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.

February 26, 1802

May 22, 1885

French

Victor-Marie Hugo

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Cornflowers.

("Tandis que l'étoile inodore.")

[XXXII.]


While bright but scentless azure stars
Be-gem the golden corn,
And spangle with their skyey tint
The furrows not yet shorn;
While still the pure white tufts of May
Ape each a snowy ball, -
Away, ye merry maids, and haste
To gather ere they fall!

Nowhere the sun of Spain outshines
Upon a fairer town
Than Peñafiel, or endows
More richly farming clown;
Nowhere a broader square reflects
Such brilliant mansions, tall, -
Away, ye merry maids, etc.

Nowhere a statelier abbey rears
Dome huger o'er a shrine,
Though seek ye from old Rome itself
To even Seville fine.
Here countless pilgrims come to pray
And promenade the Mall, -
Away, ye merry maids, etc.

Victor-Marie Hugo

Cromwell And The Crown.

("Ah! je le tiens enfin.")

[CROMWELL, Act II., October, 1827.]


THURLOW communicates the intention of Parliament to
offer CROMWELL the crown.

CROMWELL. And is it mine? And have my feet at length
Attained the summit of the rock i' the sand?

THURLOW. And yet, my lord, you have long reigned.

CROM.        Nay, nay!
Power I have 'joyed, in sooth, but not the name.
Thou smilest, Thurlow. Ah, thou little know'st
What hole it is Ambition digs i' th' heart
What end, most seeming empty, is the mark
For which we fret and toil and dare! How hard
With an unrounded fortune to sit down!
Then, what a lustre from most ancient times
Heaven has flung o'er the sacred head of kings!
King - Majesty - what names of power! No ki...

Victor-Marie Hugo

Death, In Life.

("Ceux-ci partent.")

[Bk. III. v., February, 1843.]


We pass - these sleep
Beneath the shade where deep-leaved boughs
Bend o'er the furrows the Great Reaper ploughs,
And gentle summer winds in many sweep
Whirl in eddying waves
The dead leaves o'er the graves.

And the living sigh:
Forgotten ones, so soon your memories die.
Ye never more may list the wild bird's song,
Or mingle in the crowded city-throng.
Ye must ever dwell in gloom,
'Mid the silence of the tomb.

And the dead reply:
God giveth us His life. Ye die,
Your barren lives are tilled with tears,
For glory, ye are clad with fears.
Oh, living ones! oh, earthly shades!
We live; your beauty clouds and fades.

Victor-Marie Hugo

Dictated Before The Rhone Glacier.

("Souvent quand mon esprit riche.")

[VII., May 18, 1828.]


When my mind, on the ocean of poesy hurled,
Floats on in repose round this wonderful world,
Oft the sacred fire from heaven -
Mysterious sun, that gives light to the soul -
Strikes mine with its ray, and above the pole
Its upward course is driven,

Like a wandering cloud, then, my eager thought
Capriciously flies, to no guidance brought,
With every quarter's wind;
It regards from those radiant vaults on high,
Earth's cities below, and again doth fly,
And leaves but its shadow behind.

In the glistening gold of the morning bright,
It shines, detaching some lance of light,
Or, as warrior's armor rings;
It forages forests that ferment around,
Or bathed in the su...

Victor-Marie Hugo

Don Rodrigo. - A Moorish Ballad.

("Don Roderique est à la chasse.")

[XXX., May, 1828.]


Unto the chase Rodrigo's gone,
With neither lance nor buckler;
A baleful light his eyes outshone -
To pity he's no truckler.

He follows not the royal stag,
But, full of fiery hating,
Beside the way one sees him lag,
Impatient at the waiting.

He longs his nephew's blood to spill,
Who 'scaped (the young Mudarra)
That trap he made and laid to kill
The seven sons of Lara.

Along the road - at last, no balk -
A youth looms on a jennet;
He rises like a sparrow-hawk
About to seize a linnet.

"What ho!" "Who calls?" "Art Christian knight,
Or basely born and boorish,
Or yet that thing I still more slight -
The spawn of some dog Moorish?

Victor-Marie Hugo

Early Love Revisited.

("O douleur! j'ai voulu savoir.")

[XXXIV. i., October, 183-.]


I have wished in the grief of my heart to know
If the vase yet treasured that nectar so clear,
And to see what this beautiful valley could show
Of all that was once to my soul most dear.
In how short a span doth all Nature change,
How quickly she smoothes with her hand serene -
And how rarely she snaps, in her ceaseless range,
The links that bound our hearts to the scene.

Our beautiful bowers are all laid waste;
The fir is felled that our names once bore;
Our rows of roses, by urchins' haste,
Are destroyed where they leap the barrier o'er.
The fount is walled in where, at noonday pride,
She so gayly drank, from the wood descending;
In her fairy hand was transformed the...

Victor-Marie Hugo

Envy And Avarice.

("L'Avarice et l'Envie.")

[LE CONSERVATEUR LIITÉRAIRE, 1820.]


Envy and Avarice, one summer day,
Sauntering abroad
In quest of the abode
Of some poor wretch or fool who lived that way -
You - or myself, perhaps - I cannot say -
Along the road, scarce heeding where it tended,
Their way in sullen, sulky silence wended;

For, though twin sisters, these two charming creatures,
Rivals in hideousness of form and features,
Wasted no love between them as they went.
Pale Avarice,
With gloating eyes,
And back and shoulders almost double bent,
Was hugging close that fatal box
For which she's ever on the watch
Some glance to catch
Suspiciously directed to its locks;
And Envy, too, no doubt with silent winking
At her green, ...

Victor-Marie Hugo

Epitaph.

("Il vivait, il jouait.")

[Bk. III. xv., May, 1843.]


He lived and ever played, the tender smiling thing.
What need, O Earth, to have plucked this flower from blossoming?
Hadst thou not then the birds with rainbow-colors bright,
The stars and the great woods, the wan wave, the blue sky?
What need to have rapt this child from her thou hadst placed him by -
Beneath those other flowers to have hid this flower from sight?

Because of this one child thou hast no more of might,
O star-girt Earth, his death yields thee not higher delight!
But, ah! the mother's heart with woe for ever wild,
This heart whose sovran bliss brought forth so bitter birth -
This world as vast as thou, even thou, O sorrowless Earth,
Is desolate and void because of this o...

Victor-Marie Hugo

Esmeralda In Prison.

("Phoebus, n'est-il sur la terre?")

[OPERA OF "ESMERALDA," ACT IV., 1836.]


Phoebus, is there not this side the grave,
    Power to save
Those who're loving? Magic balm
That will restore to me my former calm?
Is there nothing tearful eye
Can e'er dry, or hush the sigh?
I pray Heaven day and night,
As I lay me down in fright,
To retake my life, or give
All again for which I'd live!
Phoebus, hasten from the shining sphere
    To me here!
Hither hasten, bring me Death; then Love
May let our spirits rise, ever-linked, above!

Victor-Marie Hugo

Expectation.

("Moune, écureuil.")

[xx.]


Squirrel, mount yon oak so high,
To its twig that next the sky
Bends and trembles as a flower!
Strain, O stork, thy pinion well, -
From thy nest 'neath old church-bell,
Mount to yon tall citadel,
And its tallest donjon tower!
To your mountain, eagle old,
Mount, whose brow so white and cold,
Kisses the last ray of even!
And, O thou that lov'st to mark
Morn's first sunbeam pierce the dark,
Mount, O mount, thou joyous lark -
Joyous lark, O mount to heaven!
And now say, from topmost bough,
Towering shaft, and peak of snow,
And heaven's arch - O, can you see
One white plume that like a star,
Streams along the plain afar,
And a steed that from the war
Bears my lover back to me?

Victor-Marie Hugo

Fact Or Fable?

(BISMARCK AND NAPOLEON III.)

("Un jour, sentant un royal appétit.")

[Bk. III. iii., Jersey, September, 1852.]


One fasting day, itched by his appetite,
A monkey took a fallen tiger's hide,
And, where the wearer had been savage, tried
To overpass his model. Scratch and bite
Gave place, however, to mere gnash of teeth and screams,
But, as he prowled, he made his hearers fly
With crying often: "See the Terror of your dreams!"
Till, for too long, none ventured thither nigh.
Left undisturbed to snatch, and clog his brambled den,
With sleepers' bones and plumes of daunted doves,
And other spoil of beasts as timid as the men,
Who shrank when he mock-roared, from glens and groves -
He begged his fellows view the crannies crammed with pelf

Victor-Marie Hugo

First Love.

("Vous êtes singulier.")

[MARION DELORME, Act I., June, 1829, played 1831.]

MARION (smiling.) You're strange, and yet I love you thus.

DIDIER.    You love me?
Beware, nor with light lips utter that word.
You love me! - know you what it is to love
With love that is the life-blood in one's veins,
The vital air we breathe, a love long-smothered,
Smouldering in silence, kindling, burning, blazing,
And purifying in its growth the soul.
A love that from the heart eats every passion
But its sole self; love without hope or limit,
Deep love that will outlast all happiness;
Speak, speak; is such the love you bear me?

MARION.    Truly.

DIDIER. Ha! but you do not know how I love you!
The day that first I saw you, the dark...

Victor-Marie Hugo

Freedom And The World.

[Inscription under a Statue of the Virgin and Child, at Guernsey. - The poet sees in the emblem a modern Atlas, i.e., Freedom supporting the World.]

("Le peuple est petit.")


Weak is the People - but will grow beyond all other -
Within thy holy arms, thou fruitful victor-mother!
O Liberty, whose conquering flag is never furled -
Thou bearest Him in whom is centred all the World.

Victor-Marie Hugo

Gastibelza.

("Gastibelza, l'homme à la carabine.")

[XXII., March, 1837.]


Gastibelza, with gun the measure beating,
    Would often sing:
"Has one o' ye with sweet Sabine been meeting,
    As, gay, ye bring
Your songs and steps which, by the music,
    Are reconciled -
Oh! this chill wind across the mountain rushing
    Will drive me wild!

"You stare as though you hardly knew my lady -
    Sabine's her name!
Her dam inhabits yonder cavern shady,
    A witch of shame,
Who shrieks o' nights upon the Haunted Tower,
    With horrors piled -
Oh! this chill wind, etc.

"Sing on and leap - enjoying all the favors
    Good heaven sends;
She, too, was young - her lips had peachy savors
    With honey blends;
Give to that ...

Victor-Marie Hugo

Genius.

(DEDICATED TO CHATEAUBRIAND.)

[Bk. IV. vi., July, 1822.]


Woe unto him! the child of this sad earth,
    Who, in a troubled world, unjust and blind,
Bears Genius - treasure of celestial birth,
    Within his solitary soul enshrined.
Woe unto him! for Envy's pangs impure,
    Like the undying vultures', will be driven
Into his noble heart, that must endure
Pangs for each triumph; and, still unforgiven,
Suffer Prometheus' doom, who ravished fire from Heaven.

Still though his destiny on earth may be
    Grief and injustice; who would not endure
With joyful calm, each proffered agony;
    Could he the prize of Genius thus ensure?
What mortal feeling kindled in his soul
    That clear celestial flame, so pure and high,
O'er which nor tim...

Victor-Marie Hugo

Guitar Song.

("Comment, disaient-ils.")

[XXIII., July 18, 1838.]


How shall we flee sorrow - flee sorrow? said he.
How, how! How shall we flee sorrow - flee sorrow? said he.
How - how - how? answered she.

How shall we see pleasure - see pleasure? said he.
How, how! How shall we see pleasure - see pleasure? said he.
Dream - dream - dream! answered she.

How shall we be happy - be happy? said he.
How, how! How shall we be happy - be happy? said he.
Love - love - love! whispered she.

EVELYN JERROLD

Victor-Marie Hugo

Have You Nothing To Say For Yourself?

("Si vous n'avez rien à me dire.")

[Bk. II. iv., May, 18 - .]


Speak, if you love me, gentle maiden!
Or haunt no more my lone retreat.
If not for me thy heart be laden,
Why trouble mine with smiles so sweet?

Ah! tell me why so mute, fair maiden,
Whene'er as thus so oft we meet?
If not for me thy heart be, Aideen,
Why trouble mine with smiles so sweet?

Why, when my hand unconscious pressing,
Still keep untold the maiden dream?
In fancy thou art thus caressing
The while we wander by the stream.

If thou art pained when I am near thee,
Why in my path so often stray?
For in my heart I love yet fear thee,
And fain would fly, yet fondly stay.

C.H. KENNY.

Victor-Marie Hugo

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

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