As I am preparing my heart for the remembrance of the Cross of Christ and the celebration of His resurrection, I have translated a poem by the Nineteenth century French poet Alfred de Vigny. There are three parts to Le Mont des Oliviers (The Mount of Olives), below is Part III-the Conclusion, where Jesus fulfills His destiny on the cross. De Vigny ends his prose with Jesus on the Cross. Praise God that this is not the end of the story.

Through this reflection, I am reminded that at the Cross of Jesus, He paid the ultimate price for my selfishness and my failures. I am reminded that I am a deeply loved person because Jesus fully knows me and loves me. His love for me inspires me to be more that I have ever dreamed to be. As a Christian who celebrates the Resurrection of Jesus, I am thankful that an empty tomb equals a full life for me, here on Earth and in Eternity with Him.

Le Mont des Oliviers by Alfred de Vigny

“Mal et Doute! En un mot je puis les mettre en poudre.
Vous les aviez prévus, laissez-moi vous absoudre
De les avoir permis.—C’est l’accusation
Qui pèse de partout sur la création!—
Sur son tombeau désert faisons monter Lazare.
Du grand secret des morts qu’il ne soit plus avare,
Et de ce qu’il a vu donnons-lui souvenir;
Qu’il parle. –Ce qui dure et ce qui doit finir,
Ce qu’a mis le Seigneur au cœur de la Nature,
Ce qu’elle prend et donne à toute créature,
Quels sont avec le ciel ses muets entretiens,
Son amour ineffable le et ses chastes liens;

My English Translation

[“Doubt and Evil! In one word I can put to flight.
You planned them, leave me to suffer
Of having permitted them. It is the accusation
Which weighs upon all Creation!—
On his deserted tomb, let Lazarus be raised again.
Of this great secret of the dead let him no more be bothered,
And of what he has seen, let us remind him,
Let him speak!—What endures and what must end,
What the Lord has placed in the heart of Nature,
What He takes and gives to every creature,
That which are muted talks with Heaven,
Her ineffable love and her chaste bonds;]

Comment tout s’y détruit et tout s’y renouvelle,
Pourquoi ce qui s’y cache et ce qui s’y révèle;
Si les astres des cieux tour à tour éprouvés
Sont comme celui-ci coupables et sauvés;
Si la terre est pour eux ou s’ils sont pour la terre;
Ce qu’a de vrai la fable et de clair le mystère,
D’ignorant le savoir et de faux la raison;
Pourquoi l’âme est liée en sa faible prison,
Et pourquoi nul sentier entre deux large voies,
Entre l’ennui de calme et des paisibles joies
Et la rage sans fin de vagues passions,
Entre la léthargie et les convulsions;

[How all is destroyed there and all is renewed;
Why are they hidden there and what is revealed;
If the stars of the skies, each, in their order, tested
Are,  like this world, stained and purified;
If the earth is for them and they are for the Earth;
What fable is true and what mystery is clear,
What knowledge is ignorant and what reason is false,
Why is the soul bound to its weak prison,
And why no path between the two broad ways,
Can bring the weariness of calm and peaceful days
And the endless rage of passions vague,
Between lethargy and convulsions;]

Et pourquoi pend la Mort comme une sombre épée
Attristant la Nature à tout moment frappée;
Si le juste et le bien, si l’injuste et le mal
Sont de vils accidents en un cercle fatal,
Ou si de l’univers ils sont les deux grands pôles,
Soutenant terre et cieux sur leurs vastes épaules;
Et pourquoi les Esprits de mal sont triomphants
Des maux immérités, de la mort des enfants;
Et si les Nations sont des femmes guides
Par les étoiles d’or des divines idées,
Ou de folles enfants sans lampes dans le nuit,
Se heurtant et pleurant, et que rien ne conduit;
Et si, lorsque des temps l’horloge périssable
Aura jusqu’au dernier verse ses grains de sable,
Un regard de vos yeux, un cri de votre voix,
Un soupir de mon cœur, un signe de ma croix,
Pourra faire ouvrir l’ongle aux Peines éternelles,
Lâcher leur proie humaine et reployer leurs ailes.
–Tout sera révélé dès que l’homme saura
De quels lieux il arrive et dans quels il ira.”

[And why, like a somber sword, does Death hang,
Still saddening Nature at all times;
If the just and the good, the unjust and the bad
Are vile accidents in a fatal circle,
Or if the universe, they are the two great poles,
Supporting on their shoulders the Earth and Heavens;
And why the spirits of evil are triumphant
Of underserved evils, of the death of children;
If the nations women are guiding
The golden stars of Ideas divine,
Or wild children without lamps in the night,
Colliding and weeping, lead by nothing;
And if, when, the years, Time’s perishable clock
Will have until the last hour, pour its grains of sand,
A look from your eyes, a cry from your voice,
A sigh from my heart, a sign from my cross,
Will make the Eternal Pains their dreadful nails unclose,
Unleash their human prey and spread their wings.
–All will be revealed as soon as once man knows
The places whence he came and wherever he goes.”]

Ainsi le divin Fils parlait au divin Père
Il se prosterna encore, il attend, il espère,
Mais il renonce et dit: “Que votre volonté
Soit faite et non la mienne, et pour l’éternité!”
Une terreur profonde, une angoisse infinie
Redoublent sa torture et sa lente agonie.
Il regarde longtemps, longtemps cherche sans voir.
Comme un marbre de deuil tout le ciel était noir;
La Terre, sans clartés, sans aster et sans aurore,
Et sans clartés de l’âme ainsi qu’elle est encore,
Frémissait. –Dans le bois il entendit des pas,
Et puis il vit rôder la torche de Judas.

[Thus the Divine Son spoke to the Divine Father,
He fell prostrate, again he waits, he hopes,
But he surrenders and says, “Let your will
Be done and not mine, and for eternity!”
A deep terror, an infinite anguish
Doubles his pain and his slow agony.
He gazes for a long time, searches for a long time unseeing.
As a pall of mourning, the heavens went black;
The Earth, without brightness, without stars and without dawn,
Devoid of the soul’s light,  as it still is,
And quivered. –In the wood he heard footsteps,
And through the gloom he saw the torch of Judas hovering.]

Work Cited

Canfield, Arthur G., and Patterson, W.F. French Poems. New York: Holt & Co. 1941.