TAEDIUM VITAE

La chair est triste, hélas, et j'ai lu tous les livres.

Ne suis-je pas un faux accord

ns la divine symphonie,

Grâce à la vorace Ironie

Qui me secoue et qui me mord?

Pour qui sait pénétrer, Nature, dans tes voies,
L'illusion t'enserre et ta surface ment:

Au fond de tes fureurs comme au fond de tes joies,
Ta force est sans ivresse et sans emportement.

Tel, parmi les sanglots, les rires et les haines,
Heureux qui porte en soi, d'indifférence empli,
Un impassible cœur, sourd aux rumeurs humaines,
Un gouffre inviolé de silence et d'oubli!

La vie a beau frémir autour de ce cœur morne,
Muet comme un ascète absorbé par son Dieu;
Tout roule sans écho dans son ombre sans borne
Et rien n'y luit du ciel, hormis un trait de feu.
Mais ce peu de lumière à ce néant fidèle
C'est le reflet perdu des espaces meilleurs;
C'est ton rapide éclair, espérance éternelle!
Qui l'éveille en sa tombe et le convie ailleurs.

Autumn Song

KNOW'ST thou not at the fall of the leaf
How the heart feels a languid grief

Laid on it for a covering,

And how sleep seems a goodly thing

In Autumn at the fall of the leaf?

And how the swift beat of the brain
Falters because it is in vain,

In Autumn at the fall of the leaf,
Knowest thou not? and how the chief
Of joys seems not to suffer pain?
Know'st thou not at the fall of the leaf
How the soul feels like a dried sheaf
Bound up at length for harvesting,
And how death seems a comely thing
In Autumn at the fall of the leaf?

DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI.

Fame, Love, and Youth

LOOK down, look down from your glittering heights
And tell us, ye sons of glory,

The joys and the pangs of your eagle flights,
The triumph that crowned the story—

The rapture that thrilled when the goal was won,

The goal of a life's desire;

And a voice replied from the setting sun—

Nay, the dearest and best lies nigher.

How oft in such hours our fond thoughts stray
To the dream of two idle lovers;

To the young wife's kiss; to the child at play,
Or the grave which the long grass covers;

And little we'd reck of

power and gold,

And of all life's vain endeavour,

If the heart could glow as it glowed of old,
And if youth could abide for ever.

WILLIAM EDWARD HARTPOLE LECKY.

THE

Psyche

HE butterfly the ancient Grecians made
The soul's fair emblem, and its only name-

But of the soul, escaped the slavish trade
Of mortal life!-For in this earthly frame
Ours is the reptile's lot, much toil, much blame,
Manifold motions making little speed,

And to deform and kill the things whereon we feed.

SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE.

Philosopher

PHILOSOPHERS are lined with eyes within,

And, being so, the sage unmakes the man. In love, he cannot therefore cease his trade; Scarce the first blush has overspread his cheek, He feels it, introverts his learned eye

To catch the unconscious heart in the very act.

PHILOSOPHER

His mother died,—the only friend he had,-
Some tears escaped, but his philosophy
Couched like a cat sat watching close behind
And throttled all his passion. Is't not like
That devil-spider that devours her mate
Scarce freed from her embraces ?

RALPH WALDO EMERSON.

Mutability

E are as clouds that veil the midnight moon ;

WE

How restlessly they speed, and gleam, and quiver,
Streaking the darkness radiantly!--yet soon
Night closes round, and they are lost for ever:

Or like forgotten lyres, whose dissonant strings.
Give various response to each varying blast,
To whose frail frame no second motion brings
One mood or modulation like the last.

We rest. A dream has power to poison sleep;
We rise. One wandering thought pollutes the day;
We feel, conceive or reason, laugh or weep;
Embrace fond woe, or cast our cares away;

It is the same!—For, be it joy or sorrow,
The path of its departure still is free:
Man's yesterday may ne'er be like his morrow;
Naught may endure but Mutability.

PERCY BYSSHe Shelley