The
whistling
wind alone is heard:
Farewell!
Farewell!
Hugo - Poems
_("Adieu, patrie. ")_
[Bk. V. ix. , Aug. 1, 1852. ]
Farewell the strand,
The sails expand
Above!
Farewell the land
We love!
Farewell, old home where apples swing!
Farewell, gay song-birds on the wing!
Farewell, riff-raff
Of Customs' clerks who laugh
And shout:
"Farewell! " We'll quaff
One bout
To thee, young lass, with kisses sweet!
Farewell, my dear--the ship flies fleet!
The fog shuts out the last fond peep,
As 'neath the prow the cast drops weep.
Farewell, old home, young lass, the bird!
The whistling wind alone is heard:
Farewell! Farewell!
THE RETREAT FROM MOSCOW.
_("Il neigeait. ")_
[Bk. V. xiii. , Nov. 25-30, 1852. ]
It snowed. A defeat was our conquest red!
For once the eagle was hanging its head.
Sad days! the Emperor turned slowly his back
On smoking Moscow, blent orange and black.
The winter burst, avalanche-like, to reign
Over the endless blanched sheet of the plain.
Nor chief nor banner in order could keep,
The wolves of warfare were 'wildered like sheep.
