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Victor Hugo - SongVictor Hugo - Song
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He shines through history like a sun. For thrice five years He bore bright victory through the dun King-shadowed spheres; Proud Europe `neath his law of might Low-bowed the knee. Thou, poor ape, hobble after aright, Petit, petit! Napoleon in the roar of fight, Calm and serene, Guided athwart the fiery flight His eagle keen. Upon Arcola bridge he trod, And came forth free. Come! here is gold; adore thy god, Petit, petit! Viennas were his lights-o-love, He ravished them; Blithely he seized brave heights above By the iron hem; Castles caught he by the curls, His brides to be: For thee here are the poor, pale girls. Petit, petit! He passed o`er mountains, deserts, plains, Having in hand The palm, the lightening, and the reins Of every land; Drunken, he tottered on the brink Of deity. Here is sweet blood! quick, run to the drink, Petit, petit! Then, when he fell, loosening the world, The abysmal sea Made wide here depths for him, down-hurled By Liberty; Th` archangel plunged from where he stood, And earth breathed free. Thou! drown thyself in thy own mud, Petit, petit!
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