Amours 1.177

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Au mesme lict où pensif je repose,
Presque ma Dame en langueur trespassa
Devant-hier, quand la fiévre effaça
Son teint d’œillets, et la lévre de rose.
 
Une vapeur avec sa fiévre esclose,
Dedans le lict son venin me laissa,
Qui par destin, diverse m’offensa
D’une autre fiévre en mes veines enclose.
 
L’un apres l’autre elle avoit froid et chaud :
Ne l’un ne l’autre à mon mal ne default :
Et quand l’un croist, l’autre ne diminue.
 
L’accés fiévreux tousjours ne la tentoit,
De deux jours l’un sa chaleur s’alentoit :
Je sens tousjours la mienne continue.
 
 
 
 
                                                                            In the same bed where I lie thoughtfully
                                                                            My Lady nearly drooped and died
                                                                            The day before yesterday, when fever wiped away
                                                                            Her carnation-pink tint and the rose from her lips.
 
                                                                            A vapour wrapped up in her fever
                                                                            Left me its poison in the bed
                                                                            Which, by fate, assaulted me in various ways
                                                                            With another fever shut within my veins.
 
                                                                            One after another, she was hot and cold;
                                                                            Neither one nor the other took away my pain;
                                                                            And when one grew, the other did not lessen.
 
                                                                            The feverish bout is not still attacking her;
                                                                            Of the two days one was when the heat went down;
                                                                            But I still feel my own continuing.
 
 
 
(No commentary needed; and no variants as I haven’t found this one in Blanchemain so far!)
 
 
 
 
 
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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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