Sonnet 102

Par l’œil de l’ame à toute heure je voy
Ceste beauté dedans mon cœur presente :
Ny mont, ny bois, ny fleuve ne m’exente,
Que par pensée elle ne parle à moy.
Dame, qui sçais ma constance et ma foy,
Voy, s’il te plaist, que le temps qui s’absente,
Depuis sept ans en rien ne desaugmente
Le plaisant mal que j’endure pour toy.
De l’endurer lassé je ne suis pas,
Ny ne serois, allassé-je là bas
Pour mille fois en mille corps renaistre.
Mais de mon cœur je suis desja lassé,
Qui me desplaist, et plus ne me peut estre
Cher comme il fut, puis que tu l’as chassé.
                                                                            Through the eye of my soul, at every moment I see
                                                                            That beauty present within my heart;
                                                                            No hill, no wood, no river gives me relief
                                                                            That in thought she does not speak to me.
                                                                            My Lady, you know my constancy and faithfulness,
                                                                            Please see that the time which has gone
                                                                            Has not, in seven years, in any way reduced
                                                                            The pleasing pain that I endure for you.
                                                                            Of enduring it I am not weary,
                                                                            Nor shall I be, even if after death I was allowed
                                                                            To be born again a thousand times in a thousand bodies.
                                                                            But of my heart I am already weary;
                                                                            It displeases me, and can no longer be to me
                                                                            Dear as it was, since you hunted it down.




Blanchemain’s earlier version has a number of small differences, including the opening: “Las ! sans la voir à toute heure je voy” (‘Alas! Without sight of it, at every moment I see’). I’m not sure the replacement is a big improvement but it does remove the repeat of “voir … voy”.
In line 10, the earlier version has “Ny ne seroy-je, allassé-je là bas”, the later version providing a better caesura in mid-line; the last tercet a number of small differences – the main improvement being the loss of that “sans plus” which seems unsure what it refers back to – more of what?!
Mais de mon cœur sans plus je suis lassé,
Qui me desplaist et qui plus ne peut estre
Mien comme il fut, puis que tu l’as chassé.
                                                                            But of my heart I am weary without any more;
                                                                            It displeases me, and can no longer be
                                                                            Mine as it was, since you hunted it down.

A short interlude now as I am away for a week or two.


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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