De Vlaamsche Kunstbode. Jaargang 10

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Onze dichters vertaald.

Hucbald.⁽¹⁾

I glide from the light, from the heavenly strand,

To the midst of the land.

Ten ages I've been,

Mid the song and the sheen

Of the rays,

That stream from the brow

Of the Ancient of Days.

My harp, that on earth oft poured forth its full tone,
E'en fuller must sound at Emmanuel's throne;
For the seraphims' hearts with a yet purer thrill

I am longing to fill.

So now for awhile I will leave the bright strand,

For the midst of my land.

'T is springtime.......

Far as eye can pierce,

Gone is each marsh, waste, wood or down,

And earth's bright floor become one mass

Of green, of amber, red or brown.

All blooms where'er I roam, as erst my cloister home.

Oxen labour,

Peasants till,

Cattle

Low by

Mead and rill.

Horses toil and panting start

With the well-filled tilted cart;

Cooing doves, here woo their loves.

Pretty hamlets! Fragrant May!

Feathered songsters trill your lay;

Carol as ye fly, through the blue and quivering sky.

Could Adam when in Eden, of greater pleasures boast?

(1) By julius de Geyter. Set to music by Peter Benoit for the opening of the National Exhibition in Brussels June 1880.

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Nought, nought on earth I'd miss, so on from land to coast!

 

What rolling

 

And rocking,

 

Of fishers'

 

Barks flocking

 

O'er ocean's expanse, meet my wondering gaze!

 

White sail upon sail

 

Flapping free in the gale,

 

Or the still whiter foam in the tremulous haze.

 

 

 

No bark, nor skiff; from every shore

 

Sea-castles breast the tide;

 

As giant banners proudly spread

 

Their free sails far and wide.

 

Those deep-curved sails reflect the gleam

 

As down the rippling Scheldt they steam.

 

With them to Antwerp; where erst all around

 

Huts only stood, what towers now hide the ground!

 

What a forest of masts those waters bear,

 

What a mixture of songs and languages there,

 

What a concourse of people within those walls,

 

What treasures amassed in those lordly halls;

 

While the chiming belfry its music blends,

 

As showers of blessings that heaven sends.

 

 

 

But a monster flies amain,

 

Roaring, howling o'er the plain;

 

See his hulk a mass of glow

 

See his fierce eyes' sanguine flow;

 

Feel, e'en air his passage owns,

 

Trembling where he sighs and groans;

 

With his tail so firm and strong,

 

Curving as he journeys on.

 

E'en broad streams he will bestride,

 

Fling his train across the tide.....

 

Enraged at gnome and dwarf he roars,

 

Through the hill a passage bores;

 

Thunders in the tranquil vale.

 

Heavens! Is Satan loose and laying waste? Is that his fearful wail?

 

 

 

O Mountain-land! for ages

 

Thy wealth was hid from day;

 

As misers hoard their treasures,

 

Though health and life decay.

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But now thy sons with ruthless toil,

 

Disclose and seize that hidden spoil;

 

Foor lands endow with treasures rare,

 

Rich palaces and gardens fair.

 

 

 

Behold!

 

Both metal and granite the monster can hold;

 

And all the mines' treasures

 

Conducive to pleasures.

 

Then he flies.

 

With them too as fleetly and powerfully on

 

As though he were laden with feathers and down.

 

Each city awaits him to heap on his back,

 

New burdens to bear on his measureless track;

 

Men mount him by thousands, a numberless throng,

 

And adorned with a banner he hurries along.

 

 

 

He hastes, and now on every side

 

From east, west, north, I see them glide,

 

 

 

See monsters bold as he, direct their fearless flight

 

Where Brussels from a vale now rises into sight.

 

They shake off all their burdens, return with groan and roar,

 

Then re appear, re-freighted, and leave them as before.

 

 

 

As Hildegarde within her casket lays

 

The gold and gems the Emperor bestowed;

 

So the whole country, every town displays

 

Its wealth by stately mansion, rich abode.

 

 

 

Stay, Hucbald, stay; no farther go;

 

What more by wandering couldst thou know?

 

 

 

O Carlo Magnus! brave and proud;

 

Thy bright, bared sword all rebels cowed;

 

And half the world in homage bowed.

 

And now a child could make thee fear,

 

Though all thy armèd knights stood near,

 

By sporting with the powers where giants dwell,

 

That other giants quell.

 

 

 

Thy massive abode in a by-gone day,

 

I saw with thy pomp, thy rich array;

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And there

 

I saw in thy palace of old,

 

Adorned for the feast with jewels untold,

 

Numberless ladies fair.

 

O couldst thou see the marble hall,

 

Where the slave is richer than then was king;

 

Those countless beauties whose bright eyes' gleam,

 

Surpasses the splendour of fancy's dream,

 

And the gems that surround thy diadem.

 

Great Emperor! Could thy glances fall

 

On the wondrous works of art,

 

That rise and raise our land,

 

New strength, new fame impart,

 

Where towers or cities stand!

 

 

 

O Carlo! All on earth declares,

 

'T is Freedom's garb the wonder wears;

 

That Freedom greatness, glory bears.

 

Let all men shout and bless her name,

 

In heaven will I with them proclaim

 

Her meed of praise before the throne of God,

 

Before the throne of God!

 

 

 

Translated by W.L.M.