Imatges de pÓgina

A vant qu'Amour du Chaos ocieux

Ouvrit le sein qui couvoit la lumiere,
Avec la terre, avec l'onde premiere,

Sans art, sans forme etoient brouillez les cieux.
Tel mon esprit de rien industrieux,

Dedans mon corps, lorde et grosse matiere,
Erroit sans forme et sans figure entiere,

Quand l'arc d'Amour le perca par tes yeux.
Amour rendit ma nature parfaite,

Pure par lui mon essence s'est faite,

Il m'en donna la vie et le pouvoir.
Il echauffa tout mon sang de sa flame,

Et m'emportant de son vol, fit mouvoir

Avecques lui mes pensées et mon ame.
Or ever Love drew forth the slumbering light,

That in the bosom of old Chaos lay,
Earth, sea, and sky, without his primal ray,

Were in blank ruin sunk and formless night:
So, whelm'd in sloth, erewhile, my heavy spright

Did in a dull and senseless body stray,
Scarce life enough to stir the lumpish clay,

Till from thine eyes Love's arrow pierc'd my sight.
Then was I quicken’d; and, by Love inform’d,

My being to a new perfection came:

His influence my blood and spirits warm'd ;
And, as I mounted this low world above,

Following in thought and soul his sacred flame,

Love was my being, and my essence Love. The fifty-ninth is an imitation of Bembo. There is more elasticity and freedom in the copy than in the original. Comme un chevreuil, quand le printemps Si come suol, poi che'l verno aspro e rio, detruit

Parte e da loco alle gion migliori, Du froid hyver la poignante gelée, Uscir col giorno la cervetta fuori Pour mieux brouter la fueille emmiellée, Del suo dolce boschetto almo natio :

Hors de son bois avec l'aube s'enfuit : Ed or su per un colle, or lungo un rio E seul, e seur, loin de chiens et de bruit, Lontana dalle case e dai pastori,

Or sur un mont, or dans une valée, Gir secura pascendo erbetta e fiori
Or près d'une onde à l'escart recelée, Ovunque più la porta il suo desio :

Libre s'egaye où son pied le conduit: Ne teme di saetta o d'altro inganno,
De rets ne d'arcs sa liberté n'a crainte ; Se non quand' ella è colta in mezzo il
Sinon alors que sa vie est atteinte

fianco D'un trait sanglant, que le tient en lan- Da buon arcier che di nascosto scocchi. geur.

Cosi senza temer futuro affanno
Ainsi j'allois sans espoir de dommage, Moss' io, Donna, quel dì che bei vostri

Le jour qu'un ocil sur l'Avril de mon age occhi
Tira d'un coup mille traits en mon coeur. M'impiagar lasso tutto 'l lato manco.

As when fresh spring apparels wood and plain,

Forth from his native lair, a tender fawn
Issues alone and careless, if the dawn

Gin the grey east with flecker'd crimson stain;
And all unheeding of the hunter's train,

Wherever through his roving fancy drawn,
By lake or river, hill or flowery lawn,
Sports with light foot, and feeds and sports again ;
Nor aught he fears from meshes or from bow,

Till to his liver a fleet arrow sped

Has pierced, and panting on the earth he lies:
In my life's April thus wont I to go,

Of harm unfearing, where my fancy led,

Ere the dart reach'd me from her radiant eyes. The hundred and sixty-second, to Baïf, proves his high esteem for that writer, whom we have seen so much disparaged.


Pendant, Baïf, que tu frapes au but

De la vertu, qui n'a point de seconde,
Et qu'a longs traits tu t'enyvres de l'onde,

Que l'Ascrean entre les Muses but;
Ici banni, ou le mont de Sabut

Charge de vins son epaule feconde,
Pensif, je voy la fuite vagabonde

Du Loir qui traine en la mer son tribut.
Ores un antre, ores un bois sauvage,

Ores me plait le secret d'un rivage,
Pour essayer de tromper mon ennui ;
Mais je ne puis, quoique seul je me tienne,

Faire qu'Amour m'accompagnant ne vienne

Parler à moi, et moi toujours a lui. The conclusion of this is from Petrarch :

Ma pur si aspre vie e si selvagge

Cercar non sò, ch’Amor non venga sempre

Ragionando con meco, ed io con lui; where the variety in the metre gives the Italian poet a striking advantage over Ronsard.

Baïf, who, second in our age to none,

Dost with free step to Virtue's summit mount,
While thou allay'st thine ardour at the fount

Of Ascra, where the Muses met their son ;
An exile I, where sloping to the sun

Rich Sabut lifts his grape-empurpled mount,
Am fain to waste mine hours, and pensive count

Loire's wand'ring waves as ocean-ward they run.
And oft, to shun my cares, the haunt I change ;

Now linger in some nook the stream beside,

Now seek a wild wood, now a cavern dim.
But all avails not: whereso'er I range,

Love still attends, and ever at my side

Conversing with me walks, and I with him. There is more nature and passion which contains, besides other short in the two hundred and fourteenth poems, eighty sonnets, is devoted to sonnet, which begins

the praises of his Marie, the last Quand je te voy, discourant à par toy,

thirteen being written after her

death. It is confessedly in a more than I have observed in any of the familiar style than the First Book ; others.

yet is filled with images drawn from The Second Book of his Amours, the heathen mythology.

J'aime la fleur de Mars, j'aime la belle rose,

L'une qui est sacrée a Venus la deesse,
L'autre qui a le nom de ma belle Maistresse,

Pour qui troublé d'esprit en paix je ne repose.
J'aime trois oiselets, l'un qui sa plume arrose

De la pluye de May, et vers le ciel se dresse :
L'autre qui veuf au bois lamente sa destresse :

L'autre qui pour son fils mille versets compose.
J'aime un pin de Bourgueil, où Venus appendit

Ma jeune liberté, quand pris elle rendit

Mon coeur, que doucement un bel oeil emprisonne.
J'aime un beau laurier de Phebus l'arbrisseau,

Dont ma belle Maistresse, en pliant un rameau
Lié de ses cheveux, me fit une couronne.

Le Second Livre des Amours. Son. 28.
Two flowers I love, the March-flower and the rose,

The lovely rose that is to Venus dear,
The March-flower that of her the name doth bear,
Who will not leave my spirit in repose :

Three birds I love ; one, moist with May-dew, goes

To dry his feathers in the sun-shine clear;
One for his mate laments throughout the year,

And for his child the other wails his woes:
And Bourgueil's pine I love, where Venus hung,

For a proud trophy on the darksome bough,

Ne'er since releas'd, my youthful liberty:
And Phæbus' tree love I, the laurel tree,

Of whose fair leaves my mistress, when I sung,

Bound with her locks a garland for my brow. In one of his odes (Book v. 0.xi.) Whether she was so or not, does he again expresses his preference for not, I think, appear; but it was full these two flowers, the rose, and the time, for he was about fifty years violet, which he calls the flower of old. There is, however, another March, and supposes to bear the short book, entitled Amours Diverses; name of his Marie. That the lark and besides this, a large gleaning of was his favourite bird, appears from sonnets and odes, many of them on a passage in his Gayetez:

the same subject, which he did not

think worth gathering ; but which Alouette, Ma doucelette mignolette,

his editors were careful enough to Qui plus qu'un rossignol me plais

pick up and store along with the Qui chante en un bocage epais.

rest. Amongst these are some which

for more reasons than one I cannot After a few sonnets and madrigals recommend to the notice of my on another lady, whom he calls reader. We will pass them, and go Astree, and of whom we are not

on to his odes. told whether she was of the Queen These may be divided into two Mother's choosing or his own, we classes; some, in which he has imiproceed to his two books of sonnets tated the ancients; and others, that on Helene. These are a hundred

are the offspring of his own feelings and forty-two in number. He be- and fancy. In the former, unhapgins with swearing to her by her pily the larger number, Anacreon, brothers Castor and Pollux; by the Pindar, Callimachus, Horace, are vine that enlaced the elm; by the all laid under contribution by turns, meadows and woods, then sprouting and that with no sparing hand. It into verdure (it was the first day of was in his ability to transfuse the May); by the young Spring, eldest spirit of the old Theban into Gallic son of Nature; by the crystal that song, or as he called it, to Pindarise, rolled along the streams ; and by the that he most prided himself, and it nightingale, the miracle of birds,- was here that he most egregiously that she should be his last venture. failed.

Si dès mon enfance Ce premier jour de May, Helene je vous jure

Le premier en France Par Castor, par Pollux, vos deux freres

J'ai Pindarisé, jumeaux,

De telle entreprise Par la vigne enlassée à l'entour des or.

Heureusement prise

Je me voy prisé. meaux, Par les prez, par les bois herissez de ver.

Nothing can well be more unlike dure, Par le nouveau printemps fils aisné de na

the poet, whom he boasts to have in

troduced into his own language, ture,

As for Par le crystal qui roule au giron des than this tripping measure. ruisseaux,

the music of Pindar, indeed, that Et par le rossignol miracle des oiseaux, was out of the question. _ It was not Que seule vous serez ma derniere avan. in the power of the French, nor

Son. I. perhaps of any other language, to


* At the beginning of the next century, there was a translation of all Pindar into French, partly

in prose and partly in verse. It is not mentioned by Heyne when he is recounting the versions that have been made of that writer; nor have I seen any notice of it elsewhere. I will add the title of the book, and a specimen of it, taken from the beginning, which will be enough to satisfy any reader's curiosity :-Le Pindare Thebain.


return even a faint echo of it. But yap oletupuoŬ p$óvos, which Ronsard those who are acquainted with that has left indeed no longer one of the poet, know that another of his dis- dark sayings of the wise, but has tinctions consists, not only in the har- made almost ludicrous by the light diness of his metaphors, but in the in which he has placed it :no less light than firm touch with

C'est grand mal d'etre miserable, which he handles them. One in

Mais c'est grand bien d'etre envié. stance will be enough to show how

L. i. O. x. Strophe 22. ill Ronsard has represented this characteristic of his model. Pindar,

Sometimes on Pindar's stock he speaking of a man who had not, engrafts a conceit, than which no through neglect or forgetfulness, his fruit can be more alien to the parent task to do when it ought to have tree. Thus, of a passage in the been already done, says, that “he Second Pythian, v. 125 to 130, in did not come, bringing with him Ex- which the Theban appears to inticuse, the daughter of Afterthought;” mate, as he does elsewhere more or literally, “ of the late-minded plainly, that he expects a reward for Epimetheus."

his song ; Ronsard avails himself to "Ος ου ταν 'Επιμαθέος

tell his patron, that he shall see how "Aγων όψινόου θυγατέρα Πρό

liberally his praises will sound, if “a -φασιν Βαττιδάν

present gilds the chord,”
'Αφίκετο δόμους. Ρyth. V.38. Prince je t'envoye cette ode,

Trafiquant mes vers à la mode
How has Ronsard contrived to

Que le marchand baille son bien, spoil this in his application of it to Troque pour troq': toy qui es riche, the Constable Montmorency !

Toy Roy des biens, ne soit point chiche
Qui seul mettoit en evidence

De changer ton present au mien.
Les saints tresors de sa prudence,

Ne te lasse point de donner,
Ne s'est jamais accompagné

Et tu verras comme j'accorde
Du sot enfaut d'Epimethée,

L'honneur que je promets sonner,
Mais de celuy de Promethée,

Quand un present dore ma corde.
Par longues ruses enseigné.

L. i. 0,i. Antis. 8. L. i. 0. i. Strophe 6. This is truly anti-pindaric. Another of Pindar's excellences are Of that other class of odes, which those yrwat, sentences, or maxims, appear more like the overflowings of the effect of which results not more his own mind, and which have a from their appositeness than their better chance of pleasing the English compression. One of these is, that reader at least, I would point out “ Envy is better than pity,xpécowv the following :-in the first book, the

Traduction meslce de vers et de prose. Par le Sieur Lagausie. 1626. 8vo. Paris. Chez
Jean Laquehay.

OL. 1.
La force de chasque element

Paroit par leurs effects contraires,
Mais le moindre de l'eau surmonte absolument

Tous ceux de ses trois freres.
Parmy les differens metaux

Des thresors d'un superbe avare
L'esclat de l'or fait treuver faux

L'esclat des autres le plus rare,
Brillant contre eux comme un flambeau qui luit

Dans les tenebres de la nuict,
Si tant est que mon coeur se pique

De soin de descrire un combat
Dont tous les Grecs vont voir l'esbat,

Il faut parler de l'Olympique.
D'autant que comme on voit que l'astre du soleil
Allumant un beau jour a perruque espandue

Esclaire la vaste estendue

De l'air sans avoir son pareil.
Je ne sçaurois non plus treuver un tournay comparable à l'Olympique, &c.

seventeenth ; in the second, the ele- Dieu vous gard, belles paqucrettes, venth, to his preceptor Jean Dorat, Belles roses, belles fleurettes, and the eighteenth to his lacquey;

Et vous boutons jadis cognus in the third, the eighth to the Foun

Du sang d'Ajax et de Narcisse : tain Bellerie, the twenty-first to

Et vous thym, anis, et melisse, Gaspar D'Auvergne, and the two

Vous soyez les bien revenus. following it; in the fourth book, ode

Dieu vous gard, troupe diaprée the fourth, on the choice of his burial

De papillons, qui par la prée place, together with the eighteenth Les douces herbes suçotez; and nineteenth, which I subjoin with Et vous nouvel essain d'abeilles, a translation; and in the fifth and Qui les fleurs jaunes et vermeilles last book, odes eleven and seven

De votre bouche baisotez: teen.

Cent mille fois je resaluë Dieu vous gard, messagers fidelles

Votre belle et donce venuë:
Du printemps, vistes arondelles,

O que j'aime ceste saison,
Hupes, cocus, rossignolets,

Et ce doux caquet de rivages
Tourtres, et vous oiseaux sauvages,

Au prix des vents et des orages Qui de cent sortes de ramages

Qui m'enfermoient en la maison.
Animez les bois verdelets.

L. iv. 0. xviii.
God shield ye, heralds of the spring,
Ye faithful swallows fleet of wing,

Houps, cuckoos, nightingales,
Turtles, and every wilder bird,
That make your hundred chirpings heard

Through the green woods and dales.
God shield ye, Easter daisies all,
Fair roses, buds and blossoms small;

And ye, whom erst the gore
Of Ajax and Narciss did print,
Ye wild thyme, anise, balm, and mint,

I welcome ye once more.
God shield ye, bright embroider'd train
Of butterflies, that, on the plain,

Of each sweet herblet sip;
And ye new swarm of bees that go
Where the pink flowers and yellow grow,

To kiss them with your lip.
A hundred thousand times I call
A hearty welcome on ye all :

This season how I love!
This merry din on every shore,
For winds and storms, whose sullen roar

Forbade my steps to rove.

Bel aubespin florissant,

Le long de ce beau rivage,
Tu es vestu jusqu'au bas

Des longs bras
D'une lambrunche sauvage.
Deux camps de rouges fourmis

Se sont mis
En garnison sous ta souche:
Dans les pertuis de ton tronc

Tout du long
Les avettes ont leur couche.
Le chantre rossignolet

Courtisant sa bien aimée,

L. iv. 0. xix.

Pour ses amours alleger

Vient loger
Tous les ans en ta ramée.
Sur ta cimc il fait son ny

Tout uny
De mousse et de fine soye,
Ou ses petits esclurront

Qui seront
De mes mains la douce proye.
Or vy; gentil aubespin,

Vy sans fin,
Vy sans que jamais tonnere,
Ou la coignée, ou les vents,

Ou les temps
Te puissent ruer par terre.

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