Yea; past scant-buried victims, hard-spurring sturdy steed,
A mute and grisly rider is trampling grass and weed,
And by the black-sealed warrant which in his grasp shines clear,
I known it is _the Future_--God's Justicer is here!
A mute and grisly rider is trampling grass and weed,
And by the black-sealed warrant which in his grasp shines clear,
I known it is _the Future_--God's Justicer is here!
Hugo - Poems
Bear back your spectral Brutus
From robber Bonaparte;
Time rarely will refute us
Who doom the hateful heart.
Ye shall be o'ercontented,
My banished mates from home,
But be no rashness vented
Ere time for joy shall come.
No crime can outspeed Justice,
Who, resting, seems delayed--
Full faith accord the angel
Who points the patient blade.
The traitor still may nestle
In balmy bed of state,
But mark the Warder, watching
His guardsman at his gate.
He wears the crown, a monarch--
Of knaves and stony hearts;
But though they're blessed by Senates,
None can escape the darts!
Though shored by spear and crozier,
All know the arrant cheat,
And shun the square of pavement
Uncertain at his feet!
Yea, spare the wretch, each brooding
And secret-leaguers' chief,
And make no pistol-target
Of stars upon the thief.
The knell of God strikes seldom
But in the aptest hour;
And when the life is sweetest,
The worm will feel His power!
THE DESPATCH OF THE DOOM.
_("Pendant que dans l'auberge. ")_
[Bk. IV. xiii. , Jersey, November, 1852. ]
While in the jolly tavern, the bandits gayly drink,
Upon the haunted highway, sharp hoof-beats loudly clink?
Yea; past scant-buried victims, hard-spurring sturdy steed,
A mute and grisly rider is trampling grass and weed,
And by the black-sealed warrant which in his grasp shines clear,
I known it is _the Future_--God's Justicer is here!
THE SEAMAN'S SONG.
_("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.