...
-
-
Mon frère le lion, tu rugis ta prière ;
Tu la hurles, molosse, en abois infinis ;
Tu la beugles, taureau; cheval, tu la hennis ;
Tu la bêles, agneau. Chacun a sa manière.Au petit point du jour, saluant la lumière,
Comme moi, mieux que moi, petits oiseaux bénis,
Errants par la feuillée ou couchés dans vos nids,
Vous chantez du Seigneur la bonté... -
Ere yet in Vergil I could scan or spell,
Or through the enchanted portal of that lay
Dear to old Rome had found my faltering way,
How oft with heaving breast I heard thee tell
Of horrors that the Trojan fleet befell:
How for a time they were the tempest’s prey,
And how at last into a little bay
Their boats came gliding on the peaceful...