ON THE DEATH

OF THEOPHILE GAUTIER LJeath, what hast thou to do with me? So saith Love, with éyes set against the face' of Death

What have Idone, o thou strong Death, tb the-e,i That mine own lips should wither from thy breathî* Though thou be blind as fire or as the sea»

Why should thy waves and storms make

Is it for hate thou hast to find me fair3 Or for desire to kiss, if it might be, My very mouth of song, and kitt me there?

So with keen raitts vexing hj.s çrownless hair,

With bright feet bruised fmnt no delightful way, Through darkness and the disenchanted air,i Lost Loye went weeping half a winter's day.

And the armed wind that smote him seemed to say,

How shall the dew live when the dawn is fled, Or wherefore should the Mayflower outlast May ? Then Death took Love by the right hand and said, Smiling Come now and look upon thy dead.

But Love cast down the glories of his eyes And bowed down like a flower his flowerless head. And Death Spàke, saying What ails thee in such wise, Being god, to shut thy sight up from the skies?

If thou canst see not, hast thou ears to hear? Or is thy soul too as a leaf thât dies ?

Even as he -spake with fleshless lips of fear, But soft as sleep sings in a tired man's ear,

Behold, the winter was not, and its might Fell, and,fruits broke forth of the barrêa year. And upon eatth was largess of great light, And moving music winged for world-wide flight,

And shapes and sounds of gods behéld and heard, And day's foot set upon the neck ofnight.

And with such song the hollowways were stirred As of a god's heart hidden in a bird,

Or as the whole soûl pf the sun in spring Should find full utterance in one flowe»-soft word, And ail the season should break forth and sing From one flower's: lips, in one rose triumphing;

Such breath and light of song as> of a flame Made ears and spirits of them that heard it ring. And Love beholding knew not for the same The shape that led him, nor in face nor name,

For he was bright and great of thews and fair, And in Love's eyes he was not Death but Famé. Not that grey ghost whose life is empty and bare And his limbs moulded out of mortal air,

A cloud of change tha.t shifts into a shower And dies and leaves no light for time to wéar But a god clothed with his own joy and power. A god reriseri out of his mortal hour

Immortal, king and lord of time and space, With eyes that look on them as from a tower.

And where he stood the pale sepulchrali place Bloomed, as new life might in a bloodiess face,

And were men sorrowing came to seeks a tomb With funeral flowers and tears for grief and grace, They saw with light as of à world in bloom The portal of the House of Famé illume-

The ways of life wherein we toiling tread, And watched the darkness as a brand consume.

And through the gates wherë rule the deathless dead The sound of a- new singer's soul was shed'

That sang among his kinsfolk, and a beam ̃̃ Shot from thé star on a new ruler'shead; rî « > ̃:>̃&̃? A new star lighting the Lethean stream, A new song mixed into the song suprême

Made of ail souls of singers and their might, That makes of life and time and death a dream. Thy star, thy song, o soul that in our sight Wast as a sun that made for man's delight

Flowers and ail fruits in season, being so near The sun-god's face, our god that gives us light. To him of all gods that we love or fear Thou among ail men by thy name wast dear,

Dear to the god that gives us spirit of song To bind and burn ail hearts of men that hear. The god that makes men's words too sweet and strong For life or time or death to do them wrong,

Who sealed with his thy spirit for a sign And filled it with his breath thy whole life--long. Who made thy moist lips fiery with new wine Pressed from the grapes of song the sovereign vine,

And with ail love of ail things loveliest Gave thy soul power to make them more divine. That thou might'st breathe upon the breathless rest Ofmarble, till the brows and lips and breast

Felt fall from off them as a cancclled curse That speechless sleep wherewith they lived opprest. Who gave thee strength and heat of spirit. to pierce All clouds of form and colour that disperse

And leaye the spirit of beauty to remould In types of clean chryselephantine verse, Who gave thee words more golden than fine gold To carve in shapes more glorious than of old

And build thy ,songs up in tne sight of time As statues set in godhead manifold In sight and scoFn of. temporal change and clime That meet the sun rerisen with refluent rhyme'

As god to god might answer face to face From lips whereon the morning strikes sublime. Dear to the god, our god who gave thee place Among the chosen of days, the royal race,

The lords of light, whose eyes of old and ears Saw even on earth and heard him for a space.

There are the souls of those once mortal years That wrought with fire of joy and light of tears,

In words divine as deeds that grew thereof, Such music as he swoons with love who hears.

Thsre are the lives that lighten from ï'boye Our under lives, the spheral soûls that move

Through the ancient heaven of song-illumined air Whence we that hear them singing die with love. There ail the crowned Hellenic heads, and there The old gods who made men godlike as they were,

The lyric lips wherefrom ail songs take fire, Live eyes, and light of Apollonian hair.

There round the sovereign passion of that lyre Which the stars hear and tremble with desire,

The ninefold light Pierian is made one That here we see divided, and aspire, Seeing, after this or that crown to be won; But where they heàr the singing of the sun

All form, ail sound, ail colour and ail thought Are as one body and soul in ùnisôn.

There the song sung shines as a picture wrought, The painted mouths sing that on earth say nought,

The cairven limbs have sense of blood and growth And large -eyed life that seeks nor lacks riôt aught. There ail the music of thy living mouth Lives, and ail loves wrought of thine hand in youth

And bound-about the breasts and brows with gold And coloured pale or dusk from north or south. Fair living things made to thy will of old, Born of thy lips, no births of mortal mould,

That in the world of song about thee wait Where thought and truth are one and manifold. i6a LE TOMBEAU Within the graven lintels of the gate That here divides our vision and our,tate,

The dreams we walk in and the truths of sleep, Ail sense a.nd spirit have life inseparate.

There what one thinks, is his to grasp and keep There are no dreams, but very joys to; reap,

No foiled desires that die before delight, No fears to see açross our joys and weep.. t\ There hast thou ail thy will of thought and sight, ̃̃ Ail hope for harvest and ail heaveri for flight; •'

The sunrise of whose golden-mouthed glad head To paler songless ghosts was heat and light. i Here where the sunset of our year is red Men think of thee as of the summer dead,

Gone forth before the snows, before thy dayt With unshod feet, with brows unchapleted. ;i.. Couldst thou not wait till age had wound, they^ay,? Round thosewreathçd brows his soft white blossoms? Nay,

Why shouldst thou vex thy soul with this harsh air, Thy bright-winged soul, once free to take its way> Nor for men's reverence hadst thou. need to wear The holy flower of grey, time-halloweà hair;

Nor were it fit that aught of thee grew old r Fair lover ail thy days of ail things fair. And hear we not thy words of molten gold Singing? or is their light %md heat acold

Whereat men warmed their spirits? Nay, for ail These yet are with us, ours to hear and hold. The lovely laughter, the clear tears, the call Of love to love on ways where shadows fall

Through doors of dim division and disguise;- And music made of doubts unmusical The love that caught strange light from death's own eyes, And filled death's lips with fiery words and sighs,

And half asleep let feed from veins of his Her close red warm snake's mouth, Egyptian-wise; And that great night »f love more strange than this, When she that made the whole worid's bale and bliss

Made king of the whole world's desire a slave, And killed him in mid kingdom with a kiss; Veiled loves that shifted shapes and shafts, and gave, Laughing, strange gifts to hands that durst not crave,

Flowers double -blossomed, fruits of scent and hue Sweet as the bride-bed, stranger than the grave; All joys and wonders of old lives and new That ever in love's shine or shadow grew,

And ail the grief whereof he dreams and grieves, And ail sweet roots fed on his light and dew; j.64 LE TOMBEAU All these through thee our spirit of sense perceives, As threads in the unseen woofthy music weaves,.j

Birds càught and snared that fill our ears with thee, Bay-blossoms in thy, wreath ofbrow-bound leaves. Mixed with the masque of death's old cômedyjs v; ̃>̃{'; Though thoir too pass, hâve hère our flowers, that weO

For au the flowers thon gav'st upon thee shed, And pass not crownless to Persephone. iv'i-v^.n!'i h~-- Blue lotus-blooms and white and rosy-red We wind with poppies for thy silenthead,

And on this margin of Leave thy sweet light to rise upon the dead.

DE THÉOPHILE GAUTIER. i6j

OTDF .-v.r ,.Quelle fleur, ô mort, quel joyau, quel chant, Quel vent, quel rayon de soleil couchant, Sur ton front penché, sur ta main avide, Sur l'âpre pâleur de ta lèvre aride,

Vibre encore et luit?

Ton sein est sans lait,' ton oreille est vide,

Ton oeil fait de nuit.

Ta bouche est sans,souflle et ton front sans ride; Mais l'éclair voilé d'une flamme humide, Flamme éclose au coeur d'un ciel pluvieux, Rallume ta lèvre et remplit tes yeux

De lueurs d'opale Ta bouche est vermeille et ton front joyeux,

0 toi qui fus pâle.

Comme aux jours divins la mère des dieux, Reine au sein fécond) au corps radieux, Tu surgis au bord de la tombe amère; Y66 LE TOMBEAU Tu nous apparais, ô Mort, vierge et mère,

Effroi des humains, j J~-- Le divin laurier sur^i tête altière

Et la lyre aux mains.

Nous reconnaissons, courbes sur la terre,.

Que c'est la splendeur de ta face austère Qui dore la nuit de nos longs malheurs; Que la vie ailée aux mille couleurs,

Dont tu n'es que l'âme, Refait par tes maints les deux et les fleurs,

La rbse et là femme/ '•"?' Lune constante! astre ami des douleurs Qui luis i. travers la brume des pleurs!

Quelle flamme au fond de ta clarté molle Éclate et rougit, nouvelle auréole,

Ton doux front voilé ?

Quelle étoile, ouvrant ses ailes, s'envole

Du ciel étoile?

Pleurant ce rayon de jbur qu'on lui vole, L'home exècre en vain la mort triste et fplîe Mais r-*i,u« qui fut à nos yeux si beau) Là-haut, loin d'ici, dans un ciel nouveau

.Plein d'autresjétoilesyib, Se lève, nuit:du tombeau r

Entr'ouvre ses voiles^ j KK[ i!K ?| «-y; rï' L'âme est dans le corps comme un jeune oiseau Dont l'aile s'agite au bord du berceau La mort, déliant cette aile inquiète, Quand nous écoutons la bouche muette

Qui nous dit adieu, Fait de l'homme innme et sombre un poëte,

Du poëte un dieu.

SWIWi'BV'RJNlE. 168 LE TOMBEAU il Pour mettre une couronne au front d'une chanson, Il semblait qu'en passant son pied semât des roses, Et que sa main cueillît comme des fleurs écloses Les étoiles au fond du ciel en floraison.

Sa parole de marbre et d'or avait le son Des clairons de l'été chassant les jours moroses; Comme en Thrace Apollon banni des grands cieux roses, Il regardait du coeur l'Olympe, sa maison.

Le soleil fut pour lui le soleil du vieux monde, Et son œil recherchait dans les flots embrasés Le sillon immortel d'où s'élança sur l'onde Vénus, que la rrièr molle enivrait de baisers; Enfin, Dieu ressaisi de sa splendeur première, Il trône, et son sépulcre est bâti de lumière.

SWItKl'BUI&CE.

/SVÇ 0<BITUdM 2'HEOPHILI

TOETJE CLqA<RJSSI&1I \^J lux Pieridum et laurigeri delicias dei, Vox leni Zephyro lenior, ut veris amans novi Tollit floridulis implicitum primitiis caput, Ten' ergo abripuit non rediturum, ut redeunt novo Flores verenovi, te quoque mors irrevocabilem? Cur vatem neque te Musa parens, te neque Gratis, Nec servare sibi te potuit fidum animi Venus? Quae nunc ipsa magis vel puero te Cinyreïo, Te desiderium et fl.ebilibus lumen amoribus Amissum queritur; sanguineis fusa comam g|lenis. Tantis tu lacrymis digne, cornes dulcis Apollini, Carum ncnsçn eris dis superis atque sodalibus Nobis, quis eadem qux tibi vivo patuit via Non xquis patet, at te sequimur passibus haud tuis, At mœsto cinerem carminé non illacrymabilem Tristesque exuvias floribus ac fletibus integris Unà contegimus, nec citharâ nec sine tibia, Votoque unanimae vocis Ave dicimus et Vale.

SWIWBUV&ÇE 17a LE TOMBEAU o poëte amoureux des formes lumineuses, O Maître, si j'avais en ce siècle bourgeois A bâtir pour ta cendre un tombeau de mon choix, Tu ne dormirais pas dans nos villes haineuses. Ta tombe fleurirait aux pentes gazonneuses Des forêts de l'Ardenne, où Shakspeare autrefois, Sous la voûte sonore et verte des grands, bois, Faisait rire et chanter de blanches promeriëuses. Rosalinde y viendrait; Jacque, assis au revers Du monument semé d'anémones pâlies, Exhalerait sa verve et ses mélancolies; Et doucement, l'air bleu, le soleil, les beaux vers, Traversant l'épaisseur de la ramure altière, Iraient vers toi, qui fus chant, couleur et lumière.

cd THÉOPHILE GC4UTIEVI Toi qu'on disait l'artiste ardent mais l'homme tiède, Le rimeur égoïste et sourd à tous nos cris, Le jour où l'Allemagne assiégea ce Paris Haï des nations parce qu'il les précède, Quand, sachant que Paris difficilement cède Et que, criblé, haché, broyé sous les débris, Les obu: n'obtiendraient de lui que son mépris, L'Allemagne appela. la famine à son aide, Quand plusieurs étaient pris du goût de voyager, Toi qui dans ce moment étais à l'étranger, Chez des amis, avec une fillè chérie, Dans un Pouvant vivre tranquille et manger à ta feiœ, >; •̃̃• -> Tu choisis de venir mourir pour la Patrie, ru^ i

aiVGVS7E VcACQUEUJE

THÉOTHILE GoAUTIE%, Comme un roi d'Orient, grave, dès le matin De son avènement songe à la sépulture, Et fait, par des milliers de sujets qu'il torture, Dresser dans l'air torride un monument hautain, Le poëte, artisan d'un plus royal destin, Dès l'aube s'assurant contre la nuit future, Longtemps dompta le rhythme; et sa volonté dure Ploya les mots ainsi qu'un grand peuple mutin. Maintenant que ses yeux sont clos à la lumière, Son âme a retrouvé la fête coutumière Des midis aveuglants et du grand jour vermeil Échappée aux caveaux où pleure l'ombre humide, Elle habite à jamais son œuvre, Pyramide Blanche parmi l'azur inondé de soleil.

LÉOD',C 'VaiLai'DE 176 LE TOMBEAU DE' THÉOPHILE GAUTIER.

Qâ THÉOPHILE GoAUTIE%

0'il est, par delà le tombeau, v

Une pelouse diaprée

Où les morts amoureux du Beau

Devisent, sur l'hërbé empourprée

Si l'esprit qui tint le flambeau

De l'inspiration sacrée

Conserve en ces lieux un lambeau

De sa science vénérée

Dès maîtres du rhythme puissant,

Dont le front conquit l'auréole}:

Théophile, c'est ta parole :i-

Qui se fait le mieux écouter ~>< 1,\

Sur l'art ê

Pages.

Gautier.

Nature chez elle.' .4.5

ARÈNE. Pierrot,sur)a Tombe de Théophile Gautier, apporte

son hommage funèbre

Gautier,critique dramatique. 10 "sEODOR La Coumèdi de la Mort. Il J. Théophile THEODORE DE Tombeau.

Ressouvenir. 18

Neue Légende. at ÉMUE A. M. Souvenir du vingt-cinq octobre. ]0 EXILE' Stances. 32

Vingt-cinq octobre 35

Théophile

Métempsycoses.

DE Amicus

Mort. 40

-'Théophile Gautier

Gautier, élégiaque .1; E. A Théophile

Quand il était écolier.