Echoes
Les echos.
Sinning goes on up above there, be sure;
Echoes, 'tis known, are all spirits made pure
But when for slight peccadilloes they fall,
Sent to be purged in wood, valley, or wall,
There every cry, every word they repeat,
Long as they're doomed to the penitents' seat
Such is their sentence — in France 'tis severe —
Echoes are treated outrageously here!
Some of them, just from our earthiness freed —
Poor galley-slaves to whom others succeed —
Safe in the sky, their deplorable fate
Thus to their brothers, the angels, relate
" What with saloons, cafes, schools that abound,
Paris for us truly awful we've found;
There it rains words, sit the wind as it may —
Echoes, our doom is a hard one, we say! "
" Yes, " exclaims one, " at the Institute I,
Brothers, was pent in walls hollow and high:
Thence, with their learned discourses and shows,
Sounds without sense in abundance arose.
Dwarfs addle-headed, how many rehearse
Ethics, art, history, science, or verse,
Taking my voice for the trumpet of Fame —
Echoes, our treatment 's a scandalous shame! "
" Mured in the Palais de Justice , " says one,
" How in rash judgments my part I have done:
Martyr to sharpers, accomplice in ills,
How many clients I've ruined in bills!
How have I dwelt on Kings'-Counsellors' speech —
Gentry, who when they would eminence reach,
Bluster the louder, and innocence scare! —
Echoes, our lot is a hard one to bear! "
" I, " says another, " alas! in a church,
Over the pulpit was destined to perch:
Shall I my view of the sermon declare?
Shall I the faith of the clergy lay bare?
Yawning, their chants to the Highest would swell;
Sparing weak nerves, they but hinted at hell:
Nought, save the organ, sincerity showed —
Echoes, we're doomed to a wretched abode! "
" Chamber of Deputies! pent in thy hall,
I. " quoth the last, " have endured more than all:
Tribune! the rock on which Conscience is wrecked,
Nay, thou art not by a Manuel decked!
" Hush!" would they cry, when a generous word —
One in a thousand — astonished, I heard;
" Hush, Echo, hush! 't will reach Royalty's ear!" —
Echoes, our destiny 's cruel, 'tis clear! "
" Down with the law for poor angels, that thus
Echoes of babblers would make out of us, "
Clamors the phalanx — the chorus goes round —
" Speaking, the meanest of arts 'twill be found!
Weary of martyrdom, those in our place
Think that the spirits of darkness they face:
" Lift us, O God, from this hell!" have they cried —
Echoes, poor Echoes, how sorely we're tried! "
Sinning goes on up above there, be sure;
Echoes, 'tis known, are all spirits made pure
But when for slight peccadilloes they fall,
Sent to be purged in wood, valley, or wall,
There every cry, every word they repeat,
Long as they're doomed to the penitents' seat
Such is their sentence — in France 'tis severe —
Echoes are treated outrageously here!
Some of them, just from our earthiness freed —
Poor galley-slaves to whom others succeed —
Safe in the sky, their deplorable fate
Thus to their brothers, the angels, relate
" What with saloons, cafes, schools that abound,
Paris for us truly awful we've found;
There it rains words, sit the wind as it may —
Echoes, our doom is a hard one, we say! "
" Yes, " exclaims one, " at the Institute I,
Brothers, was pent in walls hollow and high:
Thence, with their learned discourses and shows,
Sounds without sense in abundance arose.
Dwarfs addle-headed, how many rehearse
Ethics, art, history, science, or verse,
Taking my voice for the trumpet of Fame —
Echoes, our treatment 's a scandalous shame! "
" Mured in the Palais de Justice , " says one,
" How in rash judgments my part I have done:
Martyr to sharpers, accomplice in ills,
How many clients I've ruined in bills!
How have I dwelt on Kings'-Counsellors' speech —
Gentry, who when they would eminence reach,
Bluster the louder, and innocence scare! —
Echoes, our lot is a hard one to bear! "
" I, " says another, " alas! in a church,
Over the pulpit was destined to perch:
Shall I my view of the sermon declare?
Shall I the faith of the clergy lay bare?
Yawning, their chants to the Highest would swell;
Sparing weak nerves, they but hinted at hell:
Nought, save the organ, sincerity showed —
Echoes, we're doomed to a wretched abode! "
" Chamber of Deputies! pent in thy hall,
I. " quoth the last, " have endured more than all:
Tribune! the rock on which Conscience is wrecked,
Nay, thou art not by a Manuel decked!
" Hush!" would they cry, when a generous word —
One in a thousand — astonished, I heard;
" Hush, Echo, hush! 't will reach Royalty's ear!" —
Echoes, our destiny 's cruel, 'tis clear! "
" Down with the law for poor angels, that thus
Echoes of babblers would make out of us, "
Clamors the phalanx — the chorus goes round —
" Speaking, the meanest of arts 'twill be found!
Weary of martyrdom, those in our place
Think that the spirits of darkness they face:
" Lift us, O God, from this hell!" have they cried —
Echoes, poor Echoes, how sorely we're tried! "
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