|C.D. Warner, et al., comp. The Library of the Worlds Best Literature.|
An Anthology in Thirty Volumes. 1917.
|By Edmond Rostand (18681918)|
From Chantecler: Translation of Charles Hall Grandgent in Kittredge Anniversary Papers
| [The Hen Pheasant, jealous of her lovers devotion to the sun, tries to rid him of his illusion. Hiding the East from him at dawn, she distracts his attention until daybreak; then, showing him the light, she tauntingly cries:|
But in the face of evidence the Cock, after a moment of despair, renews his faith. Even though his individual ministry be not indispensable as he had thought, he is still a collaborator in some vast, mysterious mission destined to produce, in the vague future, greater good than he had ever before conceived.]
| ||Thou seest the sun can rise without thy help!|
|PHEASANTThou seest the sun can rise without thy help!|
| ChanticleerThe herald I of a remoter sun!|
|My cries, piercing Nights veil, inflict on her|
|Those stabs of daylight which we take for stars!|
|I neer shall see on spire and belfry gleam|| 5|
|That final heaven, of clusterd orbs compact.|
|But if I crow, precise and loud, and if,|
|Long after me, in years to come, a Cock|
|Shall crow, loud and precise, in every farm,|
|Night will exist no more!|
Pheasant But when?
Chanticleer Some day!