eaux ; Et depuis peu (grand Dieu, fais qu'on me croie !) Jusques au ciel son cri s'est dleve. Pourquoi ce cri que le ciel nous renvoie : " Rien qu'une main, Fran9ais, je suis sauv^ !" C'est la Pologne et son peuple fidele. Qui tant de fois a pour nous combattu; Elle se noie au sang qui coule d'elle. Sang qui s'^puise en gardant sa vertu. Comme ce chef mort pour notre patrie. Corps en lambeaux dans I'Elster retrouve, Au bord du gouffre un peuple entier nous crie : " Rien qu'une main, Fran9ais, je suis sauve' !" PONIATOWSKI. 261 Help, comrades, help ! you boasted I was brave ! I loved you — this my blood should testify. Ah ! 'tis for France some drops I still would save ! Frenchman, give but a hand, and I am saved ! " his cry. There is no succour ! and his failing hand Lets go its guide : " Poland, adieu, adieu !" But, lo ! a dream descends at Heaven's command, With brilliant image dawning on his view. " Ha ! the White Eagle to the combat wakes ; All soaked with Russian blood I see it fly : Loud on mine ear a hymn of glory breaks : Frenchman, give but a hand, and I am saved !" his cry. There is no succour ! he is dead — the foe Along the reedy shore their camp have made. That day is distant ; but a voice of woe Still calls beneath the waters' deepest shade. And now, (great God ! give man a willing ear,) That mournful voice is lifted to the sky ! Wherefore, from Heaven re-echoed to us here, " Frenchman, give but a hand, and I am saved !" the cry.^ 'Tis Poland, 'tis her faithful sons' lament : How oft our battles she hath helped to gain ! She drowns herself in her own heart's- blood, spent With lavish flow, her honour to maintain. As then the Chief, whose mangled corse was found In Eister's waves — he for our land did die — Now calls a Nation, o'er a gulf profound, " Frenchmen, give but a hand, and we are saved !" the cry. 262 L'ALCHIMISTE. Tu vas, dis-tu, vieux et pauvre alchimiste, Tirer de 1 'or des mdtaux indigents, Et, faisant plus pour moi que I'age attriste. Me rajeunir par de secrets agents. J'ouvre ma bourse a ta science occulte, Mon coeur cre'dule au grand oeuvre a recours. Chacun pourtant conservera son culte : Tout Tor pour toi, mais rends-moi mes beaux jours. Sur ce brasier souffle done en silence, Ou d'un vieux livre interroge les mots. Ton art est sur ; le Pactole et Jouvence Dans ce creuset vont marier leurs flots. L'ceil sur ce feu, que tu reves de choses ! Vois-tu d^ja le sourire des cours ? Moi, pour mon front je n'attends que des roses. Tout i'or pour toi, mais rends-raoi mes beaux jours. Ivre d'espoir, q»xel de'lire t'e'gare ! " O rois, dis-tu, baisez mes pieds poudreux. 263 THE ALCHYMIST. Beranger remarks, in a note, that thii race of charlatans has not entire'y disappeared from France ; and, in fact, that it was from one of them that he took the idea of this song. Thou dost pretend, O Alchymist ! albeit poor and old, That thou from meaner metals canst bring forth abun- dant gold ; And doing more for me, o'er whom age hath its sadness flung, By some mysterious agency that thou canst make me young. I to thy hidden science, then, my open purse impart; Thy work is great, and hath a charm for my confiding heart. But 'tis agreed, that each whatever he prizeth shall re- tain : Thine all the gold, but give me back my joyous prime again Come, on this brasier let thy breath be felt — we will not speak — Or in thine antiquated book the words thou needest seek: Pactolus and Juventa here shall see thy sure art sped. And in this crucible their streams of gold and youth shall wed. Thine eye is fixed upon the fire ! of what may be thy dream ? Already do the smiles of Courts upon thee gaily beam ? I, only to bedeck my brow, would roses put in train : Thine all the gold, but give me back my joyous prime again ! Drunk thou must be, or mad with hope ! what sudden phrensy's this ? I hear thy words, " O Kings ! make haste my dusty feet to kiss ! 264 l'alchimiste. J'aurai plus d'or que Cortez et Pizarre N'en ont conquis pour d'autres que pour eux." Naguere encor, toi qui vivais d'aumones, D^ja I'orgueil rugit dans tes discoui-s. Achete au poids et sceptres et couronnes : Tout Tor pour toi, mais rends-moi mes beaux jours. I Oui, rends-moi-les avec leur indigence ; i Rends a mon ame un corps plus vigoureux ; ■. A mon esprit ote I'expdrience ; ; Souffle en mon coeur un sang plus gendreux. Puis t'^chappant de ton palais de marbre, !, En char pompeux berce sur le velours, 1 Vois-moi dormir, heureux au pied d\in arbre. Tout I'or pour toi, mais rends-mois mes beaux jours. Je sals pourtant ce que vaut la richesse ; Mais j'aime encor; je possede, et, cent fois, J'ai craint de voir ma trop jeune maitresse Compter mes ans et les siens par ses doigts. C'est du soleil qui sied a sa peau brune ; C'est de T^te qu'il faut a nos amours. THE ALCHYMIST. 265 4%or . NoTCortez •« Pizjuro won such heaps of shining gold. For others, tbafctneniselves, as I shall in my grasp be- hold." Yet but a little while ago, thou didst for alms beseech ; And no>v already full-blown pride is blustering in thy speech. Buy sceptres then, and crowns that men to sell by weight are fain : Thine all the gold, but give me back my joyous prime again ! Yes, yes, with all their indigence, those gladsome days restore : Grant to my soul another frame more vigorous, I im- plore : Take from my mind, oh ! take away the sense of all I know. And let warm blood about my heart more generously flow ! Then from thy marble palace-walls make thy escape awhile. And in thy pompous car of state, from velvet cushions, smile To see me sleep beneath a tree reclined, a happy swain : Thine all the gold, but give me back my joyous prime again ! Yet ne'ertheless, its proper worth I would to wealth assign ; Though still I love, and loving call too young a mistress mine : A hundred times at least, with her I've had my anxious fears. Lest on her fingers for us both she reckon up our years. It is the sun that would set off her dark complexion well; It is the summer we must have our tales of love to tell: A A 266 LA PAUVRE FEMMF,. Celle que j'aime est sourde a la fortune. Tout Tor pour toi, mais rends-moi mes beaux jours. Mais au creuset ta main que trouve-t'-elle ? Rien ! te voila plus pauvre et moi plus vieux. " Non, non, dis-tu ; demain, lune nouvelle ; Recommen9ons ; demain nous serons dieux." Tu mens, vieillard; mais d'erreurs caressantes J'ai tant besoin, que je te crois toujours. Sur mon front nu vois ces rides naissantes : Tout I'or pour toi, mais rends-moi mes beaux jours. LA PAUVRE FEMME. Il neige, il neige, et la, devant I'eglise, Une vieille prie a genoux. Sous ses haillons ou s'engouffre la bise, C'est du pain qu'elle attend de nous, Seule, k tatons, au parvis Notre-Dame, Elle vient hiver comme ^t^. Elle est aveugle, hdlas ! la pauvre femme. Ah ! faisons-lui la charity. Savez-vous bien ce que fut cette vieille Au teint have, aux traits amaigris ? D'un grand spectacle autrefois la merveille, Ses chants ravissaient tout Paris. THE POOR WOMAN. 2G7 She, upon whom I fondly dote, treats fortune with dis- dain : Thine all the gold, but give me back my joyous prime again ! But in the crucible thy hand, at length what doth it hold? Nothing ! what, nothing ! then art thou more poor, and I more old. " No, no," thou sayest, " a new moon to-morrow shall we see ; Then let us recommence, and gods we shall to-morrow be." Old man, thou liest ! but, alas ! of errors that can please e^^ I have such need, that still I heed ta;r fables false as these. Look on my forehead bald ! mark how the wrinkles come amain: Thine all the gold, but give me back my joyous prime again! THE POOR WOMAN. It snows, it snows ! and there, before the church. Look, an old woman at her prayers is kneeling ! In rags, through which this north-east wind doth search, It is for bread she is to us appealing. She to Notre Dame alone her way doth find. Groping through summer's sun and winter's snow; Alas, alas ! the poor old soul is blind : Ah, then, on her let us our alms bestow ! Know ye by chance what that old dame hath been, She with pale hue and features thin and long? Of some vast theatre the wondrous queen. All Paris once was ravished with her song. 268 LA PAUVRE FEMME. Les jeunes gens, dans le rire ou les larmes, S'exaltaient devant sa beautd. Tons, ils ont du des reves a ses charmes. Ah ! faisons-lui la charitd Combien de fois, s'eloignant du theatre, Au pas pressd de ses chevaux, Elle entendit une foule idolatre La poursuivre de ses bravos ! Pour Penleyer au char qui la transporte, Pour la rendre a la volupte, Que de rivaux I'attendent a sa porte ! Ah I faisons-lui la charitd Quand tons les arts lui tressaient des couronnes, Qu'elle avait un pompeux sejour! Que de cristaux, de bronzes, de colonnes! Tributs de I'amour a Tamour. Dans ses banquets que de muses fideles Au vin de sa prospdrite! Tous les palais ont leurs nids d'hirondelles. Ah ! faisons-lui la charitd. Re vers affreux ! un jour la maladie Eteint ses yeux, brise sa voix; Et bientot seule et pauvre elle mendie Ou, depuis vingt ans, je la vois. Aucune main n'eut mieux Part de rdpandre Plus d'or, Hvec plus de bonte'. Que cette main qu'elle hesite a nous tendre. Ah ! faisons-lui la charitd. Le froid redouble, 6 douleur f o misere ! Tous ses membres sont engourdis. Ses doigts ont peine a tenir le rosaire Qui I'eut fait sourire jadis. Sous tant de maux, si son coeur tendre encore Pent se nourrir de pidtd; Pour qu'il ait foi dans le ciel qu'elle implore. Ah ! faisons-lui la charitd. THE POOR WOMAN. 269 The young, by her to tears or laughter moved, i Before her beauty did half-maddened grow ; t. Of many a dream her charms the source have proved : '] Ah, then, on her let us our alms bestow ! \ How many a time, when from the stage retreating, j With rapid feet her coursers homeward flew, \ She heard the idolizing crowd repeating \ The loud applause, that would her steps pursue. ] Prompt from her car to aid her in descending, Pleasure's soft ways ageiin to bid her know, ;' How many a rival at her door attending ! ^ Ah, then, on her let us our alms bestow ! ■ When all the Arts wove crowns for her to wear, 1 How rich and stately her abode was made ! | What crystals, bronzes, columns, glittered there, \ Tributes that love to love had freely paid ! , How at her feasts the Muse would faithful rest, ; Long as her wines did prosperously flow ! ,i In every palace swallows build a nest ! Ah, then, on her let us our alms bestow ! Fearful reverse ! disease, with sudden power, i Broke down her voice and quenched her visual ray; ^ A poor lone beggar was she from that hour, '; Where, twenty years, I've seen her day by day. ^ No hand the needy better could have fed; : None with more gold more kindliness could show. Than this same hand to us reluctant spread : Ah, then, on her let us our alms bestow ! ■ O grief ! O pity ! doubly sharp the cold \ On her numbed members mercilessly preys; Her fingers scarce the rosary can hold, At which, perchance, she smiled in other days. ■ if, tender still beneath such load of cares. With pious feelings m^ her heart can glow, Ah, now, on her let us our alms bestow! (ti ^t^Afu^/jn^iXi^JU \ 270 COUPLETS ADRESSBS A DES HABITANTS DE L'iLE DE FRANCE (iLE MAU- RICE), aUI, LORS DE l'eNVOI au'lLS FIRENT POUR LA SOU- SCRIPTION DES BLESs:ES DE JUILLET, m'aDRESSERENT UNE CHANSON ET UNE BALLE DE CAFE. Quoi ! vos ^chos redisent nos chansons ! Bons Mauriciens, ils sont Frangais encore I A travers flots, tempetes et moussons, Leur voix me vient d'ou vient pour nous I'aurore. De tant dVchos r^sonnant jusqu'a nous, Les plus lointains nous semblent les plus doux. Mes chants joyeux de jeunesse et d'amour Ont done aussi fait un si long voyage. Loin de vos bords leur bruit vole a son tour, Et me revient quand je suis vieux et sage. De tant d'dchos rdsonnant jusqu'a nous, Les plus lointains nous semblent les plus doux. On m'a cont^ qu'au bord du Gange assis, Des exilds, gais enfants de la Seine, A mes chansons, la, ber^aient leurs soucis. Qu'ainsi ma muse endorme votre peine ! De tant dMchos rdsonnant jusqu'a nous, Les plus lointains nous semblent les plus doux. Si mes chansons vont encor voyager, Accueillez-les, ces folles hirondelles, Comme un bon fils re9oit le messager Qui, d'une mere, apporte des nouvelles. De tant d'dchos resonnant jusqu'a nous, Les plus lointains nous semblent les plus doux. 271 VERSES ADDRESSED TO THE INHABITANTS OF THE ISLE OF FRANCE (the MAURITIUS), WHO, WHEN THET FORWARDED THEIR SUBSCRIPTION FOR THE WOUKDED OF JULY, ADDRESSED A SONG TO MYSELF, WITH A BALE OF COFFEE. What ! in our songs your echoes take their part ! The good Mauritians ! they are French at heart ! O'er waves, and tempests, and monsoons, is borne Their voice to me, whence comes to us the mom. Of all the echoes that our ears may greet. The farthest wafted seem to us most sweet ! My joyous warblings, then, of love and youth. They, too, have made so long a voyage, in sooth ? Far from your shores in turn their murmur flies, To me returning when I'm old and wise. Of all the echoes that our ears may greet. The farthest wafted seem to us most sweet ! They tell me, seated on the Ganges' strand. Gay children of the Seine, an exiled band. Have with my songs relieved an aching breast j So may my Muse your sorrows lull to rest ! Of all the echoes that our ears may greet. The farthest wafted seem to us most sweet ! If songs of mine again should cross the sea, Poor foolish swallows, let them welcome be ! As a good son the messenger will hail. Who of a mother's welfare brings the tale. Of all the echoes that our ears may greet. The farthest wafted seem to us most sweet ! 272 LE GRENIER. Vou8-meme aussi c^lebrez vos amours. Dieu permettra que nos voix se confondent; Mais en fran9ais, freres, chantez toujours, Pour que toujours nos ^chos se r^pondent. De tant d'echos re'sonnant jusqu'a nous, Les plus lointains nous semblent les plus doux. LE GRENIER. Je viens revoir I'asile ou ma jeunesse De la misere a subi les le9ons. J'avais vingt ans, une foUe maitresse, De francs amis, et I'amour des chansons. Bravant le monde, et les sots et les sages. Sans avenir, riche de mon printemps, Leste et joyeux je montais six etages. Dans un grenier qu'on est bien a vingt ans! C'est un grenier, point ne veux qu'on I'ignore. La fut mon lit bien che'tif et bien dur; La fut ma table, et je retrouve encore Trois pieds d'un vers charbonn^s sur le mur. Apparaisez, plaisirs de mon bel age, Que d'un coup d'aile a fustigds le Temps : Vingt fois pour vous j'ai mis ma montre en gage. Dans un grenier qu'on est bien a vingt ans ! Lisette ici doit surtout apparaitre, Vive, jolie, avec un frais chapeau : Ddja sa main A IVtroite fenetre Suspend son schall en guise de rideau. THE GARRET. 273 Ye, to your loves should also songs indite; Heaven will permit our voices to unite. But aye in French, O brothers, sing ! 'twere well. That aye our echoes should responsive swell. Of all the echoes that our ears may greet. The farthest wafted seem to us most sweet ! THE GARRET. I SEE once more the asylum where my youth Those lessons learned that to the poor belong : A score of years were mine, friends full of truth, A doting mistress, and the love of song. Braving the world, its wise and simple men. Rich in my spring, no care beyond the day. Joyous and light, I climbed six stories then : At twenty, e'en the garret must be gay ! It is a garret — let them know it, all — There used to stand my hard and humble bed ; My table there; and charcoaled on the wall. Still may three quarters of a verse be read. Come back, ye pleasures of my life's bright dawn ! Whom Time's rude wing, methinks, hath scourged away; Full oft for you I put my watch in pawn — At twenty, e'en the garret must be gay ! But above all, 'tis here Lisette should stand. So blithe, so lovely, in her fresh-trimmed bonnet; See, at the narrow window, how her hand Suspends her shawl, in place of curtain on it ! 274 Sa robe aussi va parer ma couchette ; Respecte, Amour, ses plis longs et flottants. J'ai 8u depuis qui payait sa toilette. Dans un grenier qu'on est bien a vingt ans ! A table un jour, jour de grande richesse, De mes amis les voix brillaieut en choeur, ^uand jusqu'ici monte un cri d'all^gresse : A Marengo Bonaparte est vainqueur! Le canon gronde; un autre chant commence; Nous c^l^brons tant de faits ^clatants. Les rois jamais n'envahiront la France. Dans un grenier qu'on est bien a vingt ans ! Quittons ce toit, ou ma raison s'enivre. Oh ! qu'ils sont loins ces jours si regrettes ! J'e'changerais ce qu'il me reste a vivre Contre un des mois qu'ici Dieu m'a comptes. Pour rever gloire, amour, plaisir, folic, Pour d^penser sa vie en peu d'instants, D'un long espoir pour la voir embellie, Dans un grenier qu'on est bien a vingt ans ! COUPLET ECRIT SUB L'aLBUM DE MADAME AMEDEE DE V***, Que bien long-temps cet album vous redise Qu'un chansonnier tendre, mais d^ja vieux, Trouvant en vous bont^, grace, franchise, Fut un moment la dupe de vos yeux. Q,uoi ! par amour ? Non : il n'y doit plus croire. Mais, las ! il prit, par vous trop bien flattd, Pour un sourire de la gloire Le sourire de la beauts. LINES. 275 Decked is my bed, too, with her flowing dress; Ah, Love ! respect its smooth folds in thy play ! I've heard who paid for it; but ne'ertheless. At twenty, e'en the garret must be gay ! Feasting one day — unwonted was the cheer — As loud the chorus of my comrades pealed, A shout of joy ascended to us here, " Napoleon conquers on Marengo's field !" The cannon thunder — we, in homage paid To deeds so great, another song essay ; The soil of France kings never shall invade ! At twenty, e'en the garret must be gay ! Drunk is my reason — I must quit this spot ! O days much mourned, how distant ye appear ! I 'd give what still of life may be my lot. For one such month as Heaven allowed me here. Whilst glory, pleasure, folly, love, are rife; Whilst Hope is beaming forth with long, long ray; In some brief moments whilst one spends a life ; At twenty, e'en the garret must be gay ! LINES WRITTEN IN THE ALBUM OP MADAME AMEDEE DE V***. Long may this album of a songster tell. Whose ripened age his tender tone belies ; Who saw in thee grace, goodness, candour dwell. And was, one moment, duped by thy bright eyes. Through love ? Ah ! no — love could no more beguile ; But by thy flattering notice led astray. He deemed that Beauty's smile Was Glory's ray ! 276 ENCORE DES AMOURS. Je me disais : Tons les dieux du bel age M'ont ddaiss^ ; me voila seul et vieux. Adieu I'espoir que leur troupe volage M'avait donne de me fermer les yeux. Je le disais, lorsqu'une enchanteresse Vient et d'un mot ravit mes sens troubles. Ah ! c'est encor quelque beautd traitresse : Tous les Amours ne sont pas envol^s. Oui, c'est encor quelque sujet de peine ; Mais du repos je suis si fatigud ! Lorsqu'a trente ans je pliais sous ma chaine, Plus malheureux, pourtant j'etais plus gai. Le ciel m'envoie une reine nouvelle ; Combien d'attraits les siens m'ont rappelds ! Roses d'automne, efFeuillez-vous pour elle : Tous les Amours ne sont pas envol^s. Mes yeux encore ont des pleurs a rdpandre; Ma voix encore a des chants amoureux. Aimons, chantons. La beaute vient nj'apprendre A triompher des hivers rigoureux. Tout me sourit : les fleurs brillent plus belles, Les jours plus purs, les cieux plus ^toil^s. Dans I'air plus doux j'entends battre des ailes: Tous les Amours ne sont pas envol^s. 277 MORE LOVES. Once I was musing, " I am old and lone ; Those gods have left me, whom in youth we hail : The hope they gave me is for ever gone ; To close mine eyes that fickle troop will fail." Lo ! as I speak, a fairy comes, and smiles ; At her first word my ravished senses play; Ah ! 'tis again some beauty full of wiles — Not all, not all the Loves have flown away ! Yes, it may prove once more a source of pain. But this repose is wearisome to bear ; Bowed down, at thirty, by a galling chain. More joyous was I, though I felt more care. Oh, to my memory what old charms recur. With this new queen, whom Heaven hath sent to-day ! Roses of autumn ! shed your leaves for her — Not all, not all the Loves have flown away ! Still with some tears mine eyes at times are fraught ; Still can my voice some amorous ditties pour. Love we, and sing ! By Beauty am I taught To brave the storms that Winter hath in store. All smiles around : each flower more brightly blooms ; The day more pure, the sky with stars more gay ; Through softer airs I hear their rustling plumes — Not all, not all the Loves have flown away I 278 LES CONTREBANDIERS. Malheur ! malheur aux commis ! A nous, bonheur et richesse ! Le peuple a nous s'intdresse ; II est de nos amis. Oui, le peuple est partout de nos amis ; Oui, le peuple est partout, partout de nos amis. II est minuit. C^, qu'on me suive, Hommes, pacotille et mulets. Marchons, attentifs au qui vive, Armons fusils et pistolets. Les douaniers sont en nombre ; Mais le plomb n'est pas cher ; Et Ton salt que dans I'ombre Nos balles verront clair, Malheur ! malheur aux commis ! A nous, bonheur et richesse ! Le peuple a nous s'interesse ; II est de nos amis. Oui, le peuple est partout de nos amis ; Oui, le peuple est partout, partout de nos amis. Camarades, la noble vie ! Que de hauts faits a publier ! Combien notre belle est ravie Quand I'or pleut dans son tablier ! Chateau, maison, cabane. Nous sont ouverts partout. Si la loi nous condamne, Le peuple nous absout. Malheur ! malheur aux commis ! A nous, bonheur et richesse ! 279 THE SMUGGLERS. Here's a plague on the Custom-House train ! Pleasure and wealth be it ours to gain ! We have the people on our side ; They are our friends at heart : Yes, yes, the people far and wide. The people take our part ! 'Tis midnight : Ho ! to follow me prepare Our mules, our ventures, all our trusty crew ; Forward ! and listen for the " Who goes there ?" The charge in pistol and in gun renew. The excisemen all are in full force arrayed ; But lead's not dear : And well 'tis known, that in the thickest shade Our balls see clear. Here's a plague on the Custom-House train ! Pleasure and wealth be it ours to gain ! We have the people on our side; They are our friends at heart : Yes, yes, the people far and wide. The people take our part ! Comrades, how noble is this life of ours ! What high achievements are there to be told ! How is our fair one gladdened, when in showers To fill her apron we rain down the gold ! Castle, and house, and cottage in our cause Are all unbarred : The people will absolve us, if the laws Should press us hard. Here's a plague on the Custom-House train ! Pleasure and wealth be it ours to gain ! 280 LES CONTREBANDIERS. Le peuple a nous s'interesse ; II est de nos amis. Oui, le peuple est partout de nos amis ; Oui, le peuple est partout, partout de nos amis. Bravant neige, froid, pluie, orage, Au bruit des torrents nous dormons. Ah ! qu'on aspire de courage, Dans Pair pur du sommet des monts. Cimes a nous connues Cent fois vous nous voyez, La tete dans les nues, Et la mort sous nos pieds. Malheur ! malheur aux commis ! A nous, bonheur et richesse ! Lc peuple a nous s'interesse ; II est de nos amis. Oui, le peuple est partout de nos amis ; Oui, le peuple est partout, partout de nos amis. Aux dchanges I'homme s'exerce ; Mais I'impot barre les chemins. Passons : c'est nous qui du commerce Tiendrons la balance en nos mains. Partout la Providence Veut, en nous prot^geant, Niveler I'abondance, Eparpiller I'argent. Malheur ! malheur aux commis ! A nous, bonheur et richesse ! Le peuple a nous s'intdresse ; II est de nos amis, Oui, le peuple est partout de nos amis ; Oui, le peuple est partout, partout de nos amis. THE SMUGGLERS. 281 We have the people on our side ; They are our friends at heart : Yes, yes, the people far and wide. The people take our part ! Braving the snow, the cold, the rain, the storm, } Lulled by the roar of torrents, we can sleep : ■) Ah, how those breezes can the courage warm. That o'er the mountain-tops so purely sweep ! , * Hundreds of times, thn riflgrm Ihnili irn kniir ^^"^ J^^ ^* 'f^^ Our passage greet : '*''" Our heads are in the clouds, and Death below Yawns at our feet ! Here's a plague on the Custom-House train ! Pleasure and wealth be it ours to gain ! We have the people on our side ; They are our friends at heart : Yes, yes, the people far and wide. The people take our part ! Man might his barter have convenient made. But taxes blocking up the roads abound ; Then forward on our way ! for such is trade. That in our hands its balance must be found. Heaven, shielding us from ills that might befall. Works out its views — To bring down plenty to the reach of all. And wealth diifuse. Here's a plague on the Custom-House train f Pleasure and wealth be it ours to gain ! We have the people on our side; They are our friends at heart : Yes, yes, the people far and wide. The people take our part ! 282 LES CONTREBANDIERS. Nos gouvernants, pris de vertige, Des biens du ciel triplant le taux, Font mourir le fruit sur sa tige, Du travail brisent les marteaux. Pour qu'au loin il abreuve Le sol et 1' habitant, Le bon Dieu cree un fleuve ; lis en font un etang. Malheur ! malheur aux commis ! A nous, bonheur et richesse ! Le peuple a nous s'interesse ; II est de nos amis. Oui, le peuple est partout de nos amis ; Oui, le peuple est partout, partout de nos amis. Quoi ! I'on veut qu'uni de langage, Aux memes lois long-temps soumis, Tout peuple qu'un traits partage Forme deux peuples d'ennemis. Non ; grace a notre peine, lis ne vont pas en vain Filer la meme laine, Sourire au meme vin. Malheur ! malheur aux commis ! A nous, bonheur et richesse ! Le peuple a nous s'interesse ; II est de nos amis. Oui, le peuple est partout de nos amis ; Oui, le peuple est partout, partout de nos amis. A. la frontiere oil I'oiseau vole, Rien ne lui dit : Suis d'autres lois. L'dt^ vient tarir la rigole Qui sert de limite a deux rois. Prix du sang qu'ils rdpandent, La, leurs droits sont pergus. Ces bornes qu'ils defendent, Nous sautons par-dessus. THE SMUGGLERS. 283 Our rulers seized with jii1rliiini\ who now Triple their tax on all Heaven kindly yields. Condemn the fruit to wither on the bough. And break the hammer that the labourer wields. They fo/ their fish-ponds would the rivers take, That from God's hand Came forth, in their long course the thirst to slake Of man and land. Here's a plague on the Custom-House train ! Pleasure and wealth be it ours to gain ! We have the people on our side ; They are our friends at heart : Yes, yes, the people far and wide. The people take our part ! What ! 'tis their will, that where one tongue is spoken. Where the same laws long time have been obeyed. Because some treaty may such bonds have broken. Two hostile nations should at once be made ! But no — for, thanks to our exertions, vain Is that design ; The self-same fleeces shall they spin, and drain The self-same wine. ' Here's a plague on the Custom-House train ! Pleasure and wealth be it ours to gain ! We have the people on our side ; They are our friends at heart : Yes, yes, the people far and wide. The people take our part ! The little birds, that to the frontier fly. Find nought to bid them other laws obey : A summer's sun, perchance, the trench may dry. That marks the limits of two moniirchs' sway. T4>«»ro-<4»^y-^>wwm l^iviiii , | ] |i|| ii|| |il HlTrijrl i|TnTnl_ 284 LE PROVERBE. Malheur ! malheur aux comtnis ! A nous, bonheur et richesse ! Le peuple a nous s'interesse : II est de nos amis. Oui, le peuple est partout de nos amis ; Oui, le peuple est partout, partout de nos amis. On nous chante dans nos campagnes. Nous, dont le fusil redoutd En frappant l¥cho des montagnes Pent r^veiller la liberty. Quand tombe la patrie Sous des voisins altiers, Mourante elle s'dcrie : A moi, contrebandiers ! Malheur ! malheur aux commis ! A nous, bonheur et richesse ! Le peuple a nous s'interesse : II est de nos amis. Oui, le peuple est partout de nos amis ; Oui, le peuple est partout, partout de nos amis. LE PROVERBE. Epris jadifl d'une princesse, Alain vit son coeur r^jet^; Simple ^cuyer, n^ sans noblesse, Comme un vilain il fut traitd. La princesse avait une dame. Dame d'honneur, fleur au d^clin Alain lui transporte sa flamme, II est traitfj comme un vilain. THE PROVERB. 285 Here's a plague on the Custom-House train ! Pleasure and wealth be it ours to gain ! We have the people on our side ; They are our friends at heart : Yes, yes, the people far and wide. The people take our part ! Song for her theme our deeds will often take, Whose deadly guns such terror spread around. That whilst they bid the mountain echoes wake. Freedom herself may waken at their sound. When haughty neighbours strike, and bleeding, low Our country lies. Her dying words are, " To the rescue, ho ! Smugglers, arise!" Here's a i)lague on the Custom-House train ! Pleasure and wealth be it ours to gain ! We have the people on our side ; They are our friends at heart : Yes, yes, the people far and wide. The people take our part ! THE PROVERU. Alain a princess did admire. But saw his hopes defeated ; Ignobly bom, a simple squire. He like a serf was treated. The princess had her stately dame, A flower whose bloom had fleeted; Alain to her transports his flame. But like a serf is treated. 286 LES TOMBEAUX DE JUILLET. La dame avait une suivante Qui tenait a la qualite. En vain de lui plaire il se vante; Comme un vilain il est traite. La suivante avait sa soubrette : Celle-ci cede au pauvre Alain ; Surprise, tant bien il la traitd, Qu'on I'ait traits comme un vilain. La suivante, qu'un mot ^claire, Court apres Alain mieux goute; La dame a son tour veut lui plaire, Comme un baron il est traite; La princesse enfin, moins superbe, Ouvre au galant ses draps de lin. Depuis lors, adieu le proverbe, Qui dit: traite comme un vilain. LES TOMBEAUX DE JUILLET. 1832. Des fleurs, enfants, vous dont les mains sent pures; Enfants, des fleurs, des palmes, des flambeaux! De nos Trois-Jours omez les sepultures. Comme les rois le peuple a ses tombeaux. Charles avait dit: " Que juillet qui sMcoule Venge mon trone en butte aux niveleurs. Victoire aux lis !" Soudain Paris en foule S'arme et re'pond : Victoire aux trois couleurs! Pour parler haut, pour nous trouver timides. Par quels exploits fascinez-vous nos yeux ? N'imitez pas I'homme des Pyramides: Dans son linceul tiendraient tons vos a'ieux. THE TOMBS OF JULY. 287 J The dame, too, had her wM^n^maid, j Who none but nobles greeted; j In vain to her his court he paid ; \ He like a serf was treated. ) But when her under-maid he meets. She finds her bliss completed ; //ia' jia l «o H i jjl pu ii i l>l.ii] i -lnmas S,vji^'4 eUy J<*^e* Ae^ Jo jLo/t ho) he like serf was treated. ^ ^^ The y»iting-maid fiatiiiBcdees- burn ; She hears his charms repeated : .1 The dame now courts him m l»r turn ; ^ He's like a baron treatea. ^ At last the princess, with less pride, 1 To him her favours meted ; \ Then was the proverb cast aside, " He like a serf is treated." THE TOMBS OF JULY. 1832. Children, let flowers in your pure hands be borne ! Palm -leaves, and flowers, and torches, children, bring! Of our Three Days the funeral rites adorn : All have their tombs — the People as the King! Charles spake : " It wanes, but, oh, may this July Avenge my throne, that levellers attack; Strike for the Lilies ! " Paris quick reply, " Strike for the Tricolor!" in arms gave back. To threaten loud, to find us crouching low. What deeds of thine to blind our eyes are told ? Him of the Pyramids ape not ! Ah ! no — All, all thy sires his winding-sheet would hold. 288 LES TOMBEAUX DE JUILLET. Quoi ! d'une Charte on noiis a fait I'aumone, Et sous le joug vous voulez nous courber! Nous Savons tous comment s'ecroule un trone. Dieu juste ! encore un roi qui veut tomber. Car une voix qui vient d'en haut, sans doute, Au fond du coeur nous crie : Egalitd ! LMgalit^? c'est peut-etre une route Qu'aux malheureux ferme la royautd. Marchons! marchons! A nous I'Hotel-de- Ville ! A nous les quais ! a nous le Louvre ! a nous ! . Entres vainqueurs dans le royal asile, Sur le vieux trone ils se sont assis tous. Qu'un peuple est grand, qui, pauvre, gai, modeste, Seul maitre, apres tant de sang et d'efforts, Chasse en riant des princes qu'il deteste, Et de I'^tat garde a jeun les tresors ! Des fleurs, enfants, vous dont les mains sont pures; Enfants, des fleurs, des palmes, des flambeaux ! De nos Trois-Jours ornez les sepultures. Comme les rois le peuple a ses tombeaux. Des artisans, des soldats de la Loire, Des ^coliers s'essayant au canon, Sont tomb^s la, vous l^guant leur victoire. Sans penser meme a nous dire leur nom. A ces hdros la France doit un temple. Leur gloire au loin inspire un saint effroi. Les rois que trouble un aussi grand exemple. Tout bas ont dit ; Q,u'est-ce aujourd'hui qu'un roi? Voit-on venir le drapeau tricolore ? Rdpdtent-ils, de souvenirs remplis. Et sur leur front ce drapeau semble encore Jeter d'en haut les ombres de ses plis. THE TOMBS OF JULY. 289 What! of a Charter we received the boon, And to thy yoke thou wouldst subdue us all ! We know that thrones are shaken down full soon ; Just God ! again a king who courts his fall ! For, hark ! a voice, from Heaven beyond dispute. Deep in our hearts " Equality" hath cried. What means Equality ? perchance, a route By royal order to the weak denied ! On ! let us march ! ours is the H6tel-de-Ville ! Ours are the Quays ! the Louvre is ours ! our ovm ! Triumphant crowds the royal refuge fill. And take their seats upon the ancient throne. O noble people ! modest, poor, and gay ! Masters by bloodshed and by toil so great; Who hated princes, laughing, drive away; And, starving, guard the treasures of the state ! Children, let flowers in your pure hands be borne! Palm-leaves, and flowers, and torches, children, bring ! Of our Three Days the funeral rites adorn : All have their tombs — the People as the King ! There, soldiers of the Loire — there, labouring men — There, scholars, tyros at the cannon, fell; To you their victory bequeathed they then, Nor cared that ought to us their names should tell. France to these heroes doth a temple owe; Their fame afar a holy awe excites; " How fares it now with kings ?" Kings whisper low. Whom an example so sublime aff'rights. " What ! must the Tricolor return ?" they cry. Their memories still reverting to the past; And o'er them seems that standard from on high Again the shadow of its folds to cast, c c 290 LES TOMBEAUX DE JUILLET. En paix voguant de royaume en royaume, A Sainte-Helene en sa course il atteint. Napoleon, gigantesque fantome, Parait debout sur ce volcan dteint. A son tombeau la main de Dieu I'enleve. " Je t'attendais, mon drapeau glorieux. Salut !" II dit, brise et jette son glaive Dans Tocean, et se perd dans les cieux. Dernier conseil de son gdnie austere ! Du glaive en lui finit la royaut^. Le conquerant des sceptres de la terre Pour successeur choisit la Liberty Des fleurs, enfants, vous dont les mains sont pures ; Enfants, des fleurs, des palmes, des flambeaux ! De nos Trois-Jours ornez les sepultures. Comme les rois le peuple a ses tombeaux, Des corrupteurs la faction titre'e Ddserte en vain cet humble monument; En vain compare a IVmeute enivr^e De nos vengeiirs le noble ddvouement. Enfants, en reve, on dit qu'avec les anges Vous ^changez, la nuit, les plus doux mots. De I'avenir prddisez les louanges. Pour consoler ces ames de heros. Dites-leur : Dieu veille sur votre ouvrage. Par nos erreurs ne vous laissez troubler, Du coup qu'ici frappa votre courage. La terre encore a long-temps a trembler. Mais dans nos murs foudrait I'Europe entiire, Qu'au prompt depart de vingt peuples rivaux, La liberty naitrait de la poussiere Qu'emporteraient les pieds de leurs chevaux. THE TOMBS OF JULY. 291 As on, from realm to realm, in peace it flew. Before St. Helena its course was stayed ; There on the extinct volcano rose in view A giant phantom — 'twas Napoleon's shade. The hand of God uplifts him from the grave. " For thee I looked, my glorious flag !" he cries ; " Welcome !" he speaks ; and flinging to the wave His broken sword, mounts upward to the skies. This the last lesson his stem genius gave ! The sword's dominion found with him its close. Endued with power earth's sceptres to enslave. For his successor Liberty he chose. Children, let flowers in your pure hands be borne ! Palm-leaves, and flowers, and torches, children, bring ! Of our Three Days the funeral rites adorn : All have their tombs — the People as the King ! The titled JM^ to corruption prone, For this poor monument may little care ; The noble zeal by our avengers shown To some mad tumult vainly may compare. Children, 'tis said, that ye, in dreams by night. Gentlest communion with the angels hold : Foretell a future, then, with praises bright. That so these heroes' spirits be consoled. Tell them, " God's eye upon your work is set; No sad forebodings from our errors feel ; Long time, long time, hath Earth to tremble yet. Beneath the blow your courage here could deal." Yes, thundering at our walls should Europe bring Her score of nations — at their prompt retreat. Forth from the dust they bore would Freedom spring. The dust that gathered on their horses' feet. 292 COUPLET. Partout luira IMgalit^ feconde. Les vieilles lois errent sur des debris. Le monde ancien finit : d'un nouveau monde La France est reine, et son Louvre est Paris. A vous, enfants, ce fruit des Trois-Journdes. Ceux qui sent la vous frayaient le chemin. Le sang franyais des grandes destinees 'Trace en tout temps la route au genre humaiu. Des fleurs, enfants, vous dont les mains sont pares ; Enfants, des fleurs, des palmes, des flambeaux ! De nos Trois-Jours ornez les sdpultures. Comme les rois le peuple a ses tombeaux. COUPLET. J'ai suivi plus d'enterrements Que de noces et de baptemes; J'ai distrait bien des coeurs aimants Des maux qu'ils aggravaient eux-memes. Mon Dieu, vous m'avez bien dot^ : Je n'ai ni force ni sagesse; Mais je possede une gaitd Qui n'offense point la tristesse. VERSES. 293 All earth shall wear Equality's bright hue; Old laws are lost amidst a ruined scene. The Ancient World hath perished — of the New, With Paris for her Louvre, is France the Queen ! Of these Three Days yours, children, is the fruit ; They, who lie there, for you the path did trace : The blood of France hath ever marked the route. That to great ends conducts the human race. Children, let flowers in your pure hands be borne ! Palm-leaves, and flowers, and torches, children, bring ! Of our Three Days the funeral rites adorn : All have their tombs — the People as the King ! VERSES. Oftener have I been seen in funeral train. Than at the nuptial or baptismal fete : From many loving hearts I've chased the pain. That they themselves would fondly aggravate. Richly, O God! by thee have I been blessed. Nor power nor wisdom falling to my lot : A fund of gaiety have I possessed, That sorrow's mourning spirit injured not. cc2 294 MON TOMBEAU. Moi, bien portant; quoi! vous pensez d'avance A m'eriger une tombe a grands frais ! Sottise ! amis ; point de folle d^pense ; Laissez aux grands le faste des regrets. Avec le prix ou du marbre ou du cuivre, Pour un gueux mort habit cent fois trop beau, Faites acjfiat d'un vin qui pousse a vivre ; Buvons gaiment I'argent de mon tombeau. A votre bourse un galant mausol^e Pourrait coiiter vingt mille francs et plus. Sous le ciel pur d'une riche vallee, Allons six mois vivre en joyeux reclus. Concerts et bals oii la beautd convie, Vont de plaisirs nous meubler un chateau, Je veux risquer de trop aimer la vie; Mangeons gaiment I'argent de mon tombeau. Mais je vieillis, et ma maitresse est jeune. Or il lui faut des parures de prix. L'^clat du luxe adoucit un long jeune ; T^moin Longchamps ou brille tout Paris. Vous devez bien quelque chose a ma belle. D'un cachemire elle attend le cadeau. En viager sur un coeur si fidele Plapons gaiment I'argent de mon tombeau. Non, mes amis, au spectacle des ombres Je ne veux point d'une lege d'honneur. Voyez ce pauvre, au teint pale, aux yeux sombresj Pres de mourir, ah ! qu'il goute au bonheur ! A ce vieillard, qui, las de sa besace, Doit avant moi voir lever le rideau. Pour qu'au parterre il me garde une place, Donnons gaiment I'argent de mon tombeau. 295 MY TOMB. What! whilst I'm well, beforehand, you design. At vast expense, for me to build a shrine ? Friends, 'tis absurd ! to no such outlay go ; Leave to the great the pomp and pride of woe. Take what for marble or for brass would pay. For a dead beggar garb by far too gay, And buy life-stirring wine on my behalf: The silver of my tomb right gaily let us quaff! A mausoleum worthy of my thanks At least would cost you twenty thousand francs. Come, for six months, rich vale and balmy sky. As gay recluses, be it ours to try. Concerts and balls, where Beauty's self invites. Shall furnish us our castle of delights ; I'll run the risk of finding life too sweet: The silver of my tomb right gaily let us eat ! But old I grow, though young my mistress fair; To clothe her richly must be now my care. Oft to long fasts a show of wealth resigns — Bear witness Longchamps, where all Paris shines ! You to my fair one something surely owe; A Cashmere shawl she's looking for, I know : 'Twere well for life on such a faithful breast The silver of my tomb right gaily to invest ! No box of state, my friends, would I engage. For mine own use, where spectres tread the stage. What poor wan man with haggard eyes is this? Soon must he die! ah, let him taste of bliss! The veteran first should the raised curtain see — There in the pit to keep a place for me, (Tired of his wallet, long he cannot live). The silver of my tomb to him let's gaily give ! 296 Qu'importe a moi, que mon nom sur la pierre Soit d^chifFrd par un futur savant ? Et quant aux fleurs qu'on promet a ma biere, Mieux vaut, je crois, les respirer vivant. Post^rite, qui peux bieii ne pas naitre, A me chercher n'use point ton flambeau. Sage mortel, j'ai su par la fenetre Jeter gaiment I'argent de mon tombeau. BONSOIR. COUPLETS A M. LAISNEY, IMFRIMEUR A PEAONNE. Mon cher Laisney, trinquons, trinquons encore A nos beaux jours promptement dcoules. Comme ils sont loin les feux de notre aurore ! Que de plaisirs avec eux envoles ! Mais de regrets faut-il qu'on se repaisse? Non ; la gaitd nourrit encor I'espoir. Mon vieil ami, quand pour nous le jour baisse, Souhaitons-nous un gai bonsoir. Cinquante hi vers ont passd sur ta tete ; J'ai de bien pres chemine sur tes pas. Mais ces hivers ont eu leurs jours de fete, Tout ne fut point aquilons et frimas. Aurions-nous mieux employe la jeunesse, Ve'cu moins vite avec un riche avoir ? Mon vieil ami, quand pour nous le jour baisse, Souhaitons-nous un gai bonsoir. OOOU-MGHT. 297 What doth it boot me, that some learned eye May Bpell my name on gravestone by and by ? As to the flowers they promise for my bier, I'd rather, living, scent their perfume here. And thou, posterity ! that ne'er mayst be, yiCaJtil- t^ not thy torch in seeking signs of me ! Like a wise man, I deemed that I wjis bound The silver of my tomb to scatter gaily round ! GOOD-NIGHT. VERSES ADDRESSED TO MR. LAISNEY, PRINTER AT PEROMNE. It was in the office of Mr. Laisney that Beranger was appren- ticed. He says himself, that being incapable of learning or- thography, his master inspired him with a love of the Muse, gave him lessons in versification, and corrected some of hin first attempts. Drink, my dear Laisney, drink; our youth inspires One bumper more, our youth that would not stay. Of our lives' da\vn how distant are the fires ! How many a pleasure died with them away ! But, as 'twere feasting, must we then repine? No — hope through gaiety beams forth, still bright. My dear old friend, let day for us decline — Gaily we'll bid good-night ! Closely my steps have followed on thine own. Whilst o'er thy head have fifty winters past; Those winters many a festival have known ; All was not hoar-frost, and the northern blast. Could we to youth a better course assign 'i Could we so rich have tried a slower flight? My dear old friend, let day for us decline — Gaily we'll bid good-night ! 298 LE JUIF ERRANT. Dans I'art des vers c'est toi qui fus mon maitre : Je t'etfa9ai sans te rendre jaloux. Si les seuls fruits que pour nous Dieu fit naitre Sont des chansons, ces fruits sent assez doux. Dans nos refrains que le passe renaisse; L'illusion nous rendra son miroir. Mon vieil ami, quand pour nous le jour baisse, Souliaitons-nous un gai bonsoir. Reposons-nous; car les Amours, sans doute. Pour qui jadis nous avons tant marche, Nous criraient tons, s'ils nous trouvaient en route: AUez dormir, le soleil est couche. Mais I'Amitie', I'ombre fut-elle ^paisse, Vient allumer nos lampes pour y voir. Mon vieil ami, quand pour nous le jour baisse, Souhaitons-nous un gai bonsoir. LE JUIF ERRANT. Chretien, au voyageur souffrant Tends un verre d'eau sur ta porte. Je suis, je suis le Juif errant, Qu'un tourbillon toujours emporte. Sans vieillir, accabld de jours, La fin du monde est mon seal reve. Chaque soir j'espere toujours; Mais toujours le soleil se leve. Toujours, toujours, Tourne la terre ou moi je cours, Toujours, toujours, toujours, toujours. THE WANDERING JEW. 299 Thou wert my master in the poet's art; ' Yet never jealous, couldst my triumphs greet. If the sole fruit God did to us impart ? Be songs, to us such fruit is passing sweet ! 3 Old times again shall in our chorus shine ; i^ Illusion's mirror shall reflect their light. ', My dear old friend, let day for us decline — •? Gaily we'll bid good-night ! i i Let us repose — the Loves, we can't deny, ^ For whom so far we trudged in other days, | If they should meet us on the road, would cry, " Go sleep ; the sun hath shed his parting rays!" ', But Friendship comes, though thickest shades combine. And lights our lamps, and aids our baffled sight. -i My dear old friend, let day for us decline — Gaily we'll bid good-night ! j THE WANDERING JEW. Christian ! a fainting traveller to restore. Oh, place a cup of water at thy door ! I am, in sooth I am, that Wandering Jew, Whom aye a whirlwind urgeth on anew. Ne'er growing old, howe'er by age opprest. With the world's end my only dream of rest ; Aye, when eve cometh, to fresh hopes I cling. But aye the morrow doth new sunbeams bring ! Ever, ever, evermore. Ever where I press the ground. Ever, ever, evermore. Ever doth the earth go round. 300 LE JUIF ERRANT. Depuis dix-huit siecles, helas ! Sur la ceiidre grecque et romaine, Sur les debris de mille 6tats, L'affreux tourbillon me promene. J'ai vu sans fruit germer le bien, Vu des calamit^s fecondes ; Et pour survivre au monde ancien, Des flots j'ai vu sortir deux mondcs. Toujours, toujours, Tourne la terre oii nioi je cours, Toujours, toujours, toujours, toujours. Dieu m'a change pour me punir : A tout ce qui meurt je m'attache. Mais du toit pret a me benir Le tourbillon soudain m'arrache. Plus d'un pauvre vient implorer Le denier que je puis rdpandre. Qui n'a pas le temps de serrer La main qu'en passant j'aime a tendre. Toujours, toujours, Tourne la terre ou moi je cours, Toujours, toujours, toujours, toujours. Seul, au pied d'arbustes en fleurs, Sur le gazon, au bord de I'onde, Si je repose mes douleurs, J 'en tends le tourbillon qui gronde. Eh ! qu'importe au del irrit^ Get instant passd sous I'ombrage ? Faut-il moins que I'^temitd Pour d^lasser d'un tel voyage ? Toujours, toujours, Tourne la terre ou moi je cours, Toujours, toujours, toujours, toujours. THF. WANDERING JEW. 301 Whilst eighteen hundred years have held their way. O'er ashes left by Greek and Roman sway. O'er ruins of a thousand states, alas ! The fearful whirlwind still hath made me pass. Good have I seen, whose buds would bear no fruit ; Seen far and wide calamities take root ; And, to survive the ancient world, mine eyes Have seen two worlds from out the waves arise. Ever, ever, evermore, Ever where I press the ground, Ever, ever, evermore. Ever doth the earth go round. God's hand hath changed me that he might chastise ; Fain would I bind myself to all that dies ; But from each kind and hospitable roof The sudden whirlwind hurries me aloof: And many a beggar hath to me appealed For such assistance as 'tis mine to yield. Who had not time to clasp the friendly hand, I love to stretch in hastening through the land. Ever, ever, evermore. Ever where I press the ground. Ever, ever, evermore. Ever doth the earth go round. If at the foot of flowering shrubs, alone. By gentle waters, on the green sward thrown, For one short moment I my woes forget, I hear the whirlwind that is raving yet. Ah ! whj' should Heaven, by thoughts of vengeance swayed. Begrudge one instant passed beneath the shade ? What but a whole eternity of rest. After such toils, could make the Wanderer blest ? Ever, ever, evermore. Ever where I press the ground. Ever, ever, evermore. Ever doth the earth go round, D 1) 302 I,E JUIF ERRANT. Que des enfants vifs et joyeux Des miens me retracent Timage ; Si j'en veux repaitre mes yeux, Le tourbillon souffle avec rage. Vieillards, osez-vous a tout prix M'envier ma longue carriere ? Ces enfants a qui je souris, Men pied balaiera leur poussiere. Toujours, toujours, Toume la terre ou moi je cours, Toujours, toujours, toujours, toujours. Des murs, ou je suis n^ jadis, Retrouvd-je encor quelque trace ; Pour m'arreter je me roidis ; Mais le tourbillon me dit : " Passe ! Passe !" et la voix me crie aussi : " Reste debout quand tout succombe. Tes aieux ne font point ici Garde de place dans leur tombe." Toujours, toujours, Toume la terre ou moi je cours, Toujours, toujours, toujours, toujours. J'outrageai d'un rire inhumain L'homme-dieu respirant a peine .... Mais sous mes pieds fuit le chemin ; Adieu, le tourbillon m'entraine. Vous qui manquez de charitd, Tremblez a mon supplice dtrange : Ce n'est point sa divinity, C'est rhumanit^ que Dieu venge. Toujours, toujours, Toume la terre oii moi je cours, Toujours, toujours, toujours, toujours. THE WANDERING JEW. 303 How oft do children with their gay glad tone To me bring back the image of mine own ! But when mine eyes I feast upon that sight, The angry whirlwind howleth in its might. Ye, who are old, at any price can ye My long career with envy dare to see ? Those joyous children mark — yet but a while. My feet shall sweep their dust on whom I smile ! Ever, ever, evermore, Ever where I press the ground. Ever, ever, evermore. Ever doth the earth go round. If I perchance some traces should behold Of the loved walls, where I was bom of old. Stiffly I set myself to halt — but no — Still the harsh whirlwind bids me onward go. " On !" cries the voice ; and furthermore doth call, " Rest standing thou, whilst all around thee fall : Here in the tomb where thy forefathers sleep. No place for thee beside them could they keep." Ever, ever, evermore. Ever where I press the ground. Ever, ever, evermore. Ever doth the earth go round. Yes, I, ah me ! a jest inhuman passed On Him, the Man-God, as he breathed his last But, lo ! beneath my feet my pathway flies ; Farewell ! its force the restless whirlwind plies. Ye, who to kindly charities are cold. My fearful punishment with awe behold ! Not the offended Majesty of God, But wronged humanity provokes the rod. Ever, ever, evermore, Ever where I press the ground. Ever, ever, evermore, Ever doth the earth go round. 304 MON HABIT. Sois-Moi fidele, 6 pauvre habit que j'aime ! Ensemble nous devenons vieux. i Depuis dix ans je te brosse moi-meme, Et Socrate n'eiit pas fait mieux, Quand le sort a ta mince dtofFe Livrerait de nouveaux combats, Imite-moi, resiste en philosophe : Mon vieil ami, ne nous separons pas. Je me souviens, car j'ai bonne m^moire, Du premier jour oii je te mis. C'e'tait ma fete, et, pour comble de gloire, Tu fus chants par mes amis. Ton indigence, qui m'honore, ; Ne m'a point banni de leurs bras. Tons ils sont prets a nous feter encore : Mon vieil ami, ne nous sdparons pas. A ton reversj'admire une reprise; C'est encore un doux souvenir. Feignant un soir de fuir la tendre Lise, Je sens sa main me retenir. , On te d^chire, et cet outrage < Aupres d'elle enchaine mes pas. Lisette a mis deux jours a tant d'ouvrage : Mon vieil ami, ne nous separons pas. ■ T 'ai-je impregnd des flots de muse et d'ambre, ) Qu'un fat exhale en se mirant ? j M'a-t-on jamais vu dans une antichambre > T'exposer au mfSpris d'un grand ? '" Pour des rubans la France entiere ; Fut en proie a de longs debats ; } La fleur des champs brille a ta boutonniere : j Mon vieil ami, ne nous separons pas. i 305 MY OLD COAT. Be faithful still, O Coat, beloved though poor ! We feel together the approach of age : Ten years my hand hath brushed thee, and no more Could have been done by Socrates the sage. If cruel Fortune to thy threadbare stuff Should new encounters send, Like me, philosophise, to make thee tough : We must not part, old friend ! Good is my memory : I remember well The very time when first 'twas mine to don thee; 'Twas on my birthday, and our pride to swell. In song my comrades passed their comments on thee. Despite thy seedy, creditable air, Their arms they still extend; All still for us their kindly fetes prepare : We must not part, old fnend ! Thou hast a patch behind — I see it yet — Still, still, that scene is treasured in my heart : Feigning one night to fly the fond Lisette, I felt her hand forbid me to depart. This outrage tore thee ; by her gentle side I could not but attend — Two days Lisette to such long work applied : We must not part, old friend ! Have I e'er scented thee with musk and amber. Such as the fop exhales before his glass ? Who hath e'er seen me in an antichamber Make thee await some great man's leave to passf For bits of ribbon's sake, all France, so fair. Long time did discord rend : I in thy button-hole gay field-flowers wear : We must not part, old friend ! dd2 306 SOUVENIRS d'enfance. Ne crains plus tant ces jours de courses vaines, Ou notre destin fut pareil ; Ces jours mel^s de plaisirs et de peines, Meles de pluie et de soleil. Je dois bientot, il me semble, Mettre pour jamais habit bas. Attends un peu : nous finirons ensemble : Mon vieil ami, ne nous separons pas. A MADEMOISELLE ***», EM LUI £KVOYANT ME3 DERMIERES CHANSONS. AccuEiLLEz-LEs ces chansqfs ou ma Muse Vous peint I'Amour tout pret a m'e'chapper; Vante la Gloire, ombre qui nous abuse, Qu'un jour produit, qu'un jour pent dissiper. L'un est pour vous un dieu sans importance, L'autre s^duit votre esprit hasardeux. Quant a I'Amour, moi, je soutiens, Hortense, Qu'il est encor le moins trompeur des deux. SOUVENIRS D'ENFANCE. 1831. A M£S PARENTS ET AMIS DE PERONNE, VILLE OU j'aI PASS]^ UNE PARTIE DE MA JEUNESSE, DE 1790 A 1796. LiEux OU jadis m'a berce TEspdrance, Je vous revois a plus de cinquante ans. On rajeunit aux souvenire d'enfance, Comme on renait au souffle du printemps. RECOLLECTIONS OF CHILDHOOD. 307 i No longer fear those days of courses vain. In which our destiny alike was fixed — Those days made up of pleasure and of pain. When rain and sunshine were together mixed. Socn must I doff my coat for ever here — That way my thoughts will tend : Wait yet — we'll close together our career : We must not part, old friend ! TO MADEMOISELLE «***, OK SENDING HER MT LAST SONGS. These songs receive, wherein my Muse hath tried To paint Love ready to desert my side; And boasts of Glory, whose misguiding shade A day may dissipate — a day hath made. In one divinity no charm you find. The other captivates your daring mind ! Still, as for Love, Hortense, I hold it true. That he's the less deceitful of the two. RECOLLECTIONS OF CHILDHOOD. 1831. ADDRESSED TO MY RELATIVES AND FRIENDS OF PERONNE, WHERE I PASSED A PART OF MY YOUTH, FROM 17&0 TO 1796. It was at this place that B6rai)ger was struck by lightning, and severely hurt. O SCENES, where Hope my playmate was of yorel At moie than fifty you again I hail: Tokens of childhood can our youth restore. As life feels freshened by Spring's balmy gale. 308 SOUVENIRS d'enfance. Salut ! a V0U8, amis de raou jeune age. Salut ! parents que mon amour benit. Grace a vos soins, ici, pendant Forage, Pauvre oiselet, j'ai pu trouver un nid. Je veux re voir jusqu'a I'etroite geole, Ou pres de niece aux frais et doux appas, Regnait sur nous la vieux maitre d'dcole, Fier d'enseigner ce qu'il ne savait pas. J'ai fait ici plus d'un apprentissage, A la paresse, helas! toujours enclin. Mais je me crus des droits au nom de sage, Lorsqu'on m'apprit le metier de Franklin. C'etait a Page ou nait Tamitie franche, Sol que fleurit un matin plein d'espoir. Un arbre y croit dont souvent une branche Nous sert d'appui pour marcher jusqu'au soir. Lieux oil jadis m'a bercd TEsp^rance, Je vous revois a plus de cinquante ans. On rajeunit aux souvenirs d'enfance, Comme on renait au souffle du printemps. C'est dans ces murs qu'en des jours de ddfaites, De I'ennemi j'dcoutais le canon. Ici ma voix, mel^e aux chants des fetes, De la patrie a bdgay^ le nom. Ame reveuse, aux ailes de colombe, De mes sabots, la, j'oubliais le poids. Du ciel, ici, sur moi la foudre tombe, Et m'apprivoise avec celle des rois. Contre le sort ma raison s'est armee Sous I'humble toit, et vient aux memes lieux Narguer la gloire, inconstante fumee. Qui tire aussi des larmes de nos yeux. RECOLLECTIONS OF CHILDHOOD. 309 Hail to you, hail ! friends of my youthful age ; Hail, kindred, whom my grateful love hath blest : Thanks to your kindness, in the tempest's rage, Poor little bird, 'twas here I found a nest. The narrow prison would I see again. Where, whilst his niece in budding beauty grew. The old schoolmaster o'er us used to reign. And proudly teach us more than e'er he knew. Here, more than once, apprentice was I made; Ever, alas ! to idle ways I turned ; But when they taught me the great Franklin's trade, I deemed that I a sage's name had earned. 'Twds at that age when Friendship purely grows — Soil, that a morning full of hope makes green : Thence springs a tree, that oft till evening's close Yields, as we march, a staff on which to lean. O scenes, where Hope my playmate was of yore! At more than fifty you again I hail : Tokens of childhood can our youth restore. As life feels freshened by Spring's balmy gale. 'Twas in these walls that, on disastrous days, To me the roar of hostile cannon came. Here hath my voice, attuned to festal lays. Been heard full oft to lisp my country's name. Here of my sabots was the weight forgot By dreaming soul, that soared on dove-like wings; To feel Heaven^s thunderbolt was here my lot. That made me heed but little that of kings ! Beneath this humble roof my Reason woke, 'Gainst Fate to arm herself, returning here To laugh at Glory, wreath of transient smoke. That to our eyes, like smoke, doth bring the tear. 310 Amis, parents, temoins de mon aurore, Objets d'un culte avec le temps accru, Oui, mon berceaii me semble doux encore, Et la berceuse a pourtant disparu. Lieux ou jadis m'a bercd rEspe'rance, Je vous revois a plus de cinquante ans. On rajeunit aux souvenirs d'enfance, Comme on renait au souffle du printemps. PASSY. Paris, adieu : je sors de tes murailles. J'ai dans Passy trouve gite et repos. Ton fils t'enleve un droit de fun^railles, Et sa piquette echappe a tes impots. Puisse-je ici vieillir exempt d'orage, Et, de Toubli pres de subir le poids, Comme Toiseau, dormir dans le feuillage, Au bruit mourant des e'chos de ma voix ! 311 Kindred, and friends, who my life's dawn did greet. Objects of love, that Time but knitteth stronger. Yes, yes, my cradle still to me seems sweet, Though she, who rocked it, rocks it now no longer. O scenes, where Hope my playmate was of yore! At more than fifty you again I hail : Tokens of childhood can our youth restore. As life feels freshened by Spring's balmy gale. PASSY. The pretty village of Passy, in the immediate neighbourhood of Paris, is known, by name at least, to all who know that city. The municipal tax on funerals, and the heavy octroi on wines passing the barriers of Paris, must be l)orne in mind by the reader. Paris, adieu ! I issue from thy walls : A nook to rest in is at Passy mine. Thy son escapes thy tax on funerals. And duty-free can sip his modest wine. Here, in oblivion to be wrapped ere long. Exempt from storms, may age upon me creep; And lulled by dying echoes of my song. Bird-like, amidst the foliage may I sleep ! 312 ADIEU, CHANSONS! Pour rajeunir les fleurs de mon trophee, Naguere encor, tendre, docte, ou railleur, J'allais chanter, quand m'apparut la f^e Qui me ber^a chez le bon vieux tailleur. " L'hiver, dit-elle, a souffle sur ta tete : Cherche un abri pour tes soirs longs et froidn. Vingt ans de lutte ont ^puisd ta voix, Qui n'a chantd qu'au bruit de la tempete." Adieu, chansons ! mon front chauve est rid^. L'oiseau se tait; I'aquilon a grond^. " Ces jours sent loin, poursuit-elle, oii ton Ame Comme un clavier modulait tous les airs; Oil la gaitd, vive et rapide flamme, Au ciel obscur prodiguait ses Eclairs. Plus r^tr^ci, I'horizon reste sombre. Des gais amis le long rire a cessd 313 FAREWELL, SONGS! The immense popularity of Bferanger, and his undoubted posi- tion as the " Chansonnier" of France, fully justify the appa- rent tone of self-complacency, with which in this spirited and touching farewell he looks back upon his past career. That in my garland I might make the flowers more freshly blow. Some tender, wise, or witty song, I was, not long ago. About to sing, when all at once the Fairy re-appeared. Who in the good old tailor's shop mine infancy had cheered. " Winter," she cried, " upon thine head hath breathed his chilling blast; Then for thine evenings, long and cold, some shelter seek at last : A score of years of strife and tears thy voice hath worn away. For only mid the tempest's roar that voice would pour its lay." Adieu, then, Songs, adieu ! for bald and wrinkled is my brow; All keenly howls the northern blast — the bird is silent now. " Those days are far," continued she, " when every air thy soul Would modulate, as one key-note can music's tones control ; When lavished was thy gaiety in bright and sudden flame. Whose lightnings, when the sky wajs dark, more brilliant went and came : More narrow now the horizon rests in gloominess pro- found ; Long peals of laughter now no more from joyous friends resound. R K 314 ADIEU, CHANSONS ! Combien la bas ddja font devance ! Lisette meme, hdlas ! n'est plus qu'une ombre." Adieu, chansons ! mon front chauve est rid^. L'oiseau se tait; I'aquilon a gronde. " Be'nis ton sort. Par toi la po^sie A d'un grand peuple emu les derniers rangs. Le chant qui vole a I'oreille saisie, Souffla tes vers, meme aux plus ignorants. Vos orateurs parlent a qui sait lire ; Toi, conspirant tout haut contre les rois, Tu marias, pour ameuter la voix, Des airs de vieille aux accents de la lyre." Adieu, chansons ! mon front chauve est rid^. L'oiseau se tait; I'aquilon a grondd " Tes traits aigus lancds au trone meme, En retombant aussitot ramasseJs, De pres, de loin, par le peuple qui t'aime, Volaient en chceur jusqu'au but relancds. Puis quand ce trone ose brandir son foudre, De vieux fusils I'abattent en trois jours. FAREWELL, SONGS ! 315 How many have preceded thee, and in the tomb are laid ! Lisette herself, alas for her ! is nothing but a shade." Adieu, then, Songs, adieu ! for bald and wrinkled is my brow; All keenly howls the northern blast — the bird is silent now. " But be thou grateful for thy lot ! The Muse doth owe thee thanks. That of a mighty people she hath moved the lowest ranks : The song, that to the ravished ear flies with direct appeal. Hath bruited forth thy verse, which thus the most un- learned feel. Your orators may speeches make to folks who letters know. But openly defying kings, with thee it was not so : For thou, to couple voices well, in marriage didst aspire To join some goody's ancient air with accents of the lyre." Adieu, then. Songs, adieu! for bald and wrinkled is my brow; All keenly howls the northern blast— the bird is silent now. " Thy pointed darts against the throne itself launched forth amain, So soon as they were seen to fall, were gathered up again. And by the people far and near, whose love for thee is fast. Back to the object of their aim in choruses were cast. Then, when that throne was bold enough its thunder- bolt to wield. Old muskets in three days snfiiced to drive it off the field: 316 ADIEU, CHANSONS I Pour tous les coups tir^s dans son velours, Combien ta muse a fabriqu^ de poudre !" Adieu, chansons ! mon front chauve est ridd. L'oiseau se tait; I'aquilon a grond^. " Ta part est belle a ces grandes journe'es, Ou du butin tu d^toumas les yeux. Leur souvenir, couronnant tes ann^es, Te suflBra, si tu sais etre vieux. Aux jeunes gens racontes-en I'histoire ; Guide leur nef ; instruis-les de I'^cueil ; Et de la France, un jour, font-ils I'orgueil, Va rechaufFer ta vieillesse a leur gloire." Adieu, chansons ! mon front chauve est ridd L'oiseau se tait ; I'aquilon a gronde. Ma bonne fde, au seuil du pauvre barde, Oui, vous sonnez la retraite a propos. Pour compagnon, bientot dans ma mansarde, J'aurai I'oubli, pere et fils du repos. Mais a ma mort, t^moins de notre lutte, De vieux Franfais se diront, I'oeil mouille : FAREWELL, SONGS ! 317 Of all the shots that thickly thel«rdid on its velvet fall, How much of powder must thy Muse have furnished for each ball ! " Adieu, then, Songs, adieu ! for bald and wrinkled is my brow; All keealy howls the northern blast — the bird is silent now. " Ay, noble was the part that thou in those great days didst play. When from the booty thou didst turn the victor's eyes away! These recollections, as a crown that thine old age shall wear, Will satisfy thee, if old age thou knowest how to bear. Go then, and let the rising race through thee that history know ; Be thou a pilot to their bark, the rocks and sands to show : And if, perchance, the pride of France, some day, they help to raise. Go, in their beams of glory warm thine own declining days !" Adieu, then, Songs, adieu ! for bald and wrinkled is my brow ; All keenly howls the northern blast — the bird is silent now. Yes, my good Fairy, thou indeed art come in time most meet, To sound before the poor bard's door the signal of re- treat. Soon for companion shall I have within my humble cot Oblivion, that begets repose, and by it is begot. But at my death, some who have seen our discords running high. Frenchmen and veterans, to themselves shall say with moistened eve : 318 ADIEU, CHANSONS ! All ciel, un soir, cette ^toile a brille ; Dieu I'eteignit long-temps avant sa chute. Adieu, chansons ! mon front chauve est ride. L'oiseau se tait ; I'aquilon a gronde. FIN. FAREWELL, SONGS ! 319 " Once shining forth in Heaven at eve that star we can recall, Though God was pleased to quench its light long time before its fall." Adieu, then, Songs, adieu ! for bald and wrinkled is my brow; All keenly howls the northern blast — the bird is silent now. THE END. LONDON: PRINTED BY MOBSON, UCVBY, AND Great New Street, Fetter Lane, Iff j^/V 000100 76b 1 ■t"««iiiisSiiwr^s II'' iw