To the Great Chartreuse

Poem by Alphonse De Lamartine Collection New Poetic MeditationsPeriod 19th century

Jehovah has consecrated the peaks of the earth;
They are the divine footstool of his steps,
It is there that, surrounded by his sublime thunderbolts,
He flies, he descends, he sits.

Sinai, Olympus itself, keep the trace of it;
Horeb, trembling, bowed beneath his steps;
Thor heard his voice, Gilboa saw his face;
Golgotha wept for his death.

God whom Hebron knows, God whom Cedar adores,
Your glory once unveiled itself to these rocks;
On the summit of the mountains we still seek you;
Lord, answer us! are you there?

Peaceful inhabitants of these holy retreats,
As the guides of Israel heard it,
In the calm of the nights, from the heights where you are,
Do you then hear nothing from heaven?

Do you never see the divine phalanxes
Descend and bend over your sacred domes?
Do you never hear the sweet concerts of the angels
Echoing from the rock?

What! the soul in vain looks, aspires, implores, listens;
Between heaven and us, is there a wall of brass?
Your eyes, forever raised toward the celestial vault,
Are your eyes raised in vain?

To leap, Lord, where your voice calls them,
The stars of the night have chariots of sapphire,
To rise to you, the eagle at least has his wing;
We have nothing but our sighs!

Let the voice of your saints rise and disarm you,
The prayer of the just is the incense of mortals;
And we, sinners, pass by: we have only one tear
To shed upon your altars.

Alphonse de Lamartine

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