<p>Ô toi, le plus savant et le plus beau des Anges,
Dieu trahi par le sort et privé de louanges,</p><p>Ô Satan, prends pitié de ma longue misère!</p><p>Ô Prince de l'exil, à qui l'on a fait tort
Et qui, vaincu, toujours te redresses plus fort,</p><p>Ô Satan, prends pitié de ma longue misère!</p><p>Toi qui sais tout, grand roi des choses souterraines,
Guérisseur familier des angoisses humaines,</p><p>Ô Satan, prends pitié de ma longue misère!</p><p>Toi qui, même aux lépreux, aux parias maudits,
Enseignes par l'amour le goût du Paradis,</p><p>Ô Satan, prends pitié de ma longue misère!
"Les Litanies de Satan" [Litanies of Satan] http://fr.wikisource.org/wiki/Les_Litanies_de_Satan
Les fleurs du mal (Flowers of Evil) (1857)
<p>Ô toi, le plus savant et le plus beau des Anges, Dieu trahi par le sort et privé de louanges,</p><p>Ô Satan, prends pitié de ma longue misère!</p><p>Ô Prince de l'exil, à qui l'on a fait tort Et qui, vaincu, toujours te redresses plus fort,</p><p>Ô Satan, prends pitié de ma longue misère!</p><p>Toi qui sais tout, grand roi des choses souterraines, Guérisseur familier des angoisses humaines,</p><p>Ô Satan, prends pitié de ma longue misère!</p><p>Toi qui, même aux lépreux, aux parias maudits, Enseignes par l'amour le goût du Paradis,</p><p>Ô Satan, prends pitié de ma longue misère!
Les fleurs du mal (Flowers of Evil) (1857)
“O, brother man! fold to thy heart thy brother;
where pity dwells, the peace of God is there.”
Worship, reported in Bartlett's Familiar Quotations, 10th ed. (1919)
The Departure, st. 3
The Day-Dream (1842)
"Be Strong".
Legends and Lyrics: A Book of Verses (1858)
<p>Ah! minha Dinamene! Assim deixaste
Quem não deixara nunca de querer-te!
Ah! Ninfa minha, já não posso ver-te,
Tão asinha esta vida desprezaste!</p><p>Como já pera sempre te apartaste
De quem tão longe estava de perder-te?
Puderam estas ondas defender-te
Que não visses quem tanto magoaste?</p><p>Nem falar-te somente a dura Morte
Me deixou, que tão cedo o negro manto
Em teus olhos deitado consentiste!</p><p>Oh mar! oh céu! oh minha escura sorte!
Que pena sentirei que valha tanto,
Que inda tenha por pouco viver triste?</p>
Lyric poetry, Não pode tirar-me as esperanças, Ah! minha Dinamene! Assim deixaste
Source: The Building of the Ship (1849), Lines 378-382.
The Ragged Wood http://poetry.poetryx.com/poems/1673/
In The Seven Woods (1904)
Context: p>O hurry where by water among the trees
The delicate-stepping stag and his lady sigh,
When they have but looked upon their images--
Would none had ever loved but you and I!Or have you heard that sliding silver-shoed
Pale silver-proud queen-woman of the sky,
When the sun looked out of his golden hood?--
O that none ever loved but you and I!O hurry to the ragged wood, for there
I will drive all those lovers out and cry—
O my share of the world, O yellow hair!
No one has ever loved but you and I.</p
“O Lord, my God, I recognise Thy voice!”
Source: The Revolt of the Angels (1914), Ch. XXXV
Context: Satan, piercing space with his keen glance, contemplated the little globe of earth and water where of old he had planted the vine and formed the first tragic chorus. And he fixed his gaze on that Rome where the fallen God had founded his empire on fraud and lie. Nevertheless, at that moment a saint ruled over the Church. Satan saw him praying and weeping. And he said to him:
"To thee I entrust my Spouse. Watch over her faithfully. In thee I confirm the right and power to decide matters of doctrine, to regulate the use of the sacraments, to make laws and to uphold purity of morals. And the faithful shall be under obligation to conform thereto. My Church is eternal, and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it. Thou art infallible. Nothing is changed."
And the successor of the apostles felt flooded with rapture. He prostrated himself, and with his forehead touching the floor, replied:
"O Lord, my God, I recognise Thy voice! Thy breath has been wafted like balm to my heart. Blessed be Thy name. Thy will be done on Earth, as it is in Heaven. Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil."
Source: Simone Weil : An Anthology (1986), The Self (1947), p. 83
