Three poems in prose by Louise de Chateaubriand

How soft the light that comes to illuminate the East!
Is it young Aurora, half-opening upon the world
Her beautiful eyes still heavy with sleep?
Lovely goddess, make haste! Leave your marriage bed;
Take up your purple robe,
And let it be contained by a loosely-knotted belt;
Let no shoe press upon your delicate feet;
Let no adornment defile those lovely hands,
Made to open the doors of the day.
But you are already rising over the shadowy hill;
Your golden hair falls in damp curls over your rosy neck,
And a pure and sweet-scented breath issues from your mouth.
Tender goddess, all nature now smiles at your presence;
You alone shed tears, and the flowers are born.

Chaste goddess! Goddess so pure,
That even the pink hues of shame 
may never sully your soft light.
I dare to make you the confidante of my feelings.
Like you, I have no reason to blush 
for anything in my own heart;
But, like yours, my face is sometimes 
covered with clouds at the memory 
of humanity's unfair and blind judgment.
Like you, the errors and miseries 
of this world influence my dreams.
But, citizen of the heavens, you are happier than I,
For you always retain your serenity:
The storms and tempests that rise up from our world 
glide over your quiet surface.
Goddess, you who look kindly upon my sadness,
Pour your cold tranquility into my soul.

Daughter of heaven, kind Innocence!
If I dared use some of your features 
to attempt a weak portrait of you,
I would say that you substitute for virtue in childhood,
And for wisdom in the springtime of life;
For beauty in old age, 
and for happiness in misfortune.
That, a stranger to our indiscretions, 
you weep only pure tears,
And there is only divinity in your smile.
Beautiful Innocence! But wait! Dangers surround you;
Envy looks you full in the face.
Will you tremble, modest Innocence? 
Will you seek to shy away
From the perils that threaten you?
No: I see you standing asleep, 
your head resting upon an altar.