LYRICS AND POEMS TRANSLATIONS BY EDITH DEAKE BROWNE PORTLAND, MAINE SMITH & SALE, PRINTERS 19IS COPYRIGHT igi5 BY EDITH DEAKE BROWNE FEB 171915 S)CIA39175G ^q3 lyric \ ^^ <^ "^ (A very dark night, during a Calm, under \\ ^ ^ the Equator) \ Number and Time are fallen, and Space From out the firmament's black steeps To the sea's sombre, still embrace. Utterly does the night efface, A shroud of silent gloom, it keeps All Time, all Number and all Space. Like dying years, with stolid face The Soul to sleeping, freightless deeps, To the sea's sombre, still embrace Within itself, to darkest place. Its memories, dreams and wishes sweeps. And Time and Number and all Space, To dim oblivion's calm embrace. By LECONTE DE LISLE Translated by Edith Deake Browne 36 State St., Portland, Maine THE MILKY WAY To the misty stars I said : " Why thus sadly gleams your light ? Why is mournful message sped Through uncounted leagues of night ? " In the firmament I see White-clad virgins marching slow, Steep ways threading wearily By their tapers' flickering glow. " Walk you under some fell ban, Praying always as you tread, That in radiance so wan More of tears than light you shed ? " You, the stars, the ancestors. Both of creatures and of gods, — Are you in the Parcae's laws Snared, and menaced by their rods ? " Fell the faint reply, afar : " Mortal, see our hopeless plight ; Sisters thou believest we are, Each caressing each with light. " Sisters, yes, but dwelling each Far from each in trackless space ; Doomed our tender beams to reach Only night's unanswering face." Starward bore my echoing mood : "You are like the human soul, In a boundless solitude Wasting, never near its goal. But the veil of distant day Is your broideries' cloudy gold ; Cheer to worlds upon their way Is the promise it doth hold. Fain like destiny to earn, Shall the seer, with steadfast gaze Joyous paths of use discern Through the coming eons' haze. From rhe French of SULLY PRUDHOMME (With two additional stanzas by the translator, Edith Deake Browne) 36 State St., Portland, Maine FRENCH AND ENGLISH SONG Each little maiden — All, in a ring, Where woods, leaf-laden Soft shadows fling ! ANSON DE GRAND-PERE sez, les petites filles, outes en rond. i^ous voyant si gentilles, es bois riront. isez, les petites reines, outes en rond. amoureux sou les frenes ' embrasseront. isez, les petites folles, 'outes en rond. bouquins dans les ecoles ourgeonneront. isez, les petites belles, outes en rond. oiseaux avec leurs ailes .pplaudiront. GRANDFATHER'S SONG Gazing as such pretty maids Dance in a ring, Merrily the sylvan shades Laugh as they swing. Circle, tiny queens and sweet, All in a ring. Lovers 'neath the trees will meet, Fond vows to bring. Books may bud and bloom, while vain Their ding-dong ding : Madcaps, dance, escaped their reign All in a ring ! To the wee belles' flying feet All in a ring. Birds their gay applause shall beat With flap of wing. Dansez, les petites fees, Toutes en rond. Dansez, de bluets coiffees, L'aurore au front. Dansez, les petites femmes, Toutes en rond. Les messieurs diront aux dames Ce qu' ils voudront. Coiffed with blue flowers, elfins, race, All in a ring ; Bright dawn shining in the face Of each small thing. Mimic women, lightly glide All in a ring. Soon the days when you will bide What lovers sing. . By Victor Hugo [L' Art d' etre Grand-Pere) Translated by Edith Deake Browne 36 State St., Portland, Maine KOMOR AND TIPHAINE (Lord and Lady of the Castle of Kemper) BY LECONTE DE LISLE (Barbaric Poems) Where errant moon her brilliant causeway paves Or walks, cloud-dimmed above where ocean laves Brittany's verge, there, in the froth of waves Komor's stronghold opposed the storms with front And lofty bulk unchanged. So, in its hunt For prey the bird poised high in air is wont To scan the deep. Fell a complaining vast On all the coast. Mist throbbed upon the waste As ' t were drowned souls unshriven there outcast. On darkened ramparts drummed the racing hail; To cope with steadfast chains the blast did fail, But on the slopes the trees bent to its wail. Strewed with snapped oaken branches lay the wold, Anon by direful shriek was frequent told That to the cormorant's aim its prize was doled. Within his sea-gnawed fastness its proud chief, Mail-clad, paced in the torchlight, rent by grief To which his ceaseless tread brought no relief. To the increasing outer combat numb He clutched at his unquiet heart, as, dumb One feels in evil dream some terror come. Vigorous, tall was he, stranger to fears, But on his hard, gray-bearded face the tears Attesting that he knew the woe which sears. Ready as if for sacrifices crude A weapon, a stained block as altar, stood Beneath the downward gaze of pendent rood. Moaned Komor, grieving, as with anguish shrunk, Low on his knees before the Christ he sunk : " Will ne'er be done the office of that monk ? " Then with the glide of sandaled, slow footfall. Parting the curtains hanging like a pall, Came the confessor to the mournful hall. " My lord as you commanded I have done; But heed this hour the precept of God's Son ! Such mercy show as for us He hath won." To this entreaty, Komor made reply : " Priest, come not further than thy part doth lie ; She who despised life's holiest bond must die. " But think not base-born serf her doom shall tell." The friar withdrew, and Komor smote a bell Sounding with heavy hand the fateful knell. Sinister pealed the summons forth till lost In low, far arches where 'neath armor crossed, ' Fearless, reproachless ' slept the ancestral host. Then was a stillness; — till the sea forsook Its wonted place and with exasperate look The fissured staircase of its borders shook. Now, coming slowly ('seeing, who would not weep?') A figure, calm as one whom angels keep. Entered as if detached from shadows deep. Tiphaine, untrembling, with unshaking knee. The block, the sheathless sword, Christ on His Tree, And her implacable, harsh spouse could see. Gazing while she stood meekly as a dove, — Said Komor to Tiphaine : (strange was his love ! ) " For sin like thine thou must account above." " I shall of Saint Anne, Mary, Christ, obtain Peace," she replied ; " Sir lord, God still thy pain ! " - " Of Vanne's fair house unworthy child, Tiphaine, "Unfit the honor of thy sires to share. Opprobrium of the name which thou dost wear, Thy pardon beg the Saviour to declare. "Long I have suffered thee, I yet can wait." And Komor backward drew, not voicing hate. And 'neath her golden hair, as day grew late. Flecked with the torchlight glancing in the shade, While the knife's glittering threat was briefly stayed And night unrolled its numerous sounds, she prayed ; - But soon in rapturous dream forgot her plight, Recalled her brow with freshest roses dight In former time of joyousness and light When in her innocence, O Virgin kind, Her guileless offerings where thou wast enshrined Were flowers of sweet aroma, prayer-entwined. Crowned was she also in her dream, forsooth, With bloom of ageless love in dew of youth ; — Bright vision of hope and faith in very truth ! 9 Soon burst a storm full-like to this now wrought In seas' and winds' wild tumult; — she, distraught, Had bent to Komor's wrath, his mercy sought. But when, in numbing calm forbore to roll Love's mighty waves, stilled in her deepest soul, — Again his coming re-awaked the whole, Who once her being had stirred, whom now she will, Mayhap, rejoin : (for vengeance swift its fill Had not delayed to take, his blood to spill On Komor's steel) who had, presumptuous, gained From Komor's shield its gem and thus profaned The scutcheon : — of its fairness naught remained. Rousing Tiphaine, said Komor : " Tell me how Thou bearest just decree. Dost to it bow ? Repent and wash with blood thy trespass now ; " I would not with thy flesh thy soul destroy." Replied Tiphaine : " Thine ire is due, my joy Is that I evermore without alloy " Will love him. But God's clemency I ask, — And of thee that thou dost perform thy task." Gravely then answered Komor : " From thy mask lO " Depart ! Another Judge thy cause must sift : Thy treason makes life but a widening rift." Then pausing only her soft hair to lift Tiphaine approached the block and on it laid Her lovely head. Swift did the hissing blade Descend. Thus was her expiation made. Her soul being fled, upraised then her lord Her fallen corse from which the life still poured — And head with vacant eyes, as 't were some hoard Most precious. Mounting then the turret's height Which spied unceasing on the sea-bird's flight, He cast his burden to the furious night. From storm-swept battlement he saw unfurl, As to receive some lost and priceless pearl, The hungry depths of the abyss's whirl. Then on his white, dishonored head with sigh Making the sacred sign, intent to die, Uttering, as all-bereft, a bitter cry Which far the mighty wind through great trees bore, He, arms outstretched, into the sea leaped o'er Which gave not back his bones upon its shore. So died Tiphaine and Kemper's lord, Komor. [Free] Translation by Edith Deake Browne 36 State St., Portland, Maine 1 1 TO MY SOUL Fly, spotless soul, that body worn ; Fly, singing, towards the unknown bourn ! I envied not, in youth and strength. Closed eyes the cere-cloth's pressure chill ; In the great woods, through richest length, I wandered at unsated will : Anon the elements and fear Weighted with thought my gazing eyes Soon bandaged close with sweat and tear. Ending illusion and surprise. Fly, spotless soul, that body worn ; Fly, singing, towards the unknown bourn ! Dust-powdered from a stormy route, Weary, I slip on wavering sands ; But now, poor traveler, naught doth moot ; Yonder oasis opening stands ; The rolling heavens, gemmed, cloudless, see To bathe thee in their purest deep Swing, lily-girt, the blue waves free — Cast on the bank thy tatters, leap ! Fly, spotless soul, that body worn ; Fly, singing, towards the unknown bourn ! 12 Fly, pitying not that fleshly thing ! When sin's light ways thou saw'st me keep, But yesterday, thou felt'st thy wing, In durance pining and didst weep : Wasted by fever now I die. And, Captive Bird in densest copse. Art daunted of (that thou dost sigh) The gust that now thy prison opes ? Fly, spotless soul, that body worn ; Fly, singing, towards the unknown bourn ! When, led by pleasure's phantom lust But finding not the manna craved. Befooled, my hunger fed on dust And learned the paths with errors paved — Not thou, O sleeping Dove and white, Consenting or accomplice, spoiled; No, fianced to the Infinite Thou goest to thy Spouse unsoiled. Fly, trembling not, that body worn ; Fly, singing, towards the unknown bourn ! From where in peace the Infinite broods, Thy comrades' struggle thou shalt cheer ; When, thoughtless in their playful moods, Thou see'st the fair-haired children near 13 The flower-veiled graves ; — on crumbled tomb Fall fruits for which this clay is spent, — Not poppies' mere but choicer bloom Most strange, shall greet thee, — thy content. Fly, spotless soul, that body worn ; Fly, singing, towards the unknown bourn ! By HEGESIPPE MOREAU [Free] Translation by Edith Deake Browne May fourth, 1902 36 State St., Portland, Maine 14 ANSWER Enter, A Christian Fly not, O Soul, that body worn, Unguided to the unknown bourn ! God give thee pause, O sin-tossed Soul, Lest beauteous visions chimeras be. Lest star-gemmed heavens that beckoning roll Be trackless space, uncharted sea ; Lest the fair oasis be a dream. The lilies rudely fretted stones 'Gainst which the alluring billows gleam With ripple soft ere tempest moans 1 Fly not, O Soul, that body worn, Guideless toward the unknown bourn ! Amidst the desert's fiery sands, As 'twere a mountain fortress bold, A Rock,^ a Being, protecting stands. Shelter and Guide by sage foretold : — That Being the unmeasured space had mapped Before its gemming orbs emerged In His resistless laws enwrapped Whose power incessant through them surged. I Isaiah xxxii : 2. IS Fly not, O Soul, that body worn. Defenceless to the unknown bourn ! The prophet warns in words austere, Pleads with thee loftiest strain of muse Adown the march of centuries drear. The succor of that Shield to choose. Speak' to that Rock once smitten^ for thee. And through the rift to Its deep Heart Thy whisper faint will surely flee As bird from prisoning cage would dart. Fly not, O Soul, that body worn, Helpless unto the unknown bourn ! Sure is that Refuge. Would'st thou proof ? The Message glows from history's dawn ; First kept by mystic Race aloof The wondrous lore, — then, later, borne Through Close and Crypt and Cell and Dark Till speech of every human clan Its chariot is, its covenant ark. Do wings of brooding cherub span ? Fly not, O Soul, that body worn, Lonely, toward the unknown bourn ! 1 Numbers xx : 8. 2 Exodus XVII : 6. i6 Word, shown of old in constant type, Judge, Elder, King attest its truth : Its Promise, bloomed, when time grew ripe Is witnessed, sealed, through weal and ruth, In valiant strife, in blood outpoured Of Apostle, Martyr (each whose name Is in the shining record stored) And myriads lost to earthly fame. Fly not, O Soul, that body worn, Alone, unto the unknown bourn ! Flowing replete with undreamed good, Behold the Hands that reach for thee, Bearing renewing lave and Food And magnet : He hath voyaged that sea : Its speeding isles and their far goal Confess their only Master, Him, Thy Captain and thy Course, O Soul, Discern through fading light and dim. Fly not, O Soul, that body worn, Unguided, to the unknown bourn ! By the translator, Edith Deake Browne 36 State Street, Portland, Maine 17 LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 015 799 903 5 •