The eulogy of a hero, Rimbaud's poem on Jugurtha
In the mountains of Algeria, his race will be reborn:
The wind has said the name of a new Jugurtha...
Of the second Jugurtha of these ardent peoples,
The first days barely fled to the West,
When before his parents, a terrifying ghost,
The shadow of Jugurtha, leaning over their child,
began to recount his life and his misfortune:
''O fatherland! O the land where my valor shone!”
And the voice was lost in the sighs of the wind.
''Rome, this impure den, crowded with brigands,
Escaped from the first of its walls which it jostles,
Rome the scoundrel, between its tentacles
Suffocated its neighbors and, in the end, over everything
Extended its empire! Very often, under the yoke
We folded. Sometimes the rebellious peoples
Competed in ardor and, for freedom,
Shed their blood. In vain !
Rome, that nothing can stop,
Knew how to exterminate those who stood up to it!….''
In the mountains of Algeria, his race will be reborn: The wind has said the name of a new Jugurtha… ''
From this Rome, as a child, I had believed the soul to be pure.
When I could discern his face a little better,
On his sovereign flank, I saw the deep wound!…
The sacred thirst for gold was flowing, filthy venom,
Spread in his blood, in his body covered
With arms! And a whore reigned over the Universe!
To this queen, I declared war,
I defied the Romans under whom the earth trembled!….''
In the mountains of Algeria, his race will be reborn:
The wind has said the name of a new Jugurtha…
''When in the councils of the king of Numidia,
Rome insinuated itself, and, by its perfidy,
Was going to chain us, I saw the danger
And decided to frustrate his plans,
Knowing well that it was torturing his entrails!
O people of heroes! O glory of battles!
Rome, queen of the world and who sowed death,
Crawled at my feet, wallowing, drunk with gold!
Oh yes ! We laughed at Rome la Goulue!
Of a certain Jugurtha we spoke so much and more,
Which no one, indeed, could have resisted!''
In the mountains of Algeria, his race will be reborn:
The wind has said the name of a new Jugurtha…
''Manded by the Romans, even into their City,
Me, Numidian, I entered! Braving his royal forehead,
I sent a slap to his venal troops!…
This people finally resumed his abandoned arms:
I raised my sword. Without the foolish hope
To triumph. But Rome was being tested!
To the legions I opposed my rocks and my rivers.
The Romans in Libya fight in the sands.
They must take almost impregnable forts elsewhere:
With their blood, dazed, they see our fields redden,
Twenty times, without conceiving such relentlessness!''
In the mountains of Algeria, his race will be reborn:
The wind has said the name of a new Jugurtha…
''Who knows if I won't have won the victory?
But that deceitful Bocchus... And that's my story.
I left my court and my kingdom without regrets:
The breath of the rebel was at the front of Rome!
But France today reigns over Algeria!…
From its disastrous destiny snatching the fatherland.
Avenge us, my child! At the polls, enslaved crowd!...
May the brave live again in your ardent hearts!...
Drive out the invader! By the sword of your fathers,
By my name, water our land with his blood!…
O that from Algeria arise a hundred lions,
Tearing under their vengeful fangs the battalions!
Heaven help you, child! And grow old fast!
For too long the French have sullied our shores!…''
And the child, laughing, played with a sword!…
II. Napoleon! Alas! We have shattered the dream
Of the second Jugurtha who languishes in chains...
Then, in the shadows, we see like a human form,
Whose appeased mouth drops these words:
''Don't cry any more, my son! Give in to the new God!
Here are better days! Forgiven by France,
Accepting at the end its generous alliance,
You will see Algeria prosper under its law…
Grand of an immense land, priest of our rights,
Conserve, with faith, the cherished memory
Of the name of Jugurtha!… Never forget your fate:
III. Because I am the genius of the shores of Algeria!…''
Poem translated from Latin – Arthur RIMBAUD
Source : websites