English

Scant majesty of stars prevails
across the uncreated night,
and fate is in the wind that wails
or clamours on the lonely height.

The hollow crystal of my winter dream
and silences, where thought for worship, white,
shimmer'd within the icy mirror-gleam,
vanishes down the flood of broader light.

The royal weft of arduous device
and starr'd with strangest gems, my shadowy pride
and ritual of illusive artifice
is shed away, leaving the naked side.

No more is set within the secret shrine.
a wonder wherein day nor night has part;
my passing makes the ways of earth divine
with the wild splendours of a mortal heart.

D.M. STÉPHANE MALLARMÉ

DEAD IN VALVINS

Red autumn in Valvins around thy bed
was watchful flame or yet thy spirit induced
might vanish away in magic gold diffused
and kingdom o'er the dreaming forest shed.

What god now claims thee priest, O chosen head,
most humble here that wast, for that thou knew'st
thro' what waste nights thy lucid gaze was used
to spell our glory in blazon'd ether spread?

Silence alone, that o'er the lonely song

XXXI.

His kindest words their doubts remove,
Confirm their wavering faith;
He bids them teach the world his love,
Salvation by his death.

XXXII.

Triumphant he ascends on high,
The glorious work compleat;
Sin, death, and hell, low vanquish'd lie
Beneath his awful feet.

XXXIII.

There with eternal glory crown'd,
The Lord, the conqueror reigns;

XXI.

Patient, the cruel scourge he bore:
The innocent, the kind!
Then to the rabble's lawless power
And rudest taunts consign'd.

XXII.

With thorns they crown that awful brow,
Whose srown can shake the globe;
And on their king in scorn bestow
The reed and purple robe.

XXIII.

Ah! see the fatal cross appears,
Heart-wounding, dreadful scene!

XI.

What blessings on a thankless race,
His bounteous hand bestow'd?
And from his tongue what wonderous grace,
What rich instruction flow'd?

XII.

The dumb, the deaf, the lame, the blind
Consess'd his healing power;
Disease and death their prey resign'd,
And grief complain'd no more.

XIII.

Infernal legions trembling fled,
Aw'd by his powerful word:

I.

Come heavenly love, inspire my song
With thy immortal flame,
And teach my heart, and teach my tongue
The Saviour's lovely name.

II.

The Saviour! O what endless charms
Dwell in the blissful sound!
Its influence every fear disarms,
And spreads sweet comfort round.

III.

Here pardon, life, and joys divine
In rich effusion flow,
For guilty rebels lost in sin,

I SAID TO THE ROSE .

I SAID to the Rose,
" Thy Palace close,
For the Summer is gone before! "
I said to the Lark,
" The Night is dark,
And the Morning will come no more! "

But behold, behold,
From the Misty Fold,
That beautiful Image seems,
With lifted veil,
To give me " Hail, "

THE VOICE .

A SAINTLY Voice fell on my ear
Out of the dewy atmosphere:
" O hush, dear Bird of Night, be mute;
Be still, O throbbing heart and lute! "
The Night-Bird shook the sparkling dew
Upon me as he ruffed and flew;
My heart was still, almost as soon,
My lute as silent as the moon:
I hushed my heart, and held my breath.
And would have died the death of death.
To hear, — but just once more, — to hear
That Voice within the atmosphere.

Again The Voice fell on my ear,

LA SCINTILLA .

" I LIE in the shadow of the Earth. "
Said I to my Soul,
" In the depths of mine abysmal birth;
And the Darkness is deep on my house and my hearth:
There is not a star, — there is not a spark, —
And my life it is exceeding dark,
My life is very dark. "

" O say not so! O say not so! "
(Said the Voice of my Soul,)
" For the Dawn will come and the Night will go:
Nay, nay, there is even now a glow