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”.