Amours 1.200

Les vers d’Homere entre-leus d’aventure,
Soit par destin, par rencontre ou par sort,
En ma faveur chantent tous d’un accord
La guarison du tourment que j’endure.
Ces vieux Barbus, qui la chose future
Des traits des mains, du visage et du port
Vont predisant, annoncent reconfort
Aux passions de ma peine si dure.
Mesmes la nuict, le somme qui vous met
Douce en mon lict, augure me promet
Que je verray vos fiertez adoucies :
Et que vous seule oracle de l’amour,
Verifirez en mes bras quelque jour
L’arrest fatal de tant de propheties.
                                                                            The poetry of Homer, glanced over at random,
                                                                            Whether by fate or accident or luck
                                                                            Sings all in harmony for my benefit
                                                                            The cure of the torment which I endure.
                                                                            Those bearded ancients, who future things
                                                                            Predicted by the features of hands, of the face,
                                                                            Of the way you walk, announce comfort
                                                                            For the passions of my harsh suffering.
                                                                            Even the night and sleep which place you
                                                                            Softly in my bed, make me the prophecy
                                                                            That I shall see your pride softened;
                                                                            And that you, sole oracle of love,
                                                                            Will someday make true in my arms
                                                                            The inevitable end of so many prophecies.
The idea of using ancient texts as oracles is a commonplace, though most people would think of opening the Bible at random rather than a copy of Homer! But this is all part of the learned image Ronsard wants to project – and to play with, for after all it is not so learned to resort to ancient texts at random for oracular (almost astrological) predictions…
Only one variant in Blanchemain, in the penultimate line, where Casandre “Verifirez dans mes bras…”. The change which has no impact on the meaning, only on the sound of the line, in the later version swapping out the hard ‘d’ sound of “dans” and replacing it with the soft and sensuous ‘z’ sound that comes from placing a vowel after the -ez ending of “verifirez”.

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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