To Laure, Duchess of A.

Poem by Victor Hugo Collection Les Rayons et les OmbresPeriod 19th century

XII

TO LAURE, DUCHESS OF A.

Since they have not understood, in their narrow sphere,
That after so much splendor, power, and pride,
It was great and beautiful that France should give
The alms of a grave to your noble coffin[1];

Since they have not felt that she who without fear
Always praised glory and branded executioners
Has the right to sleep on the holy hill,
Has the right to sleep in the shadow of heroes;

Since the memory of our great battles
Does not burn in them like a sacred torch;
Since they have no heart; since they have no bowels;
Since they have refused you the stone of a tomb;

It is for us to sing a song of expiation!
It is for us to offer you our mourning on our knees!
It is for us, it is for us to take your memory
And bury it in a sad and gentle verse!

It is for us this time to guard, to defend
Death against oblivion, its pale companion;
It is for us to strew roses on your ashes;
It is for us to throw laurels on your name!

Since a stupid insult, poor sleeping woman,
Rises to your brow that Caesar starred,
It is for me, whose hand your friendly hand pressed,
To say to you softly: Fear nothing! I am here!

For I have my mission! For, armed with a lyre,
Full of irritated hymns eager to pour out,
I guard the treasure of the glories of the empire;
I have never suffered anyone to dare touch it!

For your heart abounded in faithful memories!
In our sinister sky and on our sad days,
Your noble spirit hovered with noble wings,
Like an eagle often, like an angel always!

For, strong for your ills and good for ours,
Delivered to the storm and woman prey to fate,
Never did you imitate the example of so many others,
And of a cowardice you did not make a port!

For you, the illustrious muse, and I, the obscure apostle,
We have in this world had the same mandate,
And it is a deep knot that joins us one to the other,
You, widow of a hero, and I, son of a soldier!

Also, without wearying, in this Babylon,
Kissing every shred of insulted flags,
I have said for the emperor: Give him back his column!
And I will say for you: Give her her tomb!

Victor Hugo

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