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A América |
Clemente Althaus |
1855 |
Spanish |
En ti se exceden las divinas manos,
mundo feliz que adivinó Colon:
tus mares dos inmensos océanos,
y tus lagos y ríos mares son.
Altísimas se yerguen tus montañas,
que el cielo tocan con su blanca sien,
y es oro lo que esconden sus entrañas
que arena de... |
|
A André Chénier |
Victor Hugo |
1844 |
French |
Oui, mon vers croit pouvoir, sans se mésallier,
Prendre à la prose un peu de son air familier.
André, c'est vrai, je ris quelquefois sur la lyre.
Voici pourquoi. Tout jeune encor, tâchant de lire
Dans le livre effrayant des forêts et des eaux,
J'habitais un parc... |
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À Arsène Houssaye |
Théodore de Banville |
1843 |
French |
Grâce aux Dalilas,
Nos rimeurs sont las
De gloire,
Et, comme un hochet,
Ont jeté l’archet
D’ivoire !
Au rhythme ailé d’or
Il fallait encor
Un maître
Fou de... |
|
A Asunción |
Manuel Acuña |
1869 |
Spanish |
Mire usted, Asunción: aunque algún ángel
metiéndose envidioso,
conciba allá en el cielo el mal capricho
de venir por la noche a hacerle el oso
y en un acto glorioso
llevársela de aquí, como le ha dicho
no sé qué nigromante misterioso,
no vaya usted, por... |
|
À Auguste Brachet |
Sully Prudhomme |
1872 |
French |
Ami, la passion du Verbe et de ses lois
Nous obsède tous deux. Toi, d’une oreille austère,
Tu scrutes savamment le son dépositaire
Du génie et du cœur des hommes d’autrefois ;
Tu sais sur quel passage appuie ou court la voix,
Sous quelle fixe règle un mot... |
|
À Auguste Brizeux |
Théodore de Banville |
1843 |
French |
Poète, il est fini l'âpre temps des épreuves.
Quitte nos solitudes veuves,
Et dors, libre et pensif, bercé par tes grands fleuves !
Au milieu des brumes d'Arvor
Repose ! Ta chanson va retentir encor
Sur la lande où sont les fleurs d'or.
Heureux qui resta pur... |
|
À Auguste Supersac |
Théodore de Banville |
1889 |
French |
Auguste, mon très bon, qui toujours as fléchi
Pour les yeux en amande,
Sais-tu qu’hier matin j’ai beaucoup réfléchi
Et que je me demande
Pourquoi décidément ce monde où nous rions
A tant de choses sombres,
Et pourquoi Dieu... |
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A Ballad (In the manner of Rudyard Kipling) |
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English |
As I was walkin' the jungle round, a-klllin' of tigers an' time,
I seed a kind of an author man, a writin' a rousin' rhyme;
'E was writin' a mile a minute an' more, an' I sez to 'im: "Oo are you?"
Sez 'e, "I'm a poet—'er majesty's poet—... |
|
A Ballad of Sir John Franklin |
George Henry Boker |
|
English |
O, whither sail you, Sir John Franklin?
Cried a whaler in Baffin’s Bay.
To know if between the land and the pole
I may find a broad sea-way.
I charge you back, Sir John Franklin,
As you would live and thrive;
For between the land and the... |
|
A Ballad of the Boston Tea-Party |
|
|
English |
No! never such a draught was poured
Since Hebe served with nectar
The bright Olympians and their Lord,
Her over-kind protector,—
Since Father Noah squeezed the grape
And took to such behaving
As... |
|
A Ballad of the French Fleet |
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow |
1827 |
English |
A fleet with flags arrayed
Sailed from the port of Brest,
And the Admiral’s ship displayed
The signal: “Steer southwest.”
For this Admiral D’Anville
Had sworn by cross and crown
To ravage with fire and steel
Our helpless Boston Town... |
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A Ballad of the Ranks |
|
|
English |
"Who carries the gun?"
A lad from London town.
We'll let him go, for well we know
The stuff that never backs down!
He has learned to joke at the powder smoke,
For he is the fog-smoke's son,
And his... |
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A Ballad of Trees and the Master |
Sidney Lanier |
1862 |
English |
Into the woods my Master went,
Clean forspent, forspent.
Into the woods my Master came,
Forspent with love and shame.
But the olives they were not blind to Him;
The little gray leaves were kind to Him
The thorn-tree had a mind to Him
When... |
|
A Ballad of Trees and the Master |
Sidney Lanier |
1862 |
English |
Into the woods my Master went,
Clean forspent, forspent.
Into the woods my Master came,
Forspent with love and shame.
But the olives they were not blind to Him;
The little gray leaves were kind to Him;
The thorn-tree had a mind to Him
When... |
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A Ballad of Trees and the Master |
|
|
English |
Into the woods my Master went,
Clean forspent, forspent.
Into the woods my Master came,
Forspent with love and shame.
But the olives they were not blind to Him,
... |
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A Ballade of Islands |
Lucy Robinson |
|
English |
I would I had been island-born.
I dearly love things insular:
The coral bed, the quaint bazaar,
The palm and breadfruit never shorn,
The smoking cone that cannot char
The azure of a tropic morn,
The dancing girl in soft cymar,—
All these... |
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A Bard's Epitaph |
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English |
A Bard's Epitaph
1786
Is there a whim-inspired fool,
Owre fast for thought, owre hot for rule,
Owre blate to seek, owre proud to snool,
Let him draw near;
And owre this grassy heap sing... |
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A Bard’s Epitaph |
Robert Burns |
1779 |
English |
Is there a whim-inspirèd fool,
Owre fast for thought, owre hot for rule,
Owre blate 1 to seek, owre proud to snool; 2
Let him draw near,
And owre this grassy heap sing dool,
And drap a tear.
Is there a bard of rustic song,... |
|
À Barthélemy |
Alexandre Latil |
1834 |
French |
Le génie est un aigle et ton vol nous l’atteste !
(Lamartine)
À voir Barthélemy ainsi courbé sur son œuvre, J’ai souvent
éprouvé pour lui des vertiges et des saisissements. Il me
faisait l’effet d... |
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A Beam of Light |
John Jerome Rooney |
|
English |
A Beam of light, from the infinite depths of the midnight sky,
Painted with infinite love a star in a convict’s eye;
When, lo! the ghosts of his sins were afraid and fled with a curse,
And the soul of the man walked free in the fields of the universe!
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