Quand tout me souriait encore,
\nJadis, quand j\u2019\u00e9tais radieux,
\nAux jours de la jeunesse, aurore
\nDont on prolonge les adieux,<\/p>\n
Du milieu de l\u2019immense f\u00eate
\nDes heureux d\u2019alors qui, joyeux,
\nSceptre en main et couronne en t\u00eate,
\nRiaient, chantaient, m\u00eal\u00e9s aux cieux,<\/p>\n
J\u2019ai vu, tandis que sur la terre
\nTout \u00e9tait faste, hymne et concert,
\nL\u2019exil qui saignait, solitaire
\nEt terrible, dans son d\u00e9sert.<\/p>\n
Je suis all\u00e9 vers l\u2019\u00e2pre gr\u00e8ve
\nO\u00f9 rampait le grand abattu ;
\nJ\u2019ai dit : Je suis celui qui r\u00eave.
\nToi qui souffres, qui donc es-tu ?<\/p>\n
Et, levant sa prunelle pleine
\nDu reflet lointain de Saint-Cloud,
\nIl m\u2019a dit : Je suis Sainte-H\u00e9l\u00e8ne.
\nIl m\u2019a dit : Je suis Holyrood.<\/p>\n
Alors, moi, fils de nos d\u00e9sastres,
\nAttestant, devant ces douleurs,
\nEt la nuit qui s\u00e8me les astres,
\nEt le jour qui s\u00e8me les fleurs,<\/p>\n
J\u2019ai salu\u00e9 dans sa ruine
\nLe sombre ma\u00eetre estropi\u00e9,
\nEt j\u2019ai retir\u00e9 son \u00e9pine,
\nEt bais\u00e9 sa plaie \u00e0 son pi\u00e9.<\/p>\n
Puis dans le vent qui tourbillonne
\nJ\u2019ai continu\u00e9 mon chemin ;
\nCar j\u2019\u00e9tais \u00e0 l\u2019\u00e2ge o\u00f9 rayonne
\nLe myst\u00e9rieux lendemain.<\/p>\n
J\u2019ai v\u00e9cu ; j\u2019ai pench\u00e9 ma t\u00eate
\nSur les souffrants, sur les petits.
\nL\u2019azur fit place \u00e0 la temp\u00eate ;
\nJ\u2019avais r\u00eav\u00e9, je combattis.<\/p>\n
Ainsi que le fr\u00e8re d\u2019\u00c9lectre,
\nComme Jacob, \u2014 Dieu, tu le veux, \u2014
\nJ\u2019ai saisi corps \u00e0 corps le spectre,
\nEt l\u2019ange m\u2019a pris aux cheveux.<\/p>\n
Je combattis pour la pens\u00e9e,
\nPour le devoir, pour Dieu ni\u00e9,
\nPour la grande France \u00e9clips\u00e9e,
\nPour le soleil calomni\u00e9.<\/p>\n
Je combattis l\u2019ombre et l\u2019envie,
\nSans peur, sans tache \u00e0 mon \u00e9cu ;
\nPuis il se trouva, c\u2019est la vie,
\nQu\u2019ayant lutt\u00e9, je fus vaincu.<\/p>\n
Je fus un de ceux que la foule
\nDonne \u00e0 d\u00e9vorer \u00e0 l\u2019exil.
\nSur tout vaincu le d\u00e9dain roule ;
\nBrutus est fou, Caton est vil.<\/p>\n
La Victoire \u00e9clatant de rire
\nMontre Aristide \u00e0 ses amants ;
\nQue de martyrs l\u2019exil d\u00e9chire !
\nSa cage est pleine d\u2019ossements !<\/p>\n
Autour de moi des voix fun\u00e8bres
\nCriaient : Cayenne ! Lambessa !
\nL\u2019exil songeait dans les t\u00e9n\u00e8bres ;
\nQuand il me vit, il se dressa.<\/p>\n
Il vint \u00e0 moi, ce noir ministre
\nDu sombre destin incl\u00e9ment.
\nPendant qu\u2019il s\u2019avan\u00e7ait sinistre,
\nJe le regardai fixement.<\/p>\n
Il venait ; sur la terre sombre
\nSon pas sonnait comme un marteau.
\nMaintenant il me tient dans l\u2019ombre
\nEt son ongle est sur mon manteau.<\/p>\n
Mais, au lieu d\u2019angoisse et de peine,
\nJ\u2019ai le calme et la joie au c\u0153ur.
\nLe lion s\u2019est mis, dans l\u2019ar\u00e8ne,
\n\u00c0 l\u00e9cher le gladiateur.<\/p>\n
Jersey, 18 f\u00e9vrier 1854.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"parent":0,"template":"","meta":{"inline_featured_image":false,"site-sidebar-layout":"default","site-content-layout":"","ast-site-content-layout":"default","site-content-style":"default","site-sidebar-style":"default","ast-global-header-display":"","ast-banner-title-visibility":"","ast-main-header-display":"","ast-hfb-above-header-display":"","ast-hfb-below-header-display":"","ast-hfb-mobile-header-display":"","site-post-title":"","ast-breadcrumbs-content":"","ast-featured-img":"","footer-sml-layout":"","ast-disable-related-posts":"","theme-transparent-header-meta":"default","adv-header-id-meta":"","stick-header-meta":"default","header-above-stick-meta":"","header-main-stick-meta":"","header-below-stick-meta":"","astra-migrate-meta-layouts":"set","ast-page-background-enabled":"default","ast-page-background-meta":{"desktop":{"background-color":"var(--ast-global-color-4)","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""},"tablet":{"background-color":"","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""},"mobile":{"background-color":"","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""}},"ast-content-background-meta":{"desktop":{"background-color":"var(--ast-global-color-5)","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""},"tablet":{"background-color":"var(--ast-global-color-5)","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""},"mobile":{"background-color":"var(--ast-global-color-5)","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""}}},"annee":[459],"poems-book":[452],"poemes-theme":[],"poete":[206],"class_list":["post-9873","poemes","type-poemes","status-publish","hentry","annee-459","poems-book-les-quatre-vents-de-lesprit","poete-victor-hugo"],"yoast_head":"\n