Is This Victor Hugo’s Most Famous Poem?

San Cassimally
The Story Hall
Published in
2 min readFeb 27, 2019

(In his lifetime Victor Hugo was considered the greatest living novelist, playwright and poet. The poem below is thought by many to be his best. I have tried to translate it, and present it to you here, with the original in French.)

My Heroic Father

My dashing and heroic father

With one hussar cherish’d above any other

For his great bravery and for his great height

Were riding from the battlefield one night

With the sun setting on the slain, still and unstirred

When from the shadows a faint noise he heard.

It was a Spanish soldier in full flight

Breathless, creeping away with all his might

Gasping, broken, pale and more than half dead

‘A drink! A drink! For pity’s sake,’ he said

Much moved, father detached a rum-filled jar

From his saddle, toss’d it to his hussar

Saying: ‘Here, buy this poor wounded fellow a round.’

But suddenly whilst the hussar was bending down

The man, no doubt a Blackamoor

Tightene’d his grip on a gun in his hand some more

And shouting,‘Caramba!’ aim’d at father’s forehead

’Twas so close it blew his hat off his head

The horse took fright and bridled up

Father told the marauder: ‘Drink up man, drink up.’

Courtesy Getty Images

Mon Père Ce Héros

Mon père, ce héros au sourire si doux,

Suivi d’un seul housard qu’il aimait entre tous

Pour sa grande bravoure et pour sa haute taille,

Parcourait à cheval, le soir d’une bataille,

Le champ couvert de morts sur qui tombait la nuit.

Il lui sembla dans l’ombre entendre un faible bruit.

C’était un Espagnol de l’armée en déroute

Qui se traînait sanglant sur le bord de la route,

Râlant, brisé, livide, et mort plus qu’à moitié.

Et qui disait: “ A boire! à boire par pitié !

“Mon père, ému, tendit à son housard fidèle

Une gourde de rhum qui pendait à sa selle,

Et dit: “Tiens, donne à boire à ce pauvre blessé.

“Tout à coup, au moment où le housard baissé

Se penchait vers lui, l’homme, une espèce de maure,

Saisit un pistolet qu’il étreignait encore,

Et vise au front mon père en criant: “Caramba! “

Le coup passa si près que le chapeau tomba

Et que le cheval fit un écart en arrière.

“ Donne-lui tout de même à boire “, dit mon père.

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San Cassimally
The Story Hall

Prizewinning playwright. Mathematician. Teacher. Professional Siesta addict.