Amours 1.212

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Lest it seem I’ve forgotten Ronsard in my enthusiasm for the music, let’s have another sonnet!

 
D’une vapeur enclose sous la terre
Ne s’est conceu un air si ventueux :
Ny de ses flôs le Loir impetueux
Perdant noz bleds, les campagnes n’enserre.
 
Le Prince Eole en ces mois ne deterre
L’esclave orgueil des vents tumultueux,
Ny l’Ocean des flots tempestueux
De sa grand clef les sources ne desserre.
 
Seuls mes souspirs ont ce vent enfanté,
Et de mes pleurs le Loir s’est augmenté
Pour le depart d’une beauté si fiere :
 
Et m’esbahis de tant continuer
Souspirs et pleurs, que je n’ay veu muer
Les uns en vent, les autres en riviere.
 
 
 
 
                                                                            From no vapour shut up beneath the earth
                                                                            Was such a tempestuous breeze conceived ;
                                                                            Nor with his waves does the impetuous Loir,
                                                                            Destroying our sheep, enclose our fields.
 
                                                                            Prince Aeolus in those months does not unearth
                                                                            The slavish pride of the tumultuous winds,
                                                                            Nor does Ocean unfasten the springs
                                                                            Of his tempestous waves with his great key.
 
                                                                            Only my sighs have given birth to this wind,
                                                                            And with my tears the Loir has overflowed
                                                                            At the departure of so proud a beauty ;
 
                                                                            And it amazes me, as so many sighs and tears
                                                                            Continue, that I have not seen them change
                                                                            The ones into wind, the others into a river.
 
 
 
Ronsard enjoys nature, and shows himself keenly interested in his images of the Loir in particular. I have to say I’m not so taken by the first tercet, which seems a bit weak, but the rest of the poem is less formulaic and far better than a cursory reading might suggest.
 
Aeolus ‘unearths’ the wnids because he keeps them trapped in his cave until releasing them.
 
Strangely, in view of my comments above, it’s the opening that got re-worked by Ronsard! And rather considerably improved, I think.
 
 
D’une vapeur enclose sous la terre
Ne s’est pas fait cet esprit ventueux,
Ny par les champs le Loir impetueux
De neige cheute à toutes brides n’erre ;
 
Le Prince Eole en ces mois ne deterre
L’esclave orgueil des vents tumultueux,
Ny l’Ocean des flots tempestueux
De sa grand’ clef les sources ne desserre.
 
Seuls mes souspirs ont ce vent enfanté,
Et de mes pleurs le Loir s’est augmenté
Pour le depart d’une beauté si fiere :
 
Et m’esbahis de tant continuer
Souspirs et pleurs, que je n’ay veu muer
Mon cœur en vent et mes yeux en riviere.
 
 
 
                                                                            From no vapour shut up beneath the earth
                                                                            Was made this tempestuous spirit ;
                                                                            Nor across the fields does the impetuous Loir
                                                                            Wander, his bridle loosed with the fallen snow;
 
                                                                            Prince Aeolus in those months does not unearth
                                                                            The slavish pride of the tumultuous winds,
                                                                            Nor does Ocean unfasten the springs
                                                                            Of his tempestous waves with his great key.
 
                                                                            Only my sighs havaae given birth to this wind,
                                                                            And with my tears the Loir has overflowed
                                                                            At the departure of so proud a beauty ;
 
                                                                            And it amazes me, as so many sighs and tears
                                                                            Continue, that I have not seen
                                                                            My heart change into wind and my eyes into a river.
 
 
 
 
 
 
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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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