Poems (Sharpless)/Translation of Lamartine's "Le Lac"
TRANSLATION OF LAMARTINE'S "LE LAC"
Oh! driven ever towards a newer shore,
Upon the tide that hath no ebbing back,
On the deep sea of ages, can we never
Drop one day's anchor on our forward track?
Upon the tide that hath no ebbing back,
On the deep sea of ages, can we never
Drop one day's anchor on our forward track?
Oh, peaceful lake! the year hath run its course
Since first she came to look upon thy tide,
And I am sitting listless by thy border,
Alone, where thou hast seen her by my side.
Thus didst thou murmur on thy winding way,
Thus thy waves broke against these rugged rocks,
And thus the wind would waft thy foamy flakes
To bathe her fairy feet with sudden shocks.
Dost thou remember one fair even our oars
Made silvery music in thy plashing stream,
While the fir-branches swayed in mournful cadence,
Like fairy whispers in a fairy dream?
Like fairy whispers, with no mortal meaning,
They woke the echoes of thy charméd shore;
'Twas then she sang, whose voice thrilled all my heart-strings,
And made the silence sweeter than before.
Since first she came to look upon thy tide,
And I am sitting listless by thy border,
Alone, where thou hast seen her by my side.
Thus didst thou murmur on thy winding way,
Thus thy waves broke against these rugged rocks,
And thus the wind would waft thy foamy flakes
To bathe her fairy feet with sudden shocks.
Dost thou remember one fair even our oars
Made silvery music in thy plashing stream,
While the fir-branches swayed in mournful cadence,
Like fairy whispers in a fairy dream?
Like fairy whispers, with no mortal meaning,
They woke the echoes of thy charméd shore;
'Twas then she sang, whose voice thrilled all my heart-strings,
And made the silence sweeter than before.
O time, suspend thy flight, and ye, oh happy hours,
More slowly glide away!
Oh, let us drink deep draughts of this sweet life of ours,
Our life's bright summer day!
More slowly glide away!
Oh, let us drink deep draughts of this sweet life of ours,
Our life's bright summer day!
The sorrow-stricken cry—Oh! fly; fly on forever!—
Thy feet too slowly creep!
Forget the happy in thy kind endeavor—
To soothe the tears they weep.
Thy feet too slowly creep!
Forget the happy in thy kind endeavor—
To soothe the tears they weep.
Ah! all in vain thy rapid wings are flying;
Thou wilt not, wilt not stay.
I cry,—O night, speed slowly! Lo! 'tis dying;
And rosy dawns the day.
Thou wilt not, wilt not stay.
I cry,—O night, speed slowly! Lo! 'tis dying;
And rosy dawns the day.
O love, come crown us with thy roses, laying
No thorns within our perfect happiness!
Men have no home—life's stream hath no delaying—
It ever runs, and onward must we press.
Oh! jealous time, couldst thou not spare these moments,
When Love had filled our cup with bliss supreme?
Shouldst thou then fly for us as for the stricken
Whose hearts are breaking 'neath their heavy pain?
Are these hours lost? Have they then left no traces?
Gone, gone forever, in the dark abyss?
Time gave them to us; time hath torn them from us,
And can we do no more for them than this?
O lake of silver, O dark and lonely forests,
You whom He spares altho' your youth is flown,
Guard you of this fair night the fond remembrance,
And thou, sweet Nature, make the thought thy own!
In thy repose and in thy stormy passions,
Beautiful lake, and in thy smiling shore,
In the dark firs and in the rugged black rocks,
Still let the memory dwell forever more;
Still let it speak, in gentle zephyrs breathing,
And in the echoes murmuring round thy bed,
Let it beam forth in the clear star that silvers
Thy rippling tide beneath its glory spread;
Let it have voices in the reeds that whisper;
Let it breathe ever where perfumes have roved;
Let every sight and every sound speak gently,
This fond, this sweet remembrance, "They have loved."
No thorns within our perfect happiness!
Men have no home—life's stream hath no delaying—
It ever runs, and onward must we press.
Oh! jealous time, couldst thou not spare these moments,
When Love had filled our cup with bliss supreme?
Shouldst thou then fly for us as for the stricken
Whose hearts are breaking 'neath their heavy pain?
Are these hours lost? Have they then left no traces?
Gone, gone forever, in the dark abyss?
Time gave them to us; time hath torn them from us,
And can we do no more for them than this?
O lake of silver, O dark and lonely forests,
You whom He spares altho' your youth is flown,
Guard you of this fair night the fond remembrance,
And thou, sweet Nature, make the thought thy own!
In thy repose and in thy stormy passions,
Beautiful lake, and in thy smiling shore,
In the dark firs and in the rugged black rocks,
Still let the memory dwell forever more;
Still let it speak, in gentle zephyrs breathing,
And in the echoes murmuring round thy bed,
Let it beam forth in the clear star that silvers
Thy rippling tide beneath its glory spread;
Let it have voices in the reeds that whisper;
Let it breathe ever where perfumes have roved;
Let every sight and every sound speak gently,
This fond, this sweet remembrance, "They have loved."