Certes, no man is rarer than the one
Who can enlarge his soul to duly meet
Great Fortune's smiles and still increasing gifts.
Who can enlarge his soul to duly meet
Great Fortune's smiles and still increasing gifts.
Warner - World's Best Literature - v13 - Her to Hux
where thy mighty hand hath passed, all things must bend!
Priests prayed, the sword estopped blaspheming breath,—
Vainly their cheating book for shield did they extend.
Some infants yet survived, and the unsated steel
Still drinks the life-blood of each whelp of Christian-kind;
To kiss thy sandaled foot, O King, thy people kneel,
And golden circlets to thy victor-ankle bind.
Translation of John L. O'Sullivan.
## p. 7727 (#545) ###########################################
VICTOR HUGO
OLD OCEAN
"J'étais seul près des flots »
COME
STOOD by the waves, while the stars soared in sight;
I
Not a cloud specked the sky, not a sail shimmered bright;
Scenes beyond this dim world were revealed to mine eye;
And the woods, and the hills, and all nature around,
Seemed to question with moody, mysterious sound,
The waves, and the pure stars on high.
And the clear constellations, that infinite throng,
While thousand rich harmonies swelled in their song,
Replying, bowed meekly their diamond blaze;
And the blue waves, which nothing may bind or arrest,
Chorused forth, as they stooped the white foam of their crest,
"Creator! we bless thee and praise! "
Translation of R. C. Ellwood.
PRAYER
"Ma fille, va prier! »
I
OME, child, to prayer; the busy day is done,
A golden star gleams through the dusk of night;
The hills are trembling in the rising mist,
The rumbling wain looms dim upon the sight;
All things wend home to rest; the roadside trees
Shake off their dust, stirred by the evening breeze.
The sparkling stars gush forth in sudden blaze,
As twilight open flings the doors of night;
The fringe of carmine narrows in the west,
The rippling waves are tipped with silver light;
The bush, the path-all blend in one dull gray;
The doubtful traveler gropes his anxious way.
7727
O day! with toil, with wrong, with hatred rife;
O blessed night! with sober calmness sweet:
The sad winds moaning through the ruined tower,
The age-worn hind, the sheep's sad broken bleat-
All nature groans opprest with toil and care,
And wearied craves for rest and love and prayer.
At eve the babes with angels converse hold,
While we to our strange pleasures wend our way;
## p. 7728 (#546) ###########################################
7728
VICTOR HUGO
Each with its little face upraised to heaven,
With folded hands, barefoot kneels down to pray;
At self-same hour with self-same words they call
On God, the common father of them all.
And then they sleep, and golden dreams anon,
Born as the busy day's last murmurs die,
In swarms tumultuous flitting through the gloom,
Their breathing lips and golden locks descry;
And as the bees o'er bright flowers joyous roam,
Around their curtained cradles clustering come.
O prayer of childhood! simple, innocent;
O infant slumbers! peaceful, pure, and light;
O happy worship! ever gay with smiles,
Meet prelude to the harmonies of night:
As birds beneath the wing enfold their head,
Nestled in prayer the infant seeks its bed.
Translation of Henry Highton, M. A.
II
To prayer, my child! and oh, be thy first prayer
For her who many nights with anxious care
Rocked thy first cradle; who took thy infant soul
From heaven and gave it to the world; then rife
With love, still drank herself the gall of life,
And left for thy young lips the honeyed bowl.
And then-I need it more then pray for me!
For she is gentle, artless, true like thee;
She has a guileless heart, brow placid still;
Pity she has for all, envy for none;
Gentle and wise, she patiently lives on;
And she endures, nor knows who does the ill.
-
In culling flowers, her novice hand has ne'er
Touched e'en the outer rind of vice; no snare
With smiling show has lured her steps aside:
On her the past has left no staining mark;
Nor knows she aught of those bad thoughts which, dark
Like shade on waters, o'er the spirit glide.
She knows not - nor mayst thou-the miseries
In which our spirits mingle: vanities,
Remorse, soul-gnawing cares, Pleasure's false show;
## p. 7729 (#547) ###########################################
VICTOR HUGO
7729
Passions which float upon the heart like foam,
Bitter remembrances which o'er us come,
And Shame's red spot spread sudden o'er the brow.
I know life better! When thou'rt older grown
I'll tell thee - it is needful to be known-
-
Of the pursuit of wealth, art, power; the cost,—
That it is folly, nothingness; that shame
For glory is oft thrown us in the game
Of Fortune, chances where the soul is lost.
The soul will change. Although of everything
The cause and end be clear, yet wildering
We roam through life, of vice and error full.
We wander as we go; we feel the load
Of doubt; and to the briers upon the road
Man leaves his virtue, as the sheep its wool.
Then go, go pray for me! And as the prayer
Gushes in words, be this the form they bear:—
"Lord, Lord our Father! God, my prayer attend;
Pardon - Thou art good! Pardon - Thou art great! "
Let them go freely forth, fear not their fate!
Where thy soul sends them, thitherward they tend.
There's nothing here below which does not find
Its tendency. O'er plains the rivers wind,
And reach the sea; the bee, by instinct driven,
Finds out the honeyed flowers; the eagle flies
To seek the sun; the vulture where death lies;
The swallow to the spring; the prayer to Heaven!
And when thy voice is raised to God for me,
I'm like the slave whom in the vale we see
Seated to rest, his heavy load laid by:
I feel refreshed; the load of faults and woe
Which, groaning, I drag with me as I go,
Thy winged prayer bears off rejoicingly!
XIII-484
Pray for thy father! that his dreams be bright
With visitings of angel forms of light,
And his soul burn as incense flaming wide.
Let thy pure breath all his dark sins efface,
So that his heart be like that holy place,
An altar pavement each eve purified!
Translation of C, in Tait's Magazine.
## p. 7730 (#548) ###########################################
VICTOR HUGO
7730
MY THOUGHTS OF YE
«À quoi je songe? »
WH
HAT do I dream of? Far from the low roof
Where now ye are, children, I dream of you;
Of your young heads that are the hope and crown
Of my full summer, ripening to its fall.
Branches whose shadow grows along my wall,
Sweet souls scarce open to the breath of day,
Still dazzled with the brightness of your dawn.
I dream of those two little ones at play,
Making the threshold vocal with their cries,—
Half tears, half laughter, mingled sport and strife,
Like two flowers knocked together by the wind.
Or of the elder two-more anxious thought –
Breasting already broader waves of life,
A conscious innocence on either face,
My pensive daughter and my curious boy.
Thus do I dream, while the light sailors sing,
At even moored beneath some steepy shore,
While the waves, opening all their nostrils, breathe
A thousand sea-scents to the wandering wind,
And the whole air is full of wondrous sounds,
From sea to strand, from land to sea, given back:
Alone and sad, thus do I dream of you.
Children, and house and home, the table set,
The glowing hearth, and all the pious care
Of tender mother, and of grandsire kind;
And while before me, spotted with white sails,
The limpid ocean mirrors all the stars,
And while the pilot from the infinite main
Looks with calm eye into the infinite heaven,
I, dreaming of you only, seek to scan
And fathom all my soul's deep love for you,-
Love sweet and powerful, and everlasting,-
And find that the great sea is small beside it.
Translation in Dublin University Magazine.
## p. 7731 (#549) ###########################################
VICTOR HUGO
7731
NAPOLEON
"Tu domines notre âge; ange ou démon, qu'importe! "
NGEL or demon! thou-whether of light
Α
-
The minister, or darkness - still dost sway
This age of ours; thine eagle's soaring flight
Bears us, all breathless, after it away.
The eye that from thy presence fain would stray,
Shuns thee in vain; thy mighty shadow thrown
Rests on all pictures of the living day,
And on the threshold of our time alone,
Dazzling, yet sombre, stands thy form, Napoleon!
Thus, when the admiring stranger's steps explore
The subject-lands that 'neath Vesuvius be,
Whether he wind along the enchanting shore
To Portici from fair Parthenope,
Or, lingering long in dreamy revery,
O'er loveliest Ischia's od'rous isle he stray,
Wooed by whose breath the soft and am'rous sea
Seems like some languishing sultana's lay,
A voice for very sweets that scarce can win its way:
Him, whether Pæstum's solemn fane detain,
Shrouding his soul with meditation's power;
Or at Pozzuoli, to the sprightly strain
Of tarantella danced 'neath Tuscan tower,
Listening, he while away the evening hour;
Or wake the echoes, mournful, lone, and deep,
Of that sad city, in its dreaming bower
By the volcano seized, where mansions keep
The likeness which they wore at that last fatal sleep;
Or be his bark at Posilippo laid,
While as the swarthy boatman his side
Chants Tasso's lays to Virgil's pleasèd shade,-
Ever he sees throughout that circuit wide,
From shaded nook or sunny lawn espied,
From rocky headland viewed, or flow'ry shore,
From sea and spreading mead alike descried,
The Giant Mount, tow'ring all objects o'er,
And black'ning with its breath th' horizon evermore!
Translation in Fraser's Magazine.
## p. 7732 (#550) ###########################################
7732
VICTOR HUGO
THE RETREAT FROM MOSCOW
"Il neigeait »
T SNOWED. A defeat was our conquest red!
I'
For once, the eagle was hanging its head.
Sad days! The Emperor turned slowly his back
On smoking Moscow, blent orange and black.
The winter burst, avalanche-like to reign
Over the endless blanched sheet of the plain.
Nor chief nor banner in order could keep,—
The wolves of warfare were 'wildered like sheep.
The wings from centre could hardly be known
Through snow o'er horses and carts o'erthrown,
Where froze the wounded. In the bivouacs forlorn
Strange sights and gruesome met the breaking morn:
Mute were the bugles, while the men bestrode
Steeds turned to marble, unheeding the goad.
The shells and bullets came down with the snow
As though the heavens hated these poor troops below.
. Surprised at trembling, though it was with cold,
Who ne'er had trembled out of fear, the veterans bold
Marched stern; to grizzled mustache hoar-frost clung
'Neath banners that in leaden masses hung.
It snowed, went snowing still. And chill the breeze
Whistled upon the grassy endless seas,
Where naked feet on, on forever went,
With naught to eat, and not a sheltering tent.
They were not living troops as seen in war,
But merely phantoms of a dream, afar
In darkness wandering, amid the vapor dim,-
A mystery; of shadows a procession grim,
Nearing a blackening sky, unto its rim.
Frightful, since boundless, solitude behold,
Where only Nemesis wove, mute and cold,
A net all snowy with its soft meshes dense,
A shroud of magnitude for host immense;
Till every one felt as if left alone
In a wide wilderness where no light shone,
To die, with pity none, and none to see
That from this mournful realm none should get free.
Their foes the frozen North and Czar-that, worst.
Cannon were broken up in haste accurst
## p. 7733 (#551) ###########################################
VICTOR HUGO
7733
To burn the frames and make the pale fire high,
Where those lay down who never woke, or woke to die.
Sad and commingled, groups that blindly fled.
Were swallowed smoothly by the desert dread.
'Neath folds of blankness, monuments were raised
O'er regiments. And History, amazed,
Could not record the ruin of this retreat,-
Unlike a downfall known before, or the defeat
Of Hannibal-reversed and wrapped in gloom!
Of Attila, when nations met their doom!
Perished an army - fled French glory then,
Though there the Emperor! He stood and gazed
At the wild havoc, like a monarch dazed
In woodland hoar, who felt the shrieking saw-
He, living oak, beheld his branches fall, with awe.
Chiefs, soldiers, comrades died. But still warm love
Kept those that rose all dastard fear above,
As on his tent they saw his shadow pass-
Backwards and forwards; for they credited, alas!
His fortune's star! It could not, could not be
That he had not his work to do-a destiny?
To hurl him headlong from his high estate
Would be high treason in his bondman, Fate.
But all the while he felt himself alone,
Stunned with disasters few have ever known.
Sudden, a fear came o'er his troubled soul:
What more was written on the Future's scroll?
Was this an expiation? It must be, yea!
He turned to God for one enlightening ray.
"Is this the vengeance, Lord of Hosts? " he sighed;
But the first murmur on his parched lips died.
"Is this the vengeance? Must my glory set? "
A pause: his name was called; of flame a jet
Sprang in the darkness;- -a Voice answered: "No!
Not yet. "
Outside still fell the smothering snow.
Was it a voice indeed? or but a dream?
It was the vulture's, but how like the sea-bird's scream.
Translation of Toru Dutt.
## p. 7734 (#552) ###########################################
7734
VICTOR HUGO
THE LIONS
"Les lions dans la fosse étaient sans nourriture »
F^
AMISHED the Lions were in their strong den,
And roared appeal to Nature from the men
Who caged them-Nature, that for them had care.
Kept for three days without their needful fare,
The creatures raved with hunger and with hate,
And through their roof of chains and iron grate
Looked to the blood-red sunset in the west:
Their cries the distant traveler oppressed,
Far as horizon which the blue hill veils.
Fiercely they lashed their bodies with their tails
Till the walls shook; as if their eyes' red light
And hungry jaws had lent them added might.
By Og and his great sons was shaped the cave;
They hollowed it, in need themselves to save.
It was a deep-laid place wherein to hide,
This giant's palace in the rock's dark side;
Their heads had broken through the roof of stone,
So that the light in every corner shone,
And dreary dungeon had for dome blue sky.
Nebuchadnezzar, savage king, had eye
For this strong cavern, and a pavement laid
Upon the centre, that it should be made
A place where lions he could safely mew,
Though once Deucalions and khans it knew.
The beasts were four most furious all. The ground
Was carpeted with bones that lay all round;
While as they walked, and crunched with heavy tread
Men's skeletons and brutes', far overhead
The tapering shadows of the rocks were spread.
The first had come from Sodom's desert plain;
When savage freedom did to him remain
He dwelt at Sin, extremest point and rude
Of silence terrible and solitude.
Oh! woe betide who fell beneath his claw,
This Lion of the sand with rough-skinned paw.
The second came from forest watered by
The stream Euphrates. When his step drew nigh,
Descending to the river, all things feared;
Hard fight to snare this growler it appeared.
## p. 7735 (#553) ###########################################
VICTOR HUGO
7735
The hounds of two kings were employed to catch
This Lion of the woods and be his match.
The third one dwelt on the steep mountain's side.
Horror and gloom companioned every stride:
When towards the miry ravines they would stray,
And herds and flocks in their wild gambols play,
All fled the shepherd, warrior, priest -in fright
If he leaped forth in all his dreadful might.
The fourth tremendous, furious creature came
From the sea-shore, and prowled with leonine fame,
Before he knew captivity's hard throes,
Along the coast where Gur's strong city rose.
Reeking its roofs - and in its ports were met
The masts of many nations thickly set.
There peasants brought their manna fine, and gum,
And there the prophet on his ass would come;
And folks were happy as caged birds set free.
Gur had a market-place 'twas grand to see;
There Abyssinians brought their ivories rare,
And Amorrhiens amber for their ware,
And linens dark. From Assur came fine wheat,
And from famed Ascalon the butter sweet.
The fleet of vessels stir on ocean made.
This beast in revery of evening's shade
Was fretted by the noisy town so near,-
Too many folks lived in it, that was clear.
Gur was a lofty, formidable town:
At night three heavy barriers made it frown
And closed the entrance inaccessible;
Between each battlement rose terrible
Rhinoceros horn, or one of buffalo;
The strong, straight wall did like a hero show.
Some fifteen fathoms deep the moat might be,
And it was filled by sluices from the sea.
Instead of kenneled watch-dogs barking near,
Two monstrous dragons did for guards appear:
They had been captured 'mong the reeds of Nile,
And by magician tamed to guards servile.
One night, the gate thus kept the Lion neared:
With single bound the guarding moat he cleared;
Then with barbaric teeth the gate he smashed
And all its triple bars; and next he crashed
―
## p. 7736 (#554) ###########################################
7736
VICTOR HUGO
The dragons twain, without so much as look
At them, and bolts and hinges all he shook
Into one wreck. And when he made his way
Back towards the strand, remained there of the fray
Only a vision of the peopled town,
Only a memory of the wall knocked down,
'Neath spectral towers fit but for vulture's nest,
Or for the tiger wanting timely rest.
This Lion scorned complaint, but crouching lay
And yawned, so heavily time passed away.
Mastered by man, sharp hunger thus he bore,
Yet weariness of woe oppressed him sore.
But to and fro the others stamp all three;
And if a fluttering bird outside they see,
They gnaw its shadow as they mark it soar,
Their hunger growing as they hoarsely roar.
In a dark corner of the cavern dim
Quite suddenly there oped a portal grim;
And pushed by brawny arms that fright betrayed,
Appeared a Man in grave-clothes white arrayed.
The grating closed as closing up a tomb;
The Man was with the Lions in the gloom.
The monsters foamed, and rushed their prey to gain,
With frightful yell, while bristled every mane;
Their howling roar expressing keenest hate
Of savage nature rebel to its fate,
With anger dashed by fear. Then spoke the Man,
And stretching forth his hand his words thus ran:
"May peace be with you, Lions. " Paused the beasts.
The wolves that disinter the dead for feasts,
The flat-skulled bears and writhing jackals, they
Who prowl at shipwrecks on the rocks for prey,
Are fierce; hyenas are unpitying found,
And watchful tiger felling at one bound.
But the strong lion in his stately force
Will sometimes lift the paw, yet stay its course.
He the lone dreamer in the shadows gray.
And now the Lions grouped themselves; and they
Amid the ruins looked like elders set
On grave discussion, in a conclave met,
With knitted brows intent disputes to end,
While over them a dead tree's branches bend.
## p. 7737 (#555) ###########################################
VICTOR HUGO
7737
First spoke the Lion of the sandy plain,
And said: "When this man entered, I again
Beheld the midday sun, and felt the blast
Of the hot simoom blown o'er spaces vast.
Oh, this man from the desert comes, I see! "
-
Then spoke the Lion of the woods: "For me,
One time where fig and palm and cedars grow,
And holly, day and night came music's flow
To fill my joyous cave; even when still
All life, the foliage round me seemed to thrill
With song.
When this man spoke, a sound was made
Like that from birds'-nests in the mossy shade.
This man has journeyed from my forest home! »
And now the one which had the nearest come,
The Lion black from mountains huge, exclaimed:
"This man is like to Caucasus, far famed,
Where no rock stirs; the majesty has he
Of Atlas. When his arm he raised all free,
I thought that Lebanon had made a bound
And thrown its shadow vast on fields around.
This man comes to us from the mountain's side! "
:-
The Lion dweller near the ocean wide,
Whose roar was loud as roar of frothing sea,
Spoke last:-"My sons, my habit is," said he,
"In sight of grandeur wholly to ignore.
All enmity; and this is why the shore
Became my home: I watched the sun arise,
And moon, and the grave smile of dawn; mine eyes
Grew used to the sublime; while waves rolled by
I learned great lessons of eternity.
Now, how this man is named I do not know,
But in his eyes I see the heavens glow;
This man, with brow so calm, by God is sent. "
When night had darkened the blue firmament,
The keeper wished to see inside the gate,
And pressed his pale face 'gainst the fastened grate.
In the dim depth stood Daniel, calm of mien,
With eyes uplifted to the stars serene,
While this the sight for wondering gaze to meet,-
The Lions fawning at the Captive's feet!
Translation of Mrs. Newton Crosland.
## p. 7738 (#556) ###########################################
7738
VICTOR HUGO
THE CONSPIRACY
From Hernani ›
[The scene is the crypt that incloses the tomb of Charlemagne, under the
cathedral of Aix-la-Chapelle. It is night. Great arches in Lombardian archi-
tecture, with capitals of birds and flowers. At the right of the stage is a
small bronze door, low and curved. A single lamp in the gloom, suspended
from the stone ceiling, shows the inscription "CAROLVS MAGNVS. » One
cannot see to the end of the succeeding vaults, in the intricacy of arches,
steps, and columns in shadow. Don Carlos of Spain, aware of the meeting
of the conspiring league, of which the outlawed Hernani is a member, has
decided (at the risk of assassination) to overhear the plot and to surprise the
plotters; not only in their own council but at the moment when he is likely,
in spite of their cabal, to be announced as elected Emperor by the firing of
three cannon at the command of the electoral college. This extract abridges
his sombre monologue, giving the beginning and concluding passage. ]
DON
ON CARLOS [alone] - Forgive me, Charlemagne! Oh, this lonely
vault
Should echo only unto solemn words.
Thou must be angry at the babble vain
Of our ambition at your monument.
Here Charlemagne rests! How can the sombre tomb
Without a rifting spasm hold such dust!
And art thou truly here, colossal power,
Creator of the world? And canst thou now
Crouch down from all thy majesty and might?
Ah, 'tis a spectacle to stir the soul-
What Europe was, and what by thee 'twas made.
To govern this - to mount so high if called,
Yet know myself to be but mortal man"!
To see the abyss-if not that moment struck
With dizziness bewildering every sense.
Oh, moving pyramid of states and kings
With apex narrow,-woe to timid step!
What shall restrain me? If I fail when there
Feeling my feet upon the trembling world,
Feeling alive the palpitating earth,
Then when I have between my hands the globe
Have I alone the strength to hold it fast,
To be an Emperor? O God! 'twas hard
And difficult to play the kingly part.
Certes, no man is rarer than the one
Who can enlarge his soul to duly meet
Great Fortune's smiles and still increasing gifts.
·
## p. 7739 (#557) ###########################################
VICTOR HUGO
But I
Who is it that shall be my guide,
My counselor, and make me great?
[Falls on his knees before the tomb.
'Tis thou,
O Charlemagne! And since 'tis God for whom
All obstacles dissolve, who takes us now
And puts us face to face,—from this tomb's depths
Endow me with sublimity and strength.
Let me be great enough to see the truth
On every side. Show me how small the world
I dare not measure. -me this Babel show
Where, from the hind to Cæsar mounting up,
Each one, complaisant with himself, regards
The next with scorn that is but half restrained.
Teach me the secret of thy conquests all,
And how to rule. And show me certainly
Whether to punish or to pardon be
The worthier thing to do.
Is it not fact
That in his solitary bed sometimes
A mighty shade is wakened from his sleep,
Aroused by noise and turbulence on earth;
That suddenly his tomb expands itself,
And bursts its doors—and in the night flings forth
A flood of light? If this be true indeed,
Say, Emperor! what can after Charlemagne
Another do! Speak, though thy sovereign breath
Should cleave this brazen door. Or rather now
Let me thy sanctuary enter lone!
Let me behold thy veritable face,
And not repulse me with a freezing breath.
Upon thy stony pillow elbows lean,
And let us talk. Yes, with prophetic voice
Tell me of things which make the forehead pale,
And clear eyes mournful. Speak, and do not blind
Thine awe-struck son, for doubtlessly thy tomb
Is full of light. Or if thou wilt not speak,
Let me make study in the solemn peace
Of thee, as of a world; thy measure take,
O giant! for there's nothing here below
So great as thy poor ashes. Let them teach,
Failing thy spirit.
7739
[He puts the key in the lock.
Let us enter now.
[He recoils.
O God, if he should really whisper me!
## p. 7740 (#558) ###########################################
7740
VICTOR HUGO
If he be there and walks with noiseless tread,
And I come back with hair in moments bleached!
I'll do it still.
[Sound of footsteps. ]
Who comes? who dares disturb
Besides myself the dwelling of such dead!
[The sound comes nearer. ]
My murderers! I forgot! Now enter we.
[He opens the door of the tomb, which shuts upon him. ]
Enter several men (Conspirators) walking softly, disguised by large cloaks
and hats. They take each other's hands, going from one to another
and speaking in a low tone.
First Conspirator [who alone carries a lighted torch]—
Ad augusta.
Second Conspirator-
First Conspirator -
Per angusta.
Shield us.
Third Conspirator-
First Conspirator-
-
――――――――
First Conspirator-
Who's there?
A Voice
Second Conspirator-
The dead assist us.
First Conspirator to Third-
Third Conspirator-
Voice [in the darkness]-
Ad augusta.
Third Conspirator-
Ad augusta.
Per angusta.
Enter fresh Conspirators-noise of footsteps
First Conspirator-
The Saints
[Noise in the shade. ]
See! there is some one still to come.
Guard us, God!
All now are here.
To state the case.
Per angusta.
Enter more Conspirators, who exchange signs with their hands with the
others
Who's there?
'Tis well.
Gotha, to you it falls
Friends, darkness waits for light.
## p. 7741 (#559) ###########################################
VICTOR HUGO
Duke of Gotha [rising]-
[The Conspirators sit in a half-circle on the tombs. The First Conspirator
passes before them, and from his torch each one lights a wax taper
which he holds in his hand. Then the First Conspirator seats him-
self in silence on a tomb a little higher than the others, in the centre
of the circle. ]
My friends! This Charles of Spain, by mother's side
A foreigner, aspires to mount the throne
Of Holy Empire.
First Conspirator-
But for him the grave.
All-
Duke of Gotha [throwing down his light and crushing it with his foot] —
Let it be with his head as with this flame.
So be it.
First Conspirator-
Duke of Gotha
All
Let him be slain.
Don Juan de Haro-
Duke de Lutzelbourg —
Duke of Gotha -
A Conspirator-
All-
-
His mother Spanish.
-
All-
First Conspirator-
Don Gil Tellez Giron-
Death unto him.
Thus you see that he
Is no more one than other. Let him die.
First Conspirator-
Suppose th' Electors at this very hour
Declare him Emperor!
Let him die.
German his father was.
The Empire.
First Conspirator-
What signifies? Let us strike off the head,
The crown will fall.
All-
First Conspirator —
-
But if to him belongs
The Holy Empire, he becomes so great
And so august, that only God's own hand
Can reach him.
-
Duke of Gotha –
All the better reason why
He dies before such power august he gains.
First Conspirator-
He shall not be elected.
Him! oh, never him!
Not for him
Now, how many hands will't take
To put him in his shroud?
One is enough.
7741
How many strokes to reach his heart?
But one.
## p. 7742 (#560) ###########################################
7742
VICTOR HUGO
First Conspirator-
All-
First Conspirator-
____
Who, then, will strike?
All! All!
The victim is
A traitor proved. They would an Emperor choose,
We've a high priest to make. Let us draw lots.
[All the Conspirators write their names on their tablets, tear out the leaf,
roll it up, and one after another throw them into the urn on one of
the tombs. Afterwards the First Conspirator says:-]
Now let us pray.
[All kneel; the First Conspirator rises and says:-]
Oh, may the chosen one
Believe in God, and like a Roman strike,—
Die as a Hebrew would, and brave alike
The wheel and burning pincers, laugh at rack
And fire and wooden horse, and be resigned
To kill and die. He might have all to do.
[He draws a parchment from the urn. ]
What name?
All-
First Conspirator [in low voice] -
Hernani!
Hernani [coming out from the crowd of Conspirators] —
I have won,—yes, won!
I hold thee fast! Thee I've so long pursued
With vengeance.
Don Ruy Gomez [piercing through the crowd and taking Hernani aside] —
Yield-oh yield this right to me.
Hernani-Not for my life! O Signor, grudge me not
This stroke of fortune-'tis the first I've known.
Don Ruy Gomez-
You nothing have! I'll give you houses, lands,
A hundred thousand vassals shall be yours
In my three hundred villages, if you
But yield the right to strike to me.
No-no.
Hernani-
Duke of Gotha-
Old man, thy arm would strike less sure a blow.
Don Ruy Gomez-
Back! I have strength of soul, if not of arm.
Judge not the sword by the mere scabbard's rust.
1
!
H
## p. 7743 (#561) ###########################################
VICTOR HUGO
Hernani-
My life is yours,
As his belongs to me.
Don Ruy Gomez [drawing the horn from his girdle]—
I yield Her up,
And will return the horn.
Hernani [trembling]-
[To Hernani]-
You do belong to me.
What, life! my life
And Doña Sol! No, I my vengeance choose.
I have my father to revenge-yet more,
Perchance I am inspired by God in this.
Don Ruy Gomez –
I yield thee Her-and give thee back the horn!
Hernani-No!
Don Ruy Gomez-
Hernani-
-
--
Boy, reflect.
Hernani-
Don Ruy Gomez-
-
My curses on you for depriving me
Of this my joy.
First Conspirator [to Hernani]—
O Duke, leave me my prey!
To kill a man.
First Conspirator-
O brother! ere they can
Elect him-'twould be well this very night
To watch for Charles.
―――――――
Fear naught: I know the way
May every treason fall
On traitor, and may God be with you now.
We counts and barons, let us take the oath
That if he fall, yet slay not, we go on
And strike by turn unflinching till Charles dies.
All [drawing their swords]-
Let us all swear.
Duke of Gotha [to First Conspirator]-
My brother, let's decide
On what we swear.
Don Ruy Gomez [taking his sword by the point and raising it above his
By this same cross-
head]-
All [raising their swords]-
That he must quickly die impenitent.
7743
-
And this-
[They hear a cannon fired afar off. All pause and are silent. The door
Carlos appears at the threshold. A
He opens wide the door, and stands
of the tomb half opens, and Don
second gun is fired, then a third.
erect and motionless without advancing. ]
## p. 7744 (#562) ###########################################
VICTOR HUGO
7744
Don Carlos —
Fall back, ye gentlemen-the Emperor hears.
[All the lights are simultaneously extinguished. A profound silence. Don
Carlos advances a step in the darkness, so dense that the silent, mo-
tionless Conspirators can scarcely be distinguished. ]
Silence and night! From darkness sprung, the swarm
Into the darkness plunges back again!
Think ye this scene is like a passing dream,
And that I take you, now your lights are quenched,
For men's stone figures seated on their tombs?
Just now, my statues, you had voices loud.
Raise, then, your drooping heads, for Charles the Fifth
Is here. Strike. Move a pace or two and show
You dare. But no, 'tis not in you to dare.
Your flaming torches, blood-red 'neath these vaults,
My breath extinguished; but now turn your eyes
Irresolute, and see that if I thus
Put out the many, I can light still more.
[He strikes the iron key on the bronze door of the tomb. At the sound all
the depths of the cavern are filled with soldiers bearing torches and
halberts. At their head the Duke d'Alcala, the Marquis d'Almu-
ñan, etc. ]
Come on, my falcons! I've the nest- the prey.
[To Conspirators]-
I can make blaze of light; 'tis my turn now,-
Behold!
--
[To the Soldiers] —
Hernani [looking at the Soldiers] -
Don Carlos —
Advance-for flagrant is the crime.
-
Ah, well! At first I thought 'twas Charlemagne,-
Alone he seemed so great,- but after all
'Tis only Charles the Fifth.
Don Carlos [to the Duke d'Alcala]-
Of Spain,
[To Marquis d'Almuñan] —
And you, Castilian Admiral,
Disarm them all.
[The Conspirators are surrounded and disarmed. ]
Don Ricardo [hurrying in and bowing almost to the ground] —
Your Majesty!
I make you of the Palace.
Come, Constable
Alcadé
## p. 7745 (#563) ###########################################
VICTOR HUGO
Don Ricardo [again bowing]-
Two Electors,
To represent the Golden Chamber, come
To offer to your Sacred Majesty
Congratulations now.
Don Carlos
[Aside to Don Ricardo]-
The Doña Sol.
Duke of Bavaria -
[Ricardo bows, and exit. ]
Enter with flambeaux and flourish of trumpets the King of Bohemia and
the Duke of Bavaria, both wearing cloth of gold and with crowns
on their heads, and with numerous followers. German nobles carry-
ing the banner of the Empire, the double-headed Eagle, with the
escutcheon of Spain in the middle of it. The soldiers divide, forming
lines between which the Electors pass to the Emperor, to whom they
bow low. He returns the salutation by raising his hat.
Most Sacred Majesty
Charles, of the Romans King, and Emperor,
The Empire of the world is in your hands-
Yours is the throne to which each king aspires!
The Saxon Frederick was elected first,
Don Carlos-
But he judged you more worthy, and declined.
Now then receive the crown and globe, O King:
The Holy Empire doth invest you now;
Arms with the sword, and you indeed are great.
King of Bohemia
Let them come forth.
-
The College I will thank on my return.
But go, my brother of Bohemia,
And you, Bavarian cousin. -Thanks; but now
I do dismiss you I shall go myself.
Don Carlos-
-
The Crowd-
XIII-485
7745
O Charles, our ancestors were friends. My sire
Loved yours, and their two fathers were two friends-
So young! exposed to varied fortunes! Say,
O Charles, may I be ranked a very chief
Among thy brothers? I cannot forget
I knew you as a little child.
Ah, well
King of Bohemia, you presume too much.
[He gives him his hand to kiss, also the Duke of Bavaria; both bow low. ]
Depart.
[Exeunt the two Electors with their followers.
LONG LIVE THE EMPEROR!
## p. 7746 (#564) ###########################################
7746
VICTOR HUGO
Don Carlos [aside]-
So 'tis mine!
All things have helped, and I am Emperor —
By the refusal, though, of Frederick
Surnamed the Wise!
Enter Doña Sol, led by Ricardo
Doña Sol-
What, soldiers! -Emperor! -
Hernani! Heaven, what an unlooked-for chance!
Hernani-Ah!
Priests prayed, the sword estopped blaspheming breath,—
Vainly their cheating book for shield did they extend.
Some infants yet survived, and the unsated steel
Still drinks the life-blood of each whelp of Christian-kind;
To kiss thy sandaled foot, O King, thy people kneel,
And golden circlets to thy victor-ankle bind.
Translation of John L. O'Sullivan.
## p. 7727 (#545) ###########################################
VICTOR HUGO
OLD OCEAN
"J'étais seul près des flots »
COME
STOOD by the waves, while the stars soared in sight;
I
Not a cloud specked the sky, not a sail shimmered bright;
Scenes beyond this dim world were revealed to mine eye;
And the woods, and the hills, and all nature around,
Seemed to question with moody, mysterious sound,
The waves, and the pure stars on high.
And the clear constellations, that infinite throng,
While thousand rich harmonies swelled in their song,
Replying, bowed meekly their diamond blaze;
And the blue waves, which nothing may bind or arrest,
Chorused forth, as they stooped the white foam of their crest,
"Creator! we bless thee and praise! "
Translation of R. C. Ellwood.
PRAYER
"Ma fille, va prier! »
I
OME, child, to prayer; the busy day is done,
A golden star gleams through the dusk of night;
The hills are trembling in the rising mist,
The rumbling wain looms dim upon the sight;
All things wend home to rest; the roadside trees
Shake off their dust, stirred by the evening breeze.
The sparkling stars gush forth in sudden blaze,
As twilight open flings the doors of night;
The fringe of carmine narrows in the west,
The rippling waves are tipped with silver light;
The bush, the path-all blend in one dull gray;
The doubtful traveler gropes his anxious way.
7727
O day! with toil, with wrong, with hatred rife;
O blessed night! with sober calmness sweet:
The sad winds moaning through the ruined tower,
The age-worn hind, the sheep's sad broken bleat-
All nature groans opprest with toil and care,
And wearied craves for rest and love and prayer.
At eve the babes with angels converse hold,
While we to our strange pleasures wend our way;
## p. 7728 (#546) ###########################################
7728
VICTOR HUGO
Each with its little face upraised to heaven,
With folded hands, barefoot kneels down to pray;
At self-same hour with self-same words they call
On God, the common father of them all.
And then they sleep, and golden dreams anon,
Born as the busy day's last murmurs die,
In swarms tumultuous flitting through the gloom,
Their breathing lips and golden locks descry;
And as the bees o'er bright flowers joyous roam,
Around their curtained cradles clustering come.
O prayer of childhood! simple, innocent;
O infant slumbers! peaceful, pure, and light;
O happy worship! ever gay with smiles,
Meet prelude to the harmonies of night:
As birds beneath the wing enfold their head,
Nestled in prayer the infant seeks its bed.
Translation of Henry Highton, M. A.
II
To prayer, my child! and oh, be thy first prayer
For her who many nights with anxious care
Rocked thy first cradle; who took thy infant soul
From heaven and gave it to the world; then rife
With love, still drank herself the gall of life,
And left for thy young lips the honeyed bowl.
And then-I need it more then pray for me!
For she is gentle, artless, true like thee;
She has a guileless heart, brow placid still;
Pity she has for all, envy for none;
Gentle and wise, she patiently lives on;
And she endures, nor knows who does the ill.
-
In culling flowers, her novice hand has ne'er
Touched e'en the outer rind of vice; no snare
With smiling show has lured her steps aside:
On her the past has left no staining mark;
Nor knows she aught of those bad thoughts which, dark
Like shade on waters, o'er the spirit glide.
She knows not - nor mayst thou-the miseries
In which our spirits mingle: vanities,
Remorse, soul-gnawing cares, Pleasure's false show;
## p. 7729 (#547) ###########################################
VICTOR HUGO
7729
Passions which float upon the heart like foam,
Bitter remembrances which o'er us come,
And Shame's red spot spread sudden o'er the brow.
I know life better! When thou'rt older grown
I'll tell thee - it is needful to be known-
-
Of the pursuit of wealth, art, power; the cost,—
That it is folly, nothingness; that shame
For glory is oft thrown us in the game
Of Fortune, chances where the soul is lost.
The soul will change. Although of everything
The cause and end be clear, yet wildering
We roam through life, of vice and error full.
We wander as we go; we feel the load
Of doubt; and to the briers upon the road
Man leaves his virtue, as the sheep its wool.
Then go, go pray for me! And as the prayer
Gushes in words, be this the form they bear:—
"Lord, Lord our Father! God, my prayer attend;
Pardon - Thou art good! Pardon - Thou art great! "
Let them go freely forth, fear not their fate!
Where thy soul sends them, thitherward they tend.
There's nothing here below which does not find
Its tendency. O'er plains the rivers wind,
And reach the sea; the bee, by instinct driven,
Finds out the honeyed flowers; the eagle flies
To seek the sun; the vulture where death lies;
The swallow to the spring; the prayer to Heaven!
And when thy voice is raised to God for me,
I'm like the slave whom in the vale we see
Seated to rest, his heavy load laid by:
I feel refreshed; the load of faults and woe
Which, groaning, I drag with me as I go,
Thy winged prayer bears off rejoicingly!
XIII-484
Pray for thy father! that his dreams be bright
With visitings of angel forms of light,
And his soul burn as incense flaming wide.
Let thy pure breath all his dark sins efface,
So that his heart be like that holy place,
An altar pavement each eve purified!
Translation of C, in Tait's Magazine.
## p. 7730 (#548) ###########################################
VICTOR HUGO
7730
MY THOUGHTS OF YE
«À quoi je songe? »
WH
HAT do I dream of? Far from the low roof
Where now ye are, children, I dream of you;
Of your young heads that are the hope and crown
Of my full summer, ripening to its fall.
Branches whose shadow grows along my wall,
Sweet souls scarce open to the breath of day,
Still dazzled with the brightness of your dawn.
I dream of those two little ones at play,
Making the threshold vocal with their cries,—
Half tears, half laughter, mingled sport and strife,
Like two flowers knocked together by the wind.
Or of the elder two-more anxious thought –
Breasting already broader waves of life,
A conscious innocence on either face,
My pensive daughter and my curious boy.
Thus do I dream, while the light sailors sing,
At even moored beneath some steepy shore,
While the waves, opening all their nostrils, breathe
A thousand sea-scents to the wandering wind,
And the whole air is full of wondrous sounds,
From sea to strand, from land to sea, given back:
Alone and sad, thus do I dream of you.
Children, and house and home, the table set,
The glowing hearth, and all the pious care
Of tender mother, and of grandsire kind;
And while before me, spotted with white sails,
The limpid ocean mirrors all the stars,
And while the pilot from the infinite main
Looks with calm eye into the infinite heaven,
I, dreaming of you only, seek to scan
And fathom all my soul's deep love for you,-
Love sweet and powerful, and everlasting,-
And find that the great sea is small beside it.
Translation in Dublin University Magazine.
## p. 7731 (#549) ###########################################
VICTOR HUGO
7731
NAPOLEON
"Tu domines notre âge; ange ou démon, qu'importe! "
NGEL or demon! thou-whether of light
Α
-
The minister, or darkness - still dost sway
This age of ours; thine eagle's soaring flight
Bears us, all breathless, after it away.
The eye that from thy presence fain would stray,
Shuns thee in vain; thy mighty shadow thrown
Rests on all pictures of the living day,
And on the threshold of our time alone,
Dazzling, yet sombre, stands thy form, Napoleon!
Thus, when the admiring stranger's steps explore
The subject-lands that 'neath Vesuvius be,
Whether he wind along the enchanting shore
To Portici from fair Parthenope,
Or, lingering long in dreamy revery,
O'er loveliest Ischia's od'rous isle he stray,
Wooed by whose breath the soft and am'rous sea
Seems like some languishing sultana's lay,
A voice for very sweets that scarce can win its way:
Him, whether Pæstum's solemn fane detain,
Shrouding his soul with meditation's power;
Or at Pozzuoli, to the sprightly strain
Of tarantella danced 'neath Tuscan tower,
Listening, he while away the evening hour;
Or wake the echoes, mournful, lone, and deep,
Of that sad city, in its dreaming bower
By the volcano seized, where mansions keep
The likeness which they wore at that last fatal sleep;
Or be his bark at Posilippo laid,
While as the swarthy boatman his side
Chants Tasso's lays to Virgil's pleasèd shade,-
Ever he sees throughout that circuit wide,
From shaded nook or sunny lawn espied,
From rocky headland viewed, or flow'ry shore,
From sea and spreading mead alike descried,
The Giant Mount, tow'ring all objects o'er,
And black'ning with its breath th' horizon evermore!
Translation in Fraser's Magazine.
## p. 7732 (#550) ###########################################
7732
VICTOR HUGO
THE RETREAT FROM MOSCOW
"Il neigeait »
T SNOWED. A defeat was our conquest red!
I'
For once, the eagle was hanging its head.
Sad days! The Emperor turned slowly his back
On smoking Moscow, blent orange and black.
The winter burst, avalanche-like to reign
Over the endless blanched sheet of the plain.
Nor chief nor banner in order could keep,—
The wolves of warfare were 'wildered like sheep.
The wings from centre could hardly be known
Through snow o'er horses and carts o'erthrown,
Where froze the wounded. In the bivouacs forlorn
Strange sights and gruesome met the breaking morn:
Mute were the bugles, while the men bestrode
Steeds turned to marble, unheeding the goad.
The shells and bullets came down with the snow
As though the heavens hated these poor troops below.
. Surprised at trembling, though it was with cold,
Who ne'er had trembled out of fear, the veterans bold
Marched stern; to grizzled mustache hoar-frost clung
'Neath banners that in leaden masses hung.
It snowed, went snowing still. And chill the breeze
Whistled upon the grassy endless seas,
Where naked feet on, on forever went,
With naught to eat, and not a sheltering tent.
They were not living troops as seen in war,
But merely phantoms of a dream, afar
In darkness wandering, amid the vapor dim,-
A mystery; of shadows a procession grim,
Nearing a blackening sky, unto its rim.
Frightful, since boundless, solitude behold,
Where only Nemesis wove, mute and cold,
A net all snowy with its soft meshes dense,
A shroud of magnitude for host immense;
Till every one felt as if left alone
In a wide wilderness where no light shone,
To die, with pity none, and none to see
That from this mournful realm none should get free.
Their foes the frozen North and Czar-that, worst.
Cannon were broken up in haste accurst
## p. 7733 (#551) ###########################################
VICTOR HUGO
7733
To burn the frames and make the pale fire high,
Where those lay down who never woke, or woke to die.
Sad and commingled, groups that blindly fled.
Were swallowed smoothly by the desert dread.
'Neath folds of blankness, monuments were raised
O'er regiments. And History, amazed,
Could not record the ruin of this retreat,-
Unlike a downfall known before, or the defeat
Of Hannibal-reversed and wrapped in gloom!
Of Attila, when nations met their doom!
Perished an army - fled French glory then,
Though there the Emperor! He stood and gazed
At the wild havoc, like a monarch dazed
In woodland hoar, who felt the shrieking saw-
He, living oak, beheld his branches fall, with awe.
Chiefs, soldiers, comrades died. But still warm love
Kept those that rose all dastard fear above,
As on his tent they saw his shadow pass-
Backwards and forwards; for they credited, alas!
His fortune's star! It could not, could not be
That he had not his work to do-a destiny?
To hurl him headlong from his high estate
Would be high treason in his bondman, Fate.
But all the while he felt himself alone,
Stunned with disasters few have ever known.
Sudden, a fear came o'er his troubled soul:
What more was written on the Future's scroll?
Was this an expiation? It must be, yea!
He turned to God for one enlightening ray.
"Is this the vengeance, Lord of Hosts? " he sighed;
But the first murmur on his parched lips died.
"Is this the vengeance? Must my glory set? "
A pause: his name was called; of flame a jet
Sprang in the darkness;- -a Voice answered: "No!
Not yet. "
Outside still fell the smothering snow.
Was it a voice indeed? or but a dream?
It was the vulture's, but how like the sea-bird's scream.
Translation of Toru Dutt.
## p. 7734 (#552) ###########################################
7734
VICTOR HUGO
THE LIONS
"Les lions dans la fosse étaient sans nourriture »
F^
AMISHED the Lions were in their strong den,
And roared appeal to Nature from the men
Who caged them-Nature, that for them had care.
Kept for three days without their needful fare,
The creatures raved with hunger and with hate,
And through their roof of chains and iron grate
Looked to the blood-red sunset in the west:
Their cries the distant traveler oppressed,
Far as horizon which the blue hill veils.
Fiercely they lashed their bodies with their tails
Till the walls shook; as if their eyes' red light
And hungry jaws had lent them added might.
By Og and his great sons was shaped the cave;
They hollowed it, in need themselves to save.
It was a deep-laid place wherein to hide,
This giant's palace in the rock's dark side;
Their heads had broken through the roof of stone,
So that the light in every corner shone,
And dreary dungeon had for dome blue sky.
Nebuchadnezzar, savage king, had eye
For this strong cavern, and a pavement laid
Upon the centre, that it should be made
A place where lions he could safely mew,
Though once Deucalions and khans it knew.
The beasts were four most furious all. The ground
Was carpeted with bones that lay all round;
While as they walked, and crunched with heavy tread
Men's skeletons and brutes', far overhead
The tapering shadows of the rocks were spread.
The first had come from Sodom's desert plain;
When savage freedom did to him remain
He dwelt at Sin, extremest point and rude
Of silence terrible and solitude.
Oh! woe betide who fell beneath his claw,
This Lion of the sand with rough-skinned paw.
The second came from forest watered by
The stream Euphrates. When his step drew nigh,
Descending to the river, all things feared;
Hard fight to snare this growler it appeared.
## p. 7735 (#553) ###########################################
VICTOR HUGO
7735
The hounds of two kings were employed to catch
This Lion of the woods and be his match.
The third one dwelt on the steep mountain's side.
Horror and gloom companioned every stride:
When towards the miry ravines they would stray,
And herds and flocks in their wild gambols play,
All fled the shepherd, warrior, priest -in fright
If he leaped forth in all his dreadful might.
The fourth tremendous, furious creature came
From the sea-shore, and prowled with leonine fame,
Before he knew captivity's hard throes,
Along the coast where Gur's strong city rose.
Reeking its roofs - and in its ports were met
The masts of many nations thickly set.
There peasants brought their manna fine, and gum,
And there the prophet on his ass would come;
And folks were happy as caged birds set free.
Gur had a market-place 'twas grand to see;
There Abyssinians brought their ivories rare,
And Amorrhiens amber for their ware,
And linens dark. From Assur came fine wheat,
And from famed Ascalon the butter sweet.
The fleet of vessels stir on ocean made.
This beast in revery of evening's shade
Was fretted by the noisy town so near,-
Too many folks lived in it, that was clear.
Gur was a lofty, formidable town:
At night three heavy barriers made it frown
And closed the entrance inaccessible;
Between each battlement rose terrible
Rhinoceros horn, or one of buffalo;
The strong, straight wall did like a hero show.
Some fifteen fathoms deep the moat might be,
And it was filled by sluices from the sea.
Instead of kenneled watch-dogs barking near,
Two monstrous dragons did for guards appear:
They had been captured 'mong the reeds of Nile,
And by magician tamed to guards servile.
One night, the gate thus kept the Lion neared:
With single bound the guarding moat he cleared;
Then with barbaric teeth the gate he smashed
And all its triple bars; and next he crashed
―
## p. 7736 (#554) ###########################################
7736
VICTOR HUGO
The dragons twain, without so much as look
At them, and bolts and hinges all he shook
Into one wreck. And when he made his way
Back towards the strand, remained there of the fray
Only a vision of the peopled town,
Only a memory of the wall knocked down,
'Neath spectral towers fit but for vulture's nest,
Or for the tiger wanting timely rest.
This Lion scorned complaint, but crouching lay
And yawned, so heavily time passed away.
Mastered by man, sharp hunger thus he bore,
Yet weariness of woe oppressed him sore.
But to and fro the others stamp all three;
And if a fluttering bird outside they see,
They gnaw its shadow as they mark it soar,
Their hunger growing as they hoarsely roar.
In a dark corner of the cavern dim
Quite suddenly there oped a portal grim;
And pushed by brawny arms that fright betrayed,
Appeared a Man in grave-clothes white arrayed.
The grating closed as closing up a tomb;
The Man was with the Lions in the gloom.
The monsters foamed, and rushed their prey to gain,
With frightful yell, while bristled every mane;
Their howling roar expressing keenest hate
Of savage nature rebel to its fate,
With anger dashed by fear. Then spoke the Man,
And stretching forth his hand his words thus ran:
"May peace be with you, Lions. " Paused the beasts.
The wolves that disinter the dead for feasts,
The flat-skulled bears and writhing jackals, they
Who prowl at shipwrecks on the rocks for prey,
Are fierce; hyenas are unpitying found,
And watchful tiger felling at one bound.
But the strong lion in his stately force
Will sometimes lift the paw, yet stay its course.
He the lone dreamer in the shadows gray.
And now the Lions grouped themselves; and they
Amid the ruins looked like elders set
On grave discussion, in a conclave met,
With knitted brows intent disputes to end,
While over them a dead tree's branches bend.
## p. 7737 (#555) ###########################################
VICTOR HUGO
7737
First spoke the Lion of the sandy plain,
And said: "When this man entered, I again
Beheld the midday sun, and felt the blast
Of the hot simoom blown o'er spaces vast.
Oh, this man from the desert comes, I see! "
-
Then spoke the Lion of the woods: "For me,
One time where fig and palm and cedars grow,
And holly, day and night came music's flow
To fill my joyous cave; even when still
All life, the foliage round me seemed to thrill
With song.
When this man spoke, a sound was made
Like that from birds'-nests in the mossy shade.
This man has journeyed from my forest home! »
And now the one which had the nearest come,
The Lion black from mountains huge, exclaimed:
"This man is like to Caucasus, far famed,
Where no rock stirs; the majesty has he
Of Atlas. When his arm he raised all free,
I thought that Lebanon had made a bound
And thrown its shadow vast on fields around.
This man comes to us from the mountain's side! "
:-
The Lion dweller near the ocean wide,
Whose roar was loud as roar of frothing sea,
Spoke last:-"My sons, my habit is," said he,
"In sight of grandeur wholly to ignore.
All enmity; and this is why the shore
Became my home: I watched the sun arise,
And moon, and the grave smile of dawn; mine eyes
Grew used to the sublime; while waves rolled by
I learned great lessons of eternity.
Now, how this man is named I do not know,
But in his eyes I see the heavens glow;
This man, with brow so calm, by God is sent. "
When night had darkened the blue firmament,
The keeper wished to see inside the gate,
And pressed his pale face 'gainst the fastened grate.
In the dim depth stood Daniel, calm of mien,
With eyes uplifted to the stars serene,
While this the sight for wondering gaze to meet,-
The Lions fawning at the Captive's feet!
Translation of Mrs. Newton Crosland.
## p. 7738 (#556) ###########################################
7738
VICTOR HUGO
THE CONSPIRACY
From Hernani ›
[The scene is the crypt that incloses the tomb of Charlemagne, under the
cathedral of Aix-la-Chapelle. It is night. Great arches in Lombardian archi-
tecture, with capitals of birds and flowers. At the right of the stage is a
small bronze door, low and curved. A single lamp in the gloom, suspended
from the stone ceiling, shows the inscription "CAROLVS MAGNVS. » One
cannot see to the end of the succeeding vaults, in the intricacy of arches,
steps, and columns in shadow. Don Carlos of Spain, aware of the meeting
of the conspiring league, of which the outlawed Hernani is a member, has
decided (at the risk of assassination) to overhear the plot and to surprise the
plotters; not only in their own council but at the moment when he is likely,
in spite of their cabal, to be announced as elected Emperor by the firing of
three cannon at the command of the electoral college. This extract abridges
his sombre monologue, giving the beginning and concluding passage. ]
DON
ON CARLOS [alone] - Forgive me, Charlemagne! Oh, this lonely
vault
Should echo only unto solemn words.
Thou must be angry at the babble vain
Of our ambition at your monument.
Here Charlemagne rests! How can the sombre tomb
Without a rifting spasm hold such dust!
And art thou truly here, colossal power,
Creator of the world? And canst thou now
Crouch down from all thy majesty and might?
Ah, 'tis a spectacle to stir the soul-
What Europe was, and what by thee 'twas made.
To govern this - to mount so high if called,
Yet know myself to be but mortal man"!
To see the abyss-if not that moment struck
With dizziness bewildering every sense.
Oh, moving pyramid of states and kings
With apex narrow,-woe to timid step!
What shall restrain me? If I fail when there
Feeling my feet upon the trembling world,
Feeling alive the palpitating earth,
Then when I have between my hands the globe
Have I alone the strength to hold it fast,
To be an Emperor? O God! 'twas hard
And difficult to play the kingly part.
Certes, no man is rarer than the one
Who can enlarge his soul to duly meet
Great Fortune's smiles and still increasing gifts.
·
## p. 7739 (#557) ###########################################
VICTOR HUGO
But I
Who is it that shall be my guide,
My counselor, and make me great?
[Falls on his knees before the tomb.
'Tis thou,
O Charlemagne! And since 'tis God for whom
All obstacles dissolve, who takes us now
And puts us face to face,—from this tomb's depths
Endow me with sublimity and strength.
Let me be great enough to see the truth
On every side. Show me how small the world
I dare not measure. -me this Babel show
Where, from the hind to Cæsar mounting up,
Each one, complaisant with himself, regards
The next with scorn that is but half restrained.
Teach me the secret of thy conquests all,
And how to rule. And show me certainly
Whether to punish or to pardon be
The worthier thing to do.
Is it not fact
That in his solitary bed sometimes
A mighty shade is wakened from his sleep,
Aroused by noise and turbulence on earth;
That suddenly his tomb expands itself,
And bursts its doors—and in the night flings forth
A flood of light? If this be true indeed,
Say, Emperor! what can after Charlemagne
Another do! Speak, though thy sovereign breath
Should cleave this brazen door. Or rather now
Let me thy sanctuary enter lone!
Let me behold thy veritable face,
And not repulse me with a freezing breath.
Upon thy stony pillow elbows lean,
And let us talk. Yes, with prophetic voice
Tell me of things which make the forehead pale,
And clear eyes mournful. Speak, and do not blind
Thine awe-struck son, for doubtlessly thy tomb
Is full of light. Or if thou wilt not speak,
Let me make study in the solemn peace
Of thee, as of a world; thy measure take,
O giant! for there's nothing here below
So great as thy poor ashes. Let them teach,
Failing thy spirit.
7739
[He puts the key in the lock.
Let us enter now.
[He recoils.
O God, if he should really whisper me!
## p. 7740 (#558) ###########################################
7740
VICTOR HUGO
If he be there and walks with noiseless tread,
And I come back with hair in moments bleached!
I'll do it still.
[Sound of footsteps. ]
Who comes? who dares disturb
Besides myself the dwelling of such dead!
[The sound comes nearer. ]
My murderers! I forgot! Now enter we.
[He opens the door of the tomb, which shuts upon him. ]
Enter several men (Conspirators) walking softly, disguised by large cloaks
and hats. They take each other's hands, going from one to another
and speaking in a low tone.
First Conspirator [who alone carries a lighted torch]—
Ad augusta.
Second Conspirator-
First Conspirator -
Per angusta.
Shield us.
Third Conspirator-
First Conspirator-
-
――――――――
First Conspirator-
Who's there?
A Voice
Second Conspirator-
The dead assist us.
First Conspirator to Third-
Third Conspirator-
Voice [in the darkness]-
Ad augusta.
Third Conspirator-
Ad augusta.
Per angusta.
Enter fresh Conspirators-noise of footsteps
First Conspirator-
The Saints
[Noise in the shade. ]
See! there is some one still to come.
Guard us, God!
All now are here.
To state the case.
Per angusta.
Enter more Conspirators, who exchange signs with their hands with the
others
Who's there?
'Tis well.
Gotha, to you it falls
Friends, darkness waits for light.
## p. 7741 (#559) ###########################################
VICTOR HUGO
Duke of Gotha [rising]-
[The Conspirators sit in a half-circle on the tombs. The First Conspirator
passes before them, and from his torch each one lights a wax taper
which he holds in his hand. Then the First Conspirator seats him-
self in silence on a tomb a little higher than the others, in the centre
of the circle. ]
My friends! This Charles of Spain, by mother's side
A foreigner, aspires to mount the throne
Of Holy Empire.
First Conspirator-
But for him the grave.
All-
Duke of Gotha [throwing down his light and crushing it with his foot] —
Let it be with his head as with this flame.
So be it.
First Conspirator-
Duke of Gotha
All
Let him be slain.
Don Juan de Haro-
Duke de Lutzelbourg —
Duke of Gotha -
A Conspirator-
All-
-
His mother Spanish.
-
All-
First Conspirator-
Don Gil Tellez Giron-
Death unto him.
Thus you see that he
Is no more one than other. Let him die.
First Conspirator-
Suppose th' Electors at this very hour
Declare him Emperor!
Let him die.
German his father was.
The Empire.
First Conspirator-
What signifies? Let us strike off the head,
The crown will fall.
All-
First Conspirator —
-
But if to him belongs
The Holy Empire, he becomes so great
And so august, that only God's own hand
Can reach him.
-
Duke of Gotha –
All the better reason why
He dies before such power august he gains.
First Conspirator-
He shall not be elected.
Him! oh, never him!
Not for him
Now, how many hands will't take
To put him in his shroud?
One is enough.
7741
How many strokes to reach his heart?
But one.
## p. 7742 (#560) ###########################################
7742
VICTOR HUGO
First Conspirator-
All-
First Conspirator-
____
Who, then, will strike?
All! All!
The victim is
A traitor proved. They would an Emperor choose,
We've a high priest to make. Let us draw lots.
[All the Conspirators write their names on their tablets, tear out the leaf,
roll it up, and one after another throw them into the urn on one of
the tombs. Afterwards the First Conspirator says:-]
Now let us pray.
[All kneel; the First Conspirator rises and says:-]
Oh, may the chosen one
Believe in God, and like a Roman strike,—
Die as a Hebrew would, and brave alike
The wheel and burning pincers, laugh at rack
And fire and wooden horse, and be resigned
To kill and die. He might have all to do.
[He draws a parchment from the urn. ]
What name?
All-
First Conspirator [in low voice] -
Hernani!
Hernani [coming out from the crowd of Conspirators] —
I have won,—yes, won!
I hold thee fast! Thee I've so long pursued
With vengeance.
Don Ruy Gomez [piercing through the crowd and taking Hernani aside] —
Yield-oh yield this right to me.
Hernani-Not for my life! O Signor, grudge me not
This stroke of fortune-'tis the first I've known.
Don Ruy Gomez-
You nothing have! I'll give you houses, lands,
A hundred thousand vassals shall be yours
In my three hundred villages, if you
But yield the right to strike to me.
No-no.
Hernani-
Duke of Gotha-
Old man, thy arm would strike less sure a blow.
Don Ruy Gomez-
Back! I have strength of soul, if not of arm.
Judge not the sword by the mere scabbard's rust.
1
!
H
## p. 7743 (#561) ###########################################
VICTOR HUGO
Hernani-
My life is yours,
As his belongs to me.
Don Ruy Gomez [drawing the horn from his girdle]—
I yield Her up,
And will return the horn.
Hernani [trembling]-
[To Hernani]-
You do belong to me.
What, life! my life
And Doña Sol! No, I my vengeance choose.
I have my father to revenge-yet more,
Perchance I am inspired by God in this.
Don Ruy Gomez –
I yield thee Her-and give thee back the horn!
Hernani-No!
Don Ruy Gomez-
Hernani-
-
--
Boy, reflect.
Hernani-
Don Ruy Gomez-
-
My curses on you for depriving me
Of this my joy.
First Conspirator [to Hernani]—
O Duke, leave me my prey!
To kill a man.
First Conspirator-
O brother! ere they can
Elect him-'twould be well this very night
To watch for Charles.
―――――――
Fear naught: I know the way
May every treason fall
On traitor, and may God be with you now.
We counts and barons, let us take the oath
That if he fall, yet slay not, we go on
And strike by turn unflinching till Charles dies.
All [drawing their swords]-
Let us all swear.
Duke of Gotha [to First Conspirator]-
My brother, let's decide
On what we swear.
Don Ruy Gomez [taking his sword by the point and raising it above his
By this same cross-
head]-
All [raising their swords]-
That he must quickly die impenitent.
7743
-
And this-
[They hear a cannon fired afar off. All pause and are silent. The door
Carlos appears at the threshold. A
He opens wide the door, and stands
of the tomb half opens, and Don
second gun is fired, then a third.
erect and motionless without advancing. ]
## p. 7744 (#562) ###########################################
VICTOR HUGO
7744
Don Carlos —
Fall back, ye gentlemen-the Emperor hears.
[All the lights are simultaneously extinguished. A profound silence. Don
Carlos advances a step in the darkness, so dense that the silent, mo-
tionless Conspirators can scarcely be distinguished. ]
Silence and night! From darkness sprung, the swarm
Into the darkness plunges back again!
Think ye this scene is like a passing dream,
And that I take you, now your lights are quenched,
For men's stone figures seated on their tombs?
Just now, my statues, you had voices loud.
Raise, then, your drooping heads, for Charles the Fifth
Is here. Strike. Move a pace or two and show
You dare. But no, 'tis not in you to dare.
Your flaming torches, blood-red 'neath these vaults,
My breath extinguished; but now turn your eyes
Irresolute, and see that if I thus
Put out the many, I can light still more.
[He strikes the iron key on the bronze door of the tomb. At the sound all
the depths of the cavern are filled with soldiers bearing torches and
halberts. At their head the Duke d'Alcala, the Marquis d'Almu-
ñan, etc. ]
Come on, my falcons! I've the nest- the prey.
[To Conspirators]-
I can make blaze of light; 'tis my turn now,-
Behold!
--
[To the Soldiers] —
Hernani [looking at the Soldiers] -
Don Carlos —
Advance-for flagrant is the crime.
-
Ah, well! At first I thought 'twas Charlemagne,-
Alone he seemed so great,- but after all
'Tis only Charles the Fifth.
Don Carlos [to the Duke d'Alcala]-
Of Spain,
[To Marquis d'Almuñan] —
And you, Castilian Admiral,
Disarm them all.
[The Conspirators are surrounded and disarmed. ]
Don Ricardo [hurrying in and bowing almost to the ground] —
Your Majesty!
I make you of the Palace.
Come, Constable
Alcadé
## p. 7745 (#563) ###########################################
VICTOR HUGO
Don Ricardo [again bowing]-
Two Electors,
To represent the Golden Chamber, come
To offer to your Sacred Majesty
Congratulations now.
Don Carlos
[Aside to Don Ricardo]-
The Doña Sol.
Duke of Bavaria -
[Ricardo bows, and exit. ]
Enter with flambeaux and flourish of trumpets the King of Bohemia and
the Duke of Bavaria, both wearing cloth of gold and with crowns
on their heads, and with numerous followers. German nobles carry-
ing the banner of the Empire, the double-headed Eagle, with the
escutcheon of Spain in the middle of it. The soldiers divide, forming
lines between which the Electors pass to the Emperor, to whom they
bow low. He returns the salutation by raising his hat.
Most Sacred Majesty
Charles, of the Romans King, and Emperor,
The Empire of the world is in your hands-
Yours is the throne to which each king aspires!
The Saxon Frederick was elected first,
Don Carlos-
But he judged you more worthy, and declined.
Now then receive the crown and globe, O King:
The Holy Empire doth invest you now;
Arms with the sword, and you indeed are great.
King of Bohemia
Let them come forth.
-
The College I will thank on my return.
But go, my brother of Bohemia,
And you, Bavarian cousin. -Thanks; but now
I do dismiss you I shall go myself.
Don Carlos-
-
The Crowd-
XIII-485
7745
O Charles, our ancestors were friends. My sire
Loved yours, and their two fathers were two friends-
So young! exposed to varied fortunes! Say,
O Charles, may I be ranked a very chief
Among thy brothers? I cannot forget
I knew you as a little child.
Ah, well
King of Bohemia, you presume too much.
[He gives him his hand to kiss, also the Duke of Bavaria; both bow low. ]
Depart.
[Exeunt the two Electors with their followers.
LONG LIVE THE EMPEROR!
## p. 7746 (#564) ###########################################
7746
VICTOR HUGO
Don Carlos [aside]-
So 'tis mine!
All things have helped, and I am Emperor —
By the refusal, though, of Frederick
Surnamed the Wise!
Enter Doña Sol, led by Ricardo
Doña Sol-
What, soldiers! -Emperor! -
Hernani! Heaven, what an unlooked-for chance!
Hernani-Ah!
