Amours 2:41

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Je reçoy plus de joye à regarder vos yeux,
Qu’à boire, qu’à manger, qu’à dormir, ny qu’à faire
Chose qui soit à l’ame ou au corps necessaire,
Tant de vostre regard je suis ambitieux.
 
Pource ny froid hyver, ny esté chaleureux
Ne me peut empescher que je n’aille complaire
A ce cruel plaisir, qui me rend tributaire
De vos yeux qui me sont si doux et rigoureux.
 
Marie, vous avez de vos lentes œillades
Gasté de mes deux yeux les lumieres malades,
Et si ne vous chaut point du mal que m’avez fait.
 
Ou guarissez mes yeux, ou confessez l’offense :
Si vous la confessez, je seray satisfait,
Me donnant un baiser pour toute recompense.
 
 
                                                                            I get more joy from looking into your eyes
                                                                            Than from drinking, eating, sleeping, doing
                                                                            Anything which might be necessary to soul or body,
                                                                            So eager am I for your glance.
 
                                                                            Thus neither cold winter nor hot summer
                                                                            Can stop me from delighting
                                                                            In this cruel pleasure of bringing tribute
                                                                            To your eyes which to me are both so sweet and harsh.
 
                                                                            Marie, you have with your slow glances
                                                                            Wrecked the weak lights of my eyes
                                                                            And yet you care nothing for the harm you’ve done me.
 
                                                                            Either cure my eyes, or confess the offence:
                                                                            If you confess it I’ll be satisfied
                                                                            And just one kiss will be all my recompense.
 
 
There is a small cluster of Marie poems which refer to her having some sort of eye-condition. It appears that Ronsard’s eyes too got infected – whether just for poetic reasons, or in real life, depends on your views on the autobiographical authenticity of his poetry. Ronsard of course turns the messy illness into poetic gold.
 
This eye-condition is the reason that Belleau connects the Sinope poems with Marie. Indeed, as we shall see in another poem, Ronsard himself provides what you might think a convincing statement that Sinope and Marie are the same, when he states explicitly that he called Marie ‘Sinope’ (Greek: without sight) because of her condition. (We might think that a little insensitive: but perhaps the rules of finding classicizing pseudonyms override such concerns … !)
 
Blanchemain’s version again keeps Sinope’s name not Marie’s, and has a couple of other minor differences: here I think the later changes are a clear improvement, both for sense (in the final tercet) and for vividness (‘joy’ in line 1 rather than ‘good’).
 
 
Je reçoy plus de bien à regarder vos yeux,
Qu’à boire, qu’à manger, qu’à dormir, ny qu’à faire
Chose qui soit à l’ame ou au corps necessaire,
Tant de vostre regard je suis ambitieux.
 
Pource ny froid hyver, ny esté chaleureux
Ne me peut empescher que je n’aille complaire
A ce cruel plaisir, qui me rend tributaire
De vos yeux qui me sont si doux et rigoureux.
 
Sinope, vous avez de vos lentes œillades
Gasté de mes deux yeux les lumieres malades,
Et si ne vous chaut point du mal que m’avez fait.
 
Au moins guarissez les, ou confessez l’offense :
Si vous la confessez, je seray satisfait,
Me donnant un baiser pour toute recompense.
 
 
                                                                            I get more good from looking into your eyes
                                                                            Than from drinking, eating, sleeping, doing
                                                                            Anything which might be necessary to soul or body,
                                                                            So eager am I for your glance.
 
                                                                            Thus neither cold winter nor hot summer
                                                                            Can stop me from delighting
                                                                            In this cruel pleasure of bringing tribute
                                                                            To your eyes which to me are both so sweet and harsh.
 
                                                                            Sinope, you have with your slow glances
                                                                            Wrecked the weak lights of my eyes
                                                                            And yet you care nothing for the harm you’ve done me.
 
                                                                            At least cure them, or confess the offence:
                                                                            If you confess it I’ll be satisfied
                                                                            And just one kiss will be all my recompense.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
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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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