The Miscellaneous Writings and Speeches-3 [83]
cold bed, The same dark night, the same long sleep; Why shouldest thou writhe, and sob, and rave O'er those with whom thou soon must be? Death his own sting shall cure--the grave Shall vanquish its own victory. Here learn that all the griefs and joys, Which now torment, which now beguile, Are children's hurts, and children's toys, Scarce worthy of one bitter smile. Here learn that pulpit, throne, and press, Sword, sceptre, lyre, alike are frail, That science is a blind man's guess, And History a nurse's tale. Here learn that glory and disgrace, Wisdom and folly, pass away, That mirth hath its appointed space, That sorrow is but for a day; That all we love, and all we hate, That all we hope, and all we fear, Each mood of mind, each turn of fate, Must end in dust and silence here. ...
TRANSLATION FROM A.V. ARNAULT. "Fables": Livre v. "Fable" 16. (1826.) Thou poor leaf, so sear and frail, Sport of every wanton gale, Whence, and whither, dost thou fly, Through this bleak autumnal sky? On a noble oak I grew, Green, and broad, and fair to view; But the Monarch of the shade By the tempest low was laid. From that time, I wander o'er Wood, and valley, hill, and moor, Wheresoe'er the wind is blowing, Nothing caring, nothing knowing: Thither go I, whither goes, Glory's laurel, Beauty's rose. ... --De ta tige detachee, Pauvre feuille dessechee Ou vas tu?--Je n'en sais rien. L'orage a frappe le chene Qui seul etait mon soutien. De son inconstante haleine, Le zephyr ou l'aquilon Depuis ce jour me promene De la foret a la plaine, De la montagne au vallon. Je vais ou le vent me mene, Sans me plaindre ou m'effrayer, Je vais ou va toute chose Ou va la feuille de rose Et la feuille de laurier. ...
DIES IRAE. (1826.) On that great, that awful day, This vain world shall pass away. Thus the sibyl sang of old, Thus hath holy David told. There shall be a deadly fear When the Avenger shall appear, And unveiled before his eye All the works of man shall lie. Hark! to the great trumpet's tones Pealing o'er the place of bones: Hark! it waketh from their bed All the nations of the dead,-- In a countless throng to meet, At the eternal judgment seat. Nature sickens with dismay, Death may not retain its prey; And before the Maker stand All the creatures of his hand. The great book shall be unfurled, Whereby God shall judge the world; What was distant shall be near, What was hidden shall be clear. To what shelter shall I fly? To what guardian shall I cry? Oh, in that destroying hour, Source of goodness, Source of power, Show thou, of thine own free grace, Help unto a helpless race. Though I plead not at thy throne Aught that I for thee have done, Do not thou unmindful be, Of what thou hast borne for me: Of the wandering, of the scorn, Of the scourge, and of the thorn. JESUS, hast THOU borne the pain, And hath all been borne in vain? Shall thy vengeance smite the head For whose ransom thou hast bled? Thou, whose dying blessing gave Glory to a guilty slave: Thou, who from the crew unclean Didst release the Magdalene: Shall not mercy vast and free, Evermore be found in thee? Father, turn on me thine eyes, See my blushes, hear my cries; Faint though be the cries I make, Save me for thy mercy's sake, From the worm, and from the fire, From the torments of thine ire. Fold me with the sheep that stand Pure and safe at thy right hand. Hear thy guilty child implore thee, Rolling in the dust before thee. Oh the horrors of that day! When this frame of sinful clay, Starting from its burial place, Must behold thee face to face. Hear and pity, hear and aid, Spare the creatures thou hast made. Mercy, mercy, save, forgive, Oh, who shall look on thee and live? ...
THE MARRIAGE OF TIRZAH AND AHIRAD. (1827.) GENESIS VI. 3. It is the dead of night: Yet more than noonday light Beams far and wide from many a gorgeous hall. Unnumbered harps are tinkling, Unnumbered lamps are twinkling, In the great city of the fourfold wall. By the brazen castle's moat, The sentry hums a livelier note. The ship-boy chaunts a shriller lay From the galleys in the bay. Shout, and laugh,
TRANSLATION FROM A.V. ARNAULT. "Fables": Livre v. "Fable" 16. (1826.) Thou poor leaf, so sear and frail, Sport of every wanton gale, Whence, and whither, dost thou fly, Through this bleak autumnal sky? On a noble oak I grew, Green, and broad, and fair to view; But the Monarch of the shade By the tempest low was laid. From that time, I wander o'er Wood, and valley, hill, and moor, Wheresoe'er the wind is blowing, Nothing caring, nothing knowing: Thither go I, whither goes, Glory's laurel, Beauty's rose. ... --De ta tige detachee, Pauvre feuille dessechee Ou vas tu?--Je n'en sais rien. L'orage a frappe le chene Qui seul etait mon soutien. De son inconstante haleine, Le zephyr ou l'aquilon Depuis ce jour me promene De la foret a la plaine, De la montagne au vallon. Je vais ou le vent me mene, Sans me plaindre ou m'effrayer, Je vais ou va toute chose Ou va la feuille de rose Et la feuille de laurier. ...
DIES IRAE. (1826.) On that great, that awful day, This vain world shall pass away. Thus the sibyl sang of old, Thus hath holy David told. There shall be a deadly fear When the Avenger shall appear, And unveiled before his eye All the works of man shall lie. Hark! to the great trumpet's tones Pealing o'er the place of bones: Hark! it waketh from their bed All the nations of the dead,-- In a countless throng to meet, At the eternal judgment seat. Nature sickens with dismay, Death may not retain its prey; And before the Maker stand All the creatures of his hand. The great book shall be unfurled, Whereby God shall judge the world; What was distant shall be near, What was hidden shall be clear. To what shelter shall I fly? To what guardian shall I cry? Oh, in that destroying hour, Source of goodness, Source of power, Show thou, of thine own free grace, Help unto a helpless race. Though I plead not at thy throne Aught that I for thee have done, Do not thou unmindful be, Of what thou hast borne for me: Of the wandering, of the scorn, Of the scourge, and of the thorn. JESUS, hast THOU borne the pain, And hath all been borne in vain? Shall thy vengeance smite the head For whose ransom thou hast bled? Thou, whose dying blessing gave Glory to a guilty slave: Thou, who from the crew unclean Didst release the Magdalene: Shall not mercy vast and free, Evermore be found in thee? Father, turn on me thine eyes, See my blushes, hear my cries; Faint though be the cries I make, Save me for thy mercy's sake, From the worm, and from the fire, From the torments of thine ire. Fold me with the sheep that stand Pure and safe at thy right hand. Hear thy guilty child implore thee, Rolling in the dust before thee. Oh the horrors of that day! When this frame of sinful clay, Starting from its burial place, Must behold thee face to face. Hear and pity, hear and aid, Spare the creatures thou hast made. Mercy, mercy, save, forgive, Oh, who shall look on thee and live? ...
THE MARRIAGE OF TIRZAH AND AHIRAD. (1827.) GENESIS VI. 3. It is the dead of night: Yet more than noonday light Beams far and wide from many a gorgeous hall. Unnumbered harps are tinkling, Unnumbered lamps are twinkling, In the great city of the fourfold wall. By the brazen castle's moat, The sentry hums a livelier note. The ship-boy chaunts a shriller lay From the galleys in the bay. Shout, and laugh,