A phenomenon.

On a night such as one of those of spring, When in the heavens the gentle stars are glittering, And when good burghers of the town Were talking, as they walked tranquilly up and down, Along the spacious avenues.

Each one in his turn his gaze did unloose From the ground up to the celestial fields, Without doubt you suppose That the subjects of their discourse Were upon the eternal power, without magic, And how the bodies submit to laws of sound harmony? No: they were giving other courses To their thoughts; from the exchange to the quotation of the purse, From the harvests to the price, they were all attention With which their soul was nourished, When one of them said, without calm, As if under the action of a sudden stupor: “What do I see? Can it be? a star in splendor? Now it rises… now descending!”

And rubbing his eyes: “What am I saying, A star… Why, I believe, upon my faith, indeed, Unless it be a dream and I am in it believing; One, two, or three, four stars in the heavens Move and dance in silence;

Strange mystery, the night conquers it With pleasure hiding it within its veils!” And the astonished soul of the burghers follows Its phenomenal phases, Which, to explain it, in vain it wearies itself too much; Therein is only the trickery of chance. They march, and amid the cords that touch them on the brow Sustaining through the air each kite When of a trial light At the breath of an innocent breeze;

And of the children, the authors at last of that splendor, Near it they laughed with love.

What did they say after that double surprise, Soon after their disenchantments?

That through the heavens such fires, so many, Are mere artifice, a work of simplicity, To lead fools to such great astonishments. The horizon too inflames itself in purple, And then envelops the night in mysterious light; As if from a meteor the flame In the darkness of the heavens resplendent shone radiant; That a shooting star in its living rings Should wish to tear the fields of the ether, These good burghers, with eyes and arms in the air, Will go to try to find their cords.

If truth always has some imitation, It falls to us to distinguish, and by comparison, All the truth from the imposture.

Vain skepticism leads to charlatanism Before facts that are even of the eternal law. And to judge well any cause or effect, May a skeptic be accepted:

If with modesty, – and good faith.

C. Dombre, of Marmande.