Thought of Byron

Poem by Gérard De Nerval Period 19th century

Elegy

By my love and my constancy,
I had thought to soften your rigor,
And the breath of hope
Had penetrated into my heart;
But time, which in vain I prolong,
Has revealed the truth to me,
Hope has fled like a dream…
And my love alone has remained to me!

It has remained like an abyss
Between my life and happiness,
Like an evil of which I am the victim,
Like a weight cast upon my heart!
To flee the trap in which I succumb,
My efforts would be superfluous;
For man has his foot in the grave,
When hope no longer sustains him.

I loved to awaken the lyre,
And often, full of sweet transports,
I dared, moved by delirium,
To draw from it tender chords.
How many times, shedding tears,
I have sung your divine charms!
My accents were full of charms,
For it was you who inspired them.

That time is no more, and delirium
No longer comes to animate my voice;
I do not find on my lyre
The sounds it once had.
In the sorrow that devours me,
I see my fair days flying away;
If my eye still sparkles,
It is that a tear is about to flow!

Let us break the cup of life;
Its liquor is nothing but poison;
It pleased my folly,
But it intoxicated my reason.
Too long enamored of a vain dream,
Glory! love! you held my heart:
O Glory! you are but a lie;
Love! you are not happiness!

Gérard de Nerval

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