Sonnet 1

Je songeois sous l’obscur de la nuict endormie,
Qu’un sepulcre entre-ouvert s’apparoissoit à moy :
La Mort gisoit dedans toute palle d’effroy,
Dessus estoit escrit Le tombeau de Marie.
Espouvanté du songe en sursault je m’escrie,
Amour est donc sujet à nostre humaine loy !
Il a perdu son regne, et le meilleur de soy,
Puis que par une mort sa puissance est perie.
Je n’avois achevé, qu’au poinct du jour voicy
Un Passant à ma porte adeulé de soucy,
Qui de la triste mort m’annonça la nouvelle.
Pren courage mon ame, il faut suivre sa fin,
Je l’entens dans le ciel comme elle nous appelle :
Mes pieds avec les siens ont fait mesme chemin.
                                                                                            I dreamed, asleep in the dark of the night,
                                                                                            That a half-open tomb appeared to me;
                                                                                            Death lay within, all pale with terror,
                                                                                            And above was written: The tomb of Marie.
                                                                                            Overwhelmed by the dream I leapt up and cried
                                                                                            “Love then is subject to our human law!
                                                                                            He has lost his kingdom, and the best of himself,
                                                                                            Since through a death his power has perished.”
                                                                                            I’d just said this when at daybreak, see,
                                                                                            A passer-by at my door, grief-stricken,
                                                                                            Who told me the news of this sad death.
                                                                                            Take courage, my soul, I must follow her end;
                                                                                            I hear her in heaven as she calls us;
                                                                                            My feet with hers must make the same journey.
The beginning of the second part of ‘Marie’, added by Ronsard in the 1470s following her death.  Ronsard sets the tone promptly, and effectively, with this dramatic vision.

About fattoxxon

Who am I? Lover of all sorts of music - classical, medieval, world (anything from Africa), world-classical (Uzbek & Iraqi magam for instance), and virtually anything that won't be on the music charts... Lover of Ronsard's poetry (obviously) and of sonnets in general. Reader of English, French, Latin & other literature. And who is Fattoxxon? An allusion to an Uzbek singer - pronounce it Patahan, with a very plosive 'P' and a throaty 'h', as in 'khan')

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