Ronsard put together a sequence of 135 sonnets before his first lyric in the book; now, barely 10 sonnets later, comes a second!
| Ma Dame je n’eusse pensé, Opiniastre en ma langueur, Que ton cœur m’eust recompensé D’une si cruelle rigueur, Et qu’en lieu de me secourir Tes beaux yeux m’eussent fait mourir. Si prevoyant j’eusse apperceu, Quand je te vy premierement, Le mal que j’ay depuis receu Pour aimer trop loyalement, Mon cœur qui franc avoit vescu, N’eust pas esté si tost veincu. Tu fis promettre à tes beaux yeux Qui seuls me vindrent decevoir, De me donner encore mieux Que mon cœur n’esperoit avoir : Puis comme jalous de mon bien Ont transformé mon aise en rien. Si tost que je vy leur beauté, Amour me força d’un desir D’assujettir ma loyauté Sous l’empire de leur plaisir, Et décocha de leur regard Contre mon cœur le premier dard. Ce fut, Dame, ton bel accueil, Qui pour me faire bien-heureux, M’ouvrit par la clef de ton œil Le paradis des Amoureux, Et fait esclave en si beau lieu, D’un homme je devins un Dieu. Si bien que n’estant plus à moy, Mais à l’œil qui m’avoit blessé, Mon cœur en gage de ma foy A luy mon maistre j’ai laissé, Où serf si doucement il est Qu’une autre beauté luy desplaist. Et bien qu’il souffre jours et nuis Mainte amoureuse adversité Le plus cruel de ses ennuis Luy semble une felicité, Et ne sçauroit jamais vouloir Qu’un autre œil le face douloir. Un grand rocher qui a le doz Et les pieds tousjours outragez, Ores des vents, ores des flots Contre les rives enragez, N’est point si ferme que mon cueur Sous l’orage de ta rigueur. Car luy sans se changer, aimant Les beaux yeux qui l’ont en-rethé, Semble du tout au Diamant, Qui pour garder sa fermeté Se rompt plustost sous le marteau, Que se voir tailler de nouveau. Ainsi ne l’or qui peut tenter, Ny grace, beauté, ny maintien Ne sçauroyent dans mon cœur enter Un autre portrait que le tien, Et plustost il mourroit d’ennuy, Que d’en souffrir un autre en luy. Il ne faut donc pour empescher Qu’une autre Dame en ait sa part, L’environner d’un grand rocher, Ou d’une fosse, ou d’un rempart : Amour te l’a si bien conquis, Que plus il ne peut estre acquis. Chanson, les estoiles seront La nuict sans les Cieux allumer, Et plustost les vents cesseront De tempester dessus la mer, Que de ses yeux la cruauté Puisse amoindrir ma loyauté. | My Lady, I would not have thought, Stubborn in my languishing, That your heart would have repaid me With such cruel severity, And that instead of coming to my aid Your eyes would have done me to death. If, looking ahead, I had perceived When first I saw you The wrongs which I have since received From loving too faithfully, My heart, which had lived free, Would not have been to quickly overcome. You promised with your fair eyes Which came only to deceive me To give me still better Than my heart could hope to have; Then as if envious of my happiness They transformed my comfort to nothing. As soon as I saw their beauty, Love forced me through desire To make my fidelity subject To the rule of their pleasure, And shot from their glance The first dart into my heart. It was, my Lady, your fair welcome Which to make me happy Opened for me, with the key of your eyes, The paradise of lovers; Made a slave in so fair a place, Instead of a man I became a god. So happily that, no longer being my own But belonging to the eyes which had struck me, My heart as pledge of my faithfulness I left to them, my masters, Where as a serf so sweetly it rests That any other beauty displeases it. And although it suffers night and day So many a lover’s reverse, The cruellest of its pains Seems to it bliss, And it can never wish That any other eyes should make it unhappy. A great rock whose back And feet are always struck Now by winds, now by waves Furiously against the banks, Is not so firm as my heart Beneath the storm of your severity. For he, unchanging, loving The fair eyes which have netted him, Seems entirely like the Diamond Which to maintain its firmness Would rather break beneath the hammer Than be cut anew. Thus, neither gold which can tempt Nor grace, beauty and bearing Can place in my heart Any other picture but your own, And rather would it die of its troubles Than suffer any other [picture] in it. It is not necessary to prevent Another Lady from having part of it By encircling it with a great stone [wall] Or a ditch or rampart; Love has conquered it so well for you That it can no longer be bought. My song, the stars will light The night without the heavens, And sooner will the winds cease Storming over the sea, Than the cruelty of her eyes Can lessen my fidelity. |
Blanchemain’s version shows that Ronsard re-wrote much of the first stanza, but elsewhere only made minor changes. To avoid a long list & complicated back-and-forth referencnig to the version above, here’s the whole of the earlier version:
| Las ! je n’eusse jamais pensé, Dame qui causes ma langueur, De voir ainsi recompensé Mon service d’une rigueur, Et qu’en lieu de me secourir Ta cruauté m’eust fait mourir. Si, bien-accort, j’eusse apperceu, Quand je te vy premierement, Le mal que j’ay depuis receu Pour aimer trop loyalement, Mon cœur, qui franc avoit vescu, N’eust pas esté si tost vaincu. Mais tu fis promettre à tes yeux, Qui seuls me vindrent decevoir, De me donner encore mieux Que mon cœur n’esperoit avoir ; Puis comme jaloux de mon bien, Ont transformé mon aise en rien. Si tost que je vis leur beauté, Amour me força d’un desir D’assujettir ma loyauté Sous l’empire de leur plaisir, Et decocha de leur regard Contre mon cœur le premier dard. Ce fut, Dame, ton bel accueil, Qui, pour me faire bien-heureux, M’ouvrit par la clef de ton œil Le paradis des amoureux, Et, fait esclave en si beau lieu, D’un homme je devins un dieu. Si bien que, n’estant plus à moy, Mais à l’œil qui m’avoit blessé, Mon cœur en gage de ma foy A mon vainqueur j’ai délaissé, Où serf si doucement il est Qu’autre liberté luy desplaist ; Et, bien qu’il souffre jours et nuis Mainte amoureuse adversité, Le plus cruel de ses ennuis Luy semble une felicité, Et ne sçauroit jamais vouloir Qu’un autre œil le face douloir. Un grand rocher qui a le doz Et les pieds tousjours outragez, Ores des vents, ores des flots Contre les rives enragez, N’est point si ferme que mon cœur Sous l’orage d’une rigueur : Car luy, de plus en plus aimant Les beaux yeux qui l’ont en-reté, Semble du tout au diamant, Qui pour garder sa fermeté Se rompt plustost sous le marteau, Que se voir tailler de nouveau. Ainsi ne l’or qui peut tenter, Ny grace, beauté, ny maintien, Ne sçauroit dans mon cœur enter Un autre portrait que le tien, Et plustost il mourroit d’ennuy, Que d’en souffrir un autre en luy. Il ne faut donc, pour empescher Qu’une autre dame en ait sa part, L’environner d’un grand rocher, Ou d’une fossé, ou d’un rempart : Amour te l’a si bien conquis, Que plus il ne peut estre acquis. Chanson, les estoiles seront La nuict sans les cieux allumer, Et plustost les vents cesseront De tempester dessus la mer, Que de ses yeux la cruauté Puisse amoindrir ma loyauté. | Alas, I’d never have thought (my Lady, you who cause my languishing) To see repaid in this way My service with severity, And that instead of coming to my aid Your cruelty would have done me to death. If, fine and attractive, I had perceived When first I saw you The wrongs which I have since received From loving too faithfully, My heart, which had lived free, Would not have been to quickly overcome. But you promised with your eyes Which came only to deceive me To give me still better Than my heart could hope to have; Then as if envious of my happiness They transformed my comfort to nothing. As soon as I saw their beauty, Love forced me through desire To make my fidelity subject To the rule of their pleasure, And shot from their glance The first dart into my heart. It was, my Lady, your fair welcome Which to make me happy Opened for me, with the key of your eyes, The paradise of lovers; Made a slave in so fair a place, Instead of a man I became a god. So happily that, no longer being my own But belonging to the eyes which had struck me, My heart as pledge of my faithfulness I abandoned to my conqueror, Where as a serf so sweetly it rests That any other [kind of] freedom displeases it. And although it suffers night and day So many a lover’s reverse, The cruellest of its pains Seems to it bliss, And it can never wish That any other eyes should make it unhappy. A great rock whose back And feet are always struck Now by winds, now by waves Furiously against the banks, Is not so firm as my heart Beneath the storm of severity: For he, loving more and more The fair eyes which have netted him, Seems entirely like the Diamond Which to maintain its firmness Would rather break beneath the hammer Than be cut anew. Thus, neither gold which can tempt Nor grace, beauty and bearing Can place in my heart Any other picture but your own, And rather would it die of its troubles Than suffer any other [picture] in it. It is not necessary to prevent Another Lady from having part of it By encircling it with a great stone [wall] Or a ditch or rampart; Love has conquered it so well for you That it can no longer be bought. My song, the stars will light The night without the heavens, And sooner will the winds cease Storming over the sea, Than the cruelty of her eyes Can lessen my fidelity. |
Oeuvres de Ronsard 