Holyrood Palace.

("O palais, sois bénié.")

[II., June, 1839.]


Palace and ruin, bless thee evermore!
Grateful we bow thy gloomy tow'rs before;
For the old King of France^[1] hath found in thee
That melancholy hospitality
Which in their royal fortune's evil day,
Stuarts and Bourbons to each other pay.

Fraser's Magazine.

Victor-Marie Hugo

Victor-Marie Hugo was a French poet, novelist, and dramatist of the Romantic movement. He is considered one of the greatest French writers, with works such as "Les Misérables" and "The Hunchback of Notre-Dame." His literary works often explore themes of justice, love, and human rights. In addition to his literary achievements, he was also a politician and human rights activist. Hugo's influence extends beyond literature into politics and society.

Victor-Marie Hugo

To The Cannon "Victor Hugo."

Victor-Marie Hugo, Simple Poetry

The Fay And The Peri.

Victor-Marie Hugo, Simple Poetry

The Degenerate Gallants.

Victor-Marie Hugo, Simple Poetry

Esmeralda In Prison.

Victor-Marie Hugo, Simple Poetry

English

Suggested Poems

Explore a curated selection of verses that share themes, styles, and emotional resonance with the poem you've just read.

The Blinded Bourbons.

("Qui leur eût dit l'austère destineé?")

[II. v., November, 1836.]


Who then, to them^[1] had told the Future's story?
Or said that France, low bowed before their glory,
One day would mindful be
Of them and of their mournful fate no more,

Than of the wrecks its waters have swept o'er
The unremembering sea?

That their old Tuileries should see the fall
Of blazons from its high heraldic hall,
Dismantled, crumbling, prone;^[2]
Or that, o'er yon dark Louvre's architrave^[3]
A Corsican, as yet unborn, should grave
An eagle, then unknown?

That gay St. Cloud another lord awaited,
Or that in scenes Le Nôtre's art created
For princely sport and ease,
Crimean steeds, trampling the velvet ...

Victor-Marie Hugo

To Henry the Fifth

My youth was passing, Sire, whilst you among
The cradle-wrappings slept; my morning-song
Sung oer your pillow. Winds of heaven have thrown
Us both, since then, on heights apart and lone.
Heights! For misfortune drear, our destined land,
So thunder-scarred, a-nigh to heaven must stand!
The north and south are nearer than our ways
Are near to one another; and Fate lays
The purple round you, and has not withheld
Our Frances sceptre-dazzlements of eld.
I, crowned with silver hairs, say, praising you,
Well done! That man is to his manhood true
Who bravely, at his own behest, will do
High deeds of self -undoing; will forego
All, all, save immemorial Honour; though
She seem to earthlier eyes a phantom, more
Will follow her (as erst in Elsinore
One faithful h...

Mary Hannay Foott

Victor Hugo.

    Victor the King! alive to-day, not dead!
    Behold, I bring thee with a subject's hand
    A poor pale wreath, the best at my command,
    But all unfit to deck so grand a head.
    It is the outcome of a neighbour land
    Denounced of thee, and spurn'd for many years.
    It is the token of a nation's tears
    Which oft has joy'd in thee, and shall again.
    Love for thy hate, applause for thy disdain, -
    These are the flowers we spread upon thy hearse.
    We give thee back, to-day, thy poet-curse;
    We call thee friend; we ratify thy reign.
    Kings change their sceptres for a funeral stone,
    But thou hast turn'd thy tomb into a throne!

Eric Mackay

On Hearing The Princess Royal[1] Sing.

("Dans ta haute demeure.")

[Bk. III. ix., 1881.]


In thine abode so high
Where yet one scarce can breathe,
Dear child, most tenderly
A soft song thou dost wreathe.

Thou singest, little girl -
Thy sire, the King is he:
Around thee glories whirl,
But all things sigh in thee.

Thy thought may seek not wings
Of speech; dear love's forbidden;
Thy smiles, those heavenly things,
Being faintly born, are chidden.

Thou feel'st, poor little Bride,
A hand unknown and chill
Clasp thine from out the wide
Deep shade so deathly still.

Thy sad heart, wingless, weak,
Is sunk in this black shade
So deep, thy small hands seek,
Vainly, the pulse God made.

Thou art yet but highness, thou
That sh...

Victor-Marie Hugo

The Father's Curse.

("Vous, sire, écoutez-moi.")

[LE ROI S'AMUSE, Act I.]


M. ST. VALLIER (an aged nobleman, from whom King Francis I. decoyed his daughter, the famous beauty, Diana of Poitiers).

A king should listen when his subjects speak:
'Tis true your mandate led me to the block,
Where pardon came upon me, like a dream;
I blessed you then, unconscious as I was
That a king's mercy, sharper far than death,
To save a father doomed his child to shame;
Yes, without pity for the noble race
Of Poitiers, spotless for a thousand years,
You, Francis of Valois, without one spark
Of love or pity, honor or remorse,
Did on that night (thy couch her virtue's tomb),
With cold embraces, foully bring to scorn
My helpless daughter, Dian of Poitiers.
To save...

Victor-Marie Hugo

Prayer For France.

("O Dieu, si vous avez la France.")

[VII., August, 1832.]


O God! if France be still thy guardian care,
Oh! spare these mercenary combats, spare!
The thrones that now are reared but to be broke;
The rights we render, and anon revoke;
The muddy stream of laws, ideas, needs,
Flooding our social life as it proceeds;
Opposing tribunes, even when seeming one -
Soft, yielding plaster put in place of stone;
Wave chasing wave in endless ebb and flow;
War, darker still and deeper in its woe;
One party fall'n, successor scarce preludes,
Than, straight, new views their furious feuds;
The great man's pressure on the poor for gold,
Rumors uncertain, conflicts, crimes untold;
Dark systems hatched in secret and in fear,
Telling of hate and strife...

Victor-Marie Hugo