The Departure

Poem by François-René De Chateaubriand Collection Miscellaneous PoemsThemes Death, DreamsPeriod 19th century

Companions, detach from the arches of the portico
These traveler’s gifts, this ancient garment,
Which I had consecrated to the hospitable gods.
To steady my steps in the coming journey,
Place back in my hand the old oaken staff
That rested by my hearth.

Where shall I go to die? In the woods of Florida?
On the banks of the Jordan, in the mountains of the Thebaid?
Or shall I go again to that renowned shore,
To a people freed by the efforts of the brave,
To ask for the sleep that enslaved Eurotas
Offered me in its fragrant bed?

Ah! what does the place matter? Never a bit of earth,
In the potter’s field, beneath the solitary tree,
Can fail the bones of the stranger’s son.
At least no one will laugh at my death come to pass;
Of the pilgrim seated on my unknown tomb
At least the step will be light.

Chateaubriand

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