CIRCE

Text:

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En anglais :

On a deserted rock, the fear of nature,
Whose arid summit seems to touch the heavens,
Circe, pale, forbidden, and death in the eyes,
Mourned his fatal adventure.
There, his eyes wandering on the waves,
Fugitive Ulysses seemed to follow the trail.
She thinks she still sees her fickle hero;
And, this illusion relieving his disgrace,
 She recalls it in these words,
Stop interrupting his tears and his sobs a hundred times:

Cruel author of the troubles of my soul,
May pity delay your steps a little;
Turn your eyes for a moment on these climates;
And, if not to share my passion,
Come back at least to hasten my death.

This sad heart became your victim,
Still cherish the love that has surprised him;
Fatal love! your hate is its price;
So much tenderness, oh gods! is it a crime,
To deserve such cruel contempt?

Cruel author of the troubles of my soul,
May pity delay your steps a little;
Turn your eyes for a moment on these climates;
And, if not to share my passion,
Come back at least to hasten my death.

Thus, in regret, his grief is declared;
But soon, from his art using relief,
To recall the object of his sad loves,
She invokes loudly all the gods of the Tenare,
The Feasts, Nemesis, Cerberus, Phlegeton,
And the inflexible Hecate, and the horrible Alecton.
On a bloody altar the ugly pyre ignites,
The devouring lightning immediately consumes it;
A thousand black vapors obscure the day;
The stars of the night interrupt their race,
The astonished rivers go back to their source,
And Pluto even trembles in his dark place.

His formidable voice
Trouble the underworld;
A great sound
Growls in the air.
A frightful veil
Covers the universe;
The trembling earth
Shudder of terror.
The turbulent wave
Mugit of fury.
The bloody moon
Horror recoil.

In the bosom of death its black enchantments
Will disturb the rest of the shadows;
The frightened manes leave their monuments;
The air sounds far away from their long screams,
And the winds, escaped from their dark caves,
Mix with their clamor horrible hisses.
Useless efforts! hapless lover,
A god stronger than you depends on your destiny.
You can shake the earth under your feet,
Raging hell ignite anger,
But your fury will not make
What your attractions could not do.

It is not by effort that we love,
Love is jealous of his rights;
It depends only on itself.
It is only obtained by choice;
Everything recognizes his supreme law,
He alone knows no laws.

In the fields that winter desolates,
Flora comes to restore her court;
The Alcyon flees before Aole;
Aeolus flees him;
But as soon as Love flies away,
He does not know any more back.