Poems by Victor Hugo - HTML preview

ESMERALDA IN PRISON.

("Phoebus, n'est-il sur la terre?")
     {OPERA OF "ESMERALDA," ACT IV., 1836.}

Phoebus, is there not this side the grave,
                 Power to save
     Those who're loving? Magic balm
     That will restore to me my former calm?
     Is there nothing tearful eye
     Can e'er dry, or hush the sigh?
     I pray Heaven day and night,
     As I lay me down in fright,
     To retake my life, or give
     All again for which I'd live!
     Phoebus, hasten from the shining sphere
                 To me here!
     Hither hasten, bring me Death; then Love
     May let our spirits rise, ever-linked, above!