The Feast Of Freedom.

("Lorsqu'à l'antique Olympe immolant l'evangile.")

[Bk. II. v., 1823.]

[There was in Rome one antique usage as follows: On the eve of the execution day, the sufferers were given a public banquet - at the prison gate - known as the "Free Festival." - CHATEAUBRIAND'S "Martyrs."]


TO YE KINGS.

When the Christians were doomed to the lions of old
By the priest and the praetor, combined to uphold
        An idolatrous cause,
Forth they came while the vast Colosseum throughout
Gathered thousands looked on, and they fell 'mid the shout
        Of "the People's" applause.

On the eve of that day of their evenings the last!
At the gates of their dungeon a gorgeous repast,
        Rich, unstinted, unpriced,
That the doomed might (forsooth) gather strength ere they bled,
With an ignorant pity the jailers would spread
        For the martyrs of Christ.

Oh, 'twas strange for a pupil of Paul to recline
On voluptuous couch, while Falernian wine
        Fill'd his cup to the brim!
Dulcet music of Greece, Asiatic repose,
Spicy fragrance of Araby, Italian rose,
        All united for him!

Every luxury known through the earth's wide expanse,
In profusion procured was put forth to enhance
        The repast that they gave;
And no Sybarite, nursed in the lap of delight,
Such a banquet ere tasted as welcomed that night
        The elect of the grave.

And the lion, meantime, shook his ponderous chain,
Loud and fierce howled the tiger, impatient to stain
        The bloodthirsty arena;
Whilst the women of Rome, who applauded those deeds
And who hailed the forthcoming enjoyment, must needs
        Shame the restless hyena.

They who figured as guests on that ultimate eve,
In their turn on the morrow were destined to give
        To the lions their food;
For, behold, in the guise of a slave at that board,
Where his victims enjoyed all that life can afford,
        Death administering stood.

Such, O monarchs of earth! was your banquet of power,
But the tocsin has burst on your festival hour -
        'Tis your knell that it rings!
To the popular tiger a prey is decreed,
And the maw of Republican hunger will feed
        On a banquet of Kings!

"FATHER PROUT" (FRANK MAHONY)

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

The Children Of The Poor.

Victor-Marie Hugo, Simple Poetry

A Queen Five Summers Old.

Victor-Marie Hugo, Simple Poetry

Poor Little Children.

Victor-Marie Hugo, Simple Poetry

The Blinded Bourbons.

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.

Imperial Revels.

("Courtisans! attablés dans le splendide orgie.")

[Bk. I. x., Jersey, December, 1852.]


Cheer, courtiers! round the banquet spread -
The board that groans with shame and plate,
Still fawning to the sham-crowned head
That hopes front brazen turneth fate!
Drink till the comer last is full,
And never hear in revels' lull,
Grim Vengeance forging arrows fleet,
    Whilst I gnaw at the crust
    Of Exile in the dust -
But Honor makes it sweet!

Ye cheaters in the tricksters' fane,
Who dupe yourself and trickster-chief,
In blazing cafés spend the gain,
But draw the blind, lest at his thief
Some fresh-made beggar gives a glance
And interrupts with steel the dance!
But let him toilsomely tramp by,
    As ...

Victor-Marie Hugo

Marriage And Feasts.

("La salle est magnifique.")

[IV. Aug. 23, 1839.]


The hall is gay with limpid lustre bright -
The feast to pampered palate gives delight -
The sated guests pick at the spicy food,
And drink profusely, for the cheer is good;
And at that table - where the wise are few -
Both sexes and all ages meet the view;
The sturdy warrior with a thoughtful face -
The am'rous youth, the maid replete with grace,
The prattling infant, and the hoary hair
Of second childhood's proselytes - are there; -
And the most gaudy in that spacious hall,
Are e'er the young, or oldest of them all
Helmet and banner, ornament and crest,
The lion rampant, and the jewelled vest,
The silver star that glitters fair and white,
The arms that tell of many a nation's mig...

Victor-Marie Hugo

The Hermit's Sacrifice.

From Rome's palaces and villas
    Gaily issued forth a throng;
From her humbler habitations
    Moved a human tide along.

Haughty dames and blooming maidens,
    Men who knew not mercy's sway,
Thronged into the Coliseum
    On that Roman holiday.

From the lonely wilds of Asia,
    From her jungles far away,
From the distant torrid regions,
    Rome had gathered beasts of prey.

Lions restless, roaring, rampant,
    Tigers with their stealthy tread,
Leopards bright, and fierce, and fiery,
    Met in conflict wild and dread.

Fierce and fearful was the carnage
    Of the maddened beasts of prey,
As they fought and rent each other
    Urged by men more fierce than they.

Till like muffled thunders breaking
    ...

Frances Ellen Watkins Harper

The Sacking Of The City.

("La flamme par ton ordre, O roi!")

[XXIII., November, 1825.]


Thy will, O King, is done! Lighting but to consume,
The roar of the fierce flames drowned even the shouts and shrieks;
Reddening each roof, like some day-dawn of bloody doom,
Seemed they in joyous flight to dance about their wrecks.

Slaughter his thousand giant arms hath tossed on high,
Fell fathers, husbands, wives, beneath his streaming steel;
Prostrate, the palaces, huge tombs of fire, lie,
While gathering overhead the vultures scream and wheel!

Died the pale mothers, and the virgins, from their arms,
O Caliph, fiercely torn, bewailed their young years' blight;
With stabs and kisses fouled, all their yet quivering charms,
At our fleet coursers' heels were dragged in mocking ...

Victor-Marie Hugo

Mentana. [1]

(VICTOR HUGO TO GARIBALDI.)

("Ces jeunes gens, combien étaient-ils.")

[LA VOIX DE GUERNESEY, December, 1868.]


I.

Young soldiers of the noble Latin blood,
How many are ye - Boys? Four thousand odd.
How many are there dead? Six hundred: count!
Their limbs lie strewn about the fatal mount,
Blackened and torn, eyes gummed with blood, hearts rolled
Out from their ribs, to give the wolves of the wold
A red feast; nothing of them left but these
Pierced relics, underneath the olive trees,
Show where the gin was sprung - the scoundrel-trap
Which brought those hero-lads their foul mishap.
See how they fell in swathes - like barley-ears!
Their crime? to claim Rome and her glories theirs;
To fight for Right and Honor; - foolish names!<...

Victor-Marie Hugo

Battle Of The Norsemen And The Gaels.

("Accourez tous, oiseaux de proie!")

[VII., September, 1825.]


Ho! hither flock, ye fowls of prey!
Ye wolves of war, make no delay!
For foemen 'neath our blades shall fall
Ere night may veil with purple pall.
The evening psalms are nearly o'er,
And priests who follow in our train
Have promised us the final gain,
And filled with faith our valiant corps.

Let orphans weep, and widows brood!
To-morrow we shall wash the blood
Off saw-gapped sword and lances bent,
So, close the ranks and fire the tent!
And chill yon coward cavalcade
With brazen bugles blaring loud,
E'en though our chargers' neighing proud
Already has the host dismayed.

Spur, horsemen, spur! the charge resounds!
On Gaelic spear the Northman bounds!

Victor-Marie Hugo