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〃What then； shall sorrows and shall fears
Come to disturb so pure a brow？
And with the bitterness of tears
These eyes of azure troubled grow？
〃Ah no！ into the fields of space；
Away shalt thou escape with me；
And Providence will grant thee grace
Of all the days that were to be。
〃Let no one in thy dwelling cower；
In sombre vestments draped and veiled；
But let them welcome thy last hour；
As thy first moments once they hailed。
〃Without a cloud be there each brow；
There let the grave no shadow cast；
When one is pure as thou art now；
The fairest day is still the last。〃
And waving wide his wings of white；
The angel； at these words； had sped
Towards the eternal realms of light！
Poor mother！ see； thy son is dead！
ON THE TERRACE OF THE AIGALADES
BY JOSEPH MERY
From this high portal； where upsprings
The rose to touch our hands in play；
We at a glance behold three things
The Sea； the Town； and the Highway。
And the Sea says： My shipwrecks fear；
I drown my best friends in the deep；
And those who braved icy tempests； here
Among my sea…weeds lie asleep！
The Town says： I am filled and fraught
With tumult and with smoke and care；
My days with toil are overwrought；
And in my nights I gasp for air。
The Highway says： My wheel…tracks guide
To the pale climates of the North；
Where my last milestone stands abide
The people to their death gone forth。
Here； in the shade； this life of ours；
Full of delicious air； glides by
Amid a multitude of flowers
As countless as the stars on high；
These red…tiled roofs； this fruitful soil；
Bathed with an azure all divine；
Where springs the tree that gives us oil；
The grape that giveth us the wine；
Beneath these mountains stripped of trees；
Whose tops with flowers are covered o'er；
Where springtime of the Hesperides
Begins； but endeth nevermore；
Under these leafy vaults and walls；
That unto gentle sleep persuade；
This rainbow of the waterfalls；
Of mingled mist and sunshine made；
Upon these shores； where all invites；
We live our languid life apart；
This air is that of life's delights；
The festival of sense and heart；
This limpid space of time prolong；
Forget to…morrow in to…day；
And leave unto the passing throng
The Sea； the Town； and the Highway。
TO MY BROOKLET
BY JEAN FRANCOIS DUCIS
Thou brooklet； all unknown to song；
Hid in the covert of the wood！
Ah； yes； like thee I fear the throng；
Like thee I love the solitude。
O brooklet； let my sorrows past
Lie all forgotten in their graves；
Till in my thoughts remain at last
Only thy peace； thy flowers； thy waves。
The lily by thy margin waits；
The nightingale； the marguerite；
In shadow here he meditates
His nest； his love； his music sweet。
Near thee the self…collected soul
Knows naught of error or of crime；
Thy waters； murmuring as they roll；
Transform his musings into rhyme。
Ah； when； on bright autumnal eves；
Pursuing still thy course； shall I
Lisp the soft shudder of the leaves；
And hear the lapwing's plaintive cry？
BARREGES
BY LEFRANC DE POMPIGNAN
I leave you； ye cold mountain chains；
Dwelling of warriors stark and frore！
You； may these eyes behold no more；
Rave on the horizon of our plains。
Vanish； ye frightful； gloomy views！
Ye rocks that mount up to the clouds！
Of skies； enwrapped in misty shrouds；
Impracticable avenues！
Ye torrents； that with might and main
Break pathways through the rocky walls；
With your terrific waterfalls
Fatigue no more my weary brain！
Arise； ye landscapes full of charms；
Arise； ye pictures of delight！
Ye brooks； that water in your flight
The flowers and harvests of our farms！
You I perceive； ye meadows green；
Where the Garonne the lowland fills；
Not far from that long chain of hills；
With intermingled vales between。
You wreath of smoke； that mounts so high；
Methinks from my own hearth must come；
With speed； to that beloved home；
Fly； ye too lazy coursers； fly！
And bear me thither； where the soul
In quiet may itself possess；
Where all things soothe the mind's distress；
Where all things teach me and console。
WILL EVER THE DEAR DAYS COME BACK AGAIN？
Will ever the dear days come back again；
Those days of June； when lilacs were in bloom；
And bluebirds sang their sonnets in the gloom
Of leaves that roofed them in from sun or rain？
I know not； but a presence will remain
Forever and forever in this room；
Formless； diffused in air； like a perfume；
A phantom of the heart； and not the brain。
Delicious days！ when every spoken word
Was like a foot…fall nearer and more near；
And a mysterious knocking at the gate
Of the heart's secret places； and we heard
In the sweet tumult of delight and fear
A voice that whispered； 〃Open； I cannot wait！〃
AT LA CHAUDEAU
BY XAVIER MARMIER
At La Chaudeau；'t is long since then：
I was young；my years twice ten；
All things smiled on the happy boy；
Dreams of love and songs of joy；
Azure of heaven and wave below；
At La Chaudeau。
At La Chaudeau I come back old：
My head is gray； my blood is cold；
Seeking along the meadow ooze；
Seeking beside the river Seymouse；
The days of my spring…time of long ago
At La Chaudeau。
At La Chaudeau nor heart nor brain
Ever grows old with grief and pain；
A sweet remembrance keeps off age；
A tender friendship doth still assuage
The burden of sorrow that one may know
At La Chaudeau。
At La Chaudeau； had fate decreed
To limit the wandering life I lead；
Peradventure I still； forsooth；
Should have preserved my fresh green youth；
Under the shadows the hill…tops throw
At La Chaudeau。
At La Chaudeau； live on； my friends；
Happy to be where God intends；
And sometimes； by the evening fire；
Think of him whose sole desire
Is again to sit in the old chateau
At La Chaudeau。
A QUIET LIFE。
Let him who will； by force or fraud innate；
Of courtly grandeurs gain the slippery height；
I； leaving not the home of my delight；
Far from the world and noise will meditate。
Then； without pomps or perils of the great；
I shall behold the day succeed the night；
Behold the alternate seasons take their flight；
And in serene repose old age await。
And so； whenever Death shall come to close
The happy moments that my days compose；
I； full of years； shall die； obscure； alone！
How wretched is the man； with honors crowned；
Who； having not the one thing needful found；
Dies； known to all； but to himself unknown。
THE WINE OF JURANCON
BY CHARLES CORAN
Little sweet wine of Jurancon；
You are dear to my memory still！
With mine host and his merry song；
Under the rose…tree I drank my fill。
Twenty years after；