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Enfin, lasse d'aller sans finir sa carrière,

D'aller sans user son chemin, De pétrir 1'univers, et comme une poussière,

De soulever le genre humain, Les jarrets épuisés, haletante et sans forces,

Prés de flechir a chaque pas, Elle demanda grace a son cavalier corse,

Mais, bourreau, tu n'écoutas pas! Tu la pressas plus foit de ta cuisse nerveuse;

Pour étouffer ses cris ardents, Tu retournas le mors dans sa bouche baveuse,

De fureur tu brisas ses dents; Elle se releva, mais, un jour de bataille,

Ne pouvant plus mordre ses freins, Mourante, elle tomba sur un lit de mitraille,

Et du coup te cassa les reins.

Barbier.

71. O Captain! My Captain!

1. O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done,

The ship has weather'd every rack, the prize we sought is won, The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting, While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring;

But o heart! heart! heart!

O the bleeding drops of red,

Where on the deck my Captain lies,

Fallen cóld and dead.

2. O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells; Rise up, for you the flag is flung, for you the bugle trills,

For you bouquets and ribbon'd wreaths, for you the shores a-crowding, For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;

Here Captain! dear feather!

This arm beneath your head!

It is some dream that on the deck,

You 've fallen cold and dead.

3. My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still, My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will,

The ship is anchor'd safe and sound, its voyage closed and done, From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won;

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