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Vous, dont les yeux divins sur la terre des hommes Ont verse plus de pleurs Que vos pieds n'ont depuis, dans le ciel ou nous sommes, Fait eclore de fleurs. Vase d'election, etoile matinale, Miroir de purete, Vous qui priez pour nous, d'une voix virginale, La supreme bonte;
"Quand vos yeux, en naissant, s'ouvraient a la lumiere, Chacun vous souriait, mon fils, et vous pleuriez. Vivez si bien, qu'un jour, a votre derniere heure, Chacun verse des pleurs, et qu'on vous voie sourire." "You have fulfilled your father's wish," said the king. "You have so lived, that you can smile when all others are weeping for you, and no man who has loved can forget you.
See Pope, Epitaphs, 9. David Monypenny had been on the Bench from 1813; he retired in 1830, and died at the age of eighty-one in 1850. Parody on Moore's Minstrel Boy. "Le Pas de la Fontaine des Pleurs." Chroniques Nationales. This hint was taken up in Count Robert of Paris.
I found, the other day, that some of my literary friends had never heard of him, though I suppose few educated Frenchmen do not know the lines which he wrote, a week before his death, upon a mean bed in the great hospital of Paris. "Au banquet de la vie, infortune convive, J'apparus un jour, et je meurs; Je meurs, et sur ma tombe, ou lentement j'arrive, Nul ne viendra verser des pleurs."
Ah! que ce rude et dur guerrier Nous a coute de sang et de pleurs et d'outrage Pour quelques rameaux de laurier! "Eh bien! dans tous ces jours d'abaissement, de peine, Pour tous ces outrages sans nom, Je n'ai jamais charge qu'un etre de ma haine,... Sois maudit, O Napoleon!"
They fought with tired limbs, and yet no army ever showed such strength, for their hearts were filled with faith and hope." At daybreak on Sunday, the 6th, Foch pitched his headquarters in a modern château near the little village of Pleurs, which you probably will not find on any map except a military one, but it is some six miles southeast of Sézanne.
Ah! que ce rude et dur guerrier Nous a coute de sang et de pleurs et d'outrage Pour quelques rameaux de laurier! "Eh bien! dans tous ces jours d'abaissement, de peine, Pour tous ces outrages sans nom, Je n'ai jamais charge qu'un etre de ma haine,... Sois maudit, O Napoleon!"
It came from Thérèse's little Aberdeen terrier, who stood in the boudoir door, looking up with eyes of patient inquiry and uttering continuous plaints. "Il pleurs tout le temps," murmured Aline. "Ah, Tony, Tony, qu'est-ce que tu as? Ah, le pauvre!" "Come, Tony, old boy," called Roger, stooping to stroke the dog for a moment. "What's the matter?
Another much-employed metre was this, of the hundred and thirty-third psalm: "Asais aux bors do ce superbe fleuve Que de Babel les campagnes abreuve, Nos tristes coeurs ne pensoient qu' a Sion. Chacun, helas, dans cette affliction Les yeux en pleurs la morte peinte au visage Pendit sa harpe aux saules du rivage." A third and favorite metre was this:
I found, the other day, that some of my literary friends had never heard of him, though I suppose few educated Frenchmen do not know the lines which he wrote, a week before his death, upon a mean bed in the great hospital of Paris. "Au banquet de la vie, infortune convive, J'apparus un jour, et je meurs; Je meurs, et sur ma tombe, ou lentement j'arrive, Nul ne viendra verser des pleurs."
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