by
Robert Burns (1759 - 1796)
Behold, my love, how green the groves
Language: Scottish (Scots)
Available translation(s): FRE
[Behold, my love, how]1 green the groves,
The primrose banks how fair;
The balmy gales awake the flowers,
And wave thy flowing hair.
The lav'rock shuns the palace gay,
And o'er the cottage sings:
For Nature smiles as sweet, I ween,
To Shepherds as to Kings.
Let minstrels sweep the skilfu' string,
In lordly lighted ha':
The Shepherd stops his simple reed,
Blythe in the birken shaw.
The Princely revel may survey
Our rustic dance wi' scorn;
But are their hearts as light as ours,
Beneath the milk-white thorn!
The shepherd, in the flowery glen;
In shepherd's phrase, will woo:
The courtier tells a finer tale,
But is his heart as true!
These wild-wood flowers I've pu'd, to deck
That spotless breast o' thine:
The courtiers' gems may witness love,
But, 'tis na love like mine.
View original text (without footnotes)
1 in some editions, "My Chloris, mark how" (and titled "My Chloris, mark")
Authorship:
Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive):
Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):
- FRE French (Français) (Pierre Mathé) , "Vois ma Chloris", copyright © 2014, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
- GER German (Deutsch) (Anonymous/Unidentified Artist) , "Schau her, mein Lieb, der Wälder Grün"
Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [
Administrator]
This text was added to the website: 2004-08-03
Line count: 24
Word count: 136
Vois ma Chloris
Language: French (Français)  after the Scottish (Scots)
Vois ma Chloris comme les bosquets sont verts
Comme les primevères des berges sont belles ;
Les brises embaumées réveillent les fleurs,
Et gonflent tes cheveux agités.
L'alouette évite le joyeux palais
Et chante au-dessus du cottage :
Car Nature sourit aussi doucement, j'imagine
Aux bergers qu'aux rois.
Laisse les ménestrels pincer avec art leurs cordes
Dans les halls illuminés des seigneurs :
Le berger suspend son simple pipeau,
Heureux dans le bois de bouleaux.
Les festivités princières peuvent contempler
Avec mépris nos danses rustiques ;
Mais leurs cœurs sont-ils aussi légers que les nôtres
Sous la blanche aubépine !
Le berger, dans le vallon fleuri
Avec des phrases de berger fera sa cour :
Le courtisan aura un discours plus précieux,
Mais son cœur est-il aussi sincère ?
J'ai cueilli ces fleurs sauvages pour couvrir
Ta poitrine immaculée :
Les joyaux du courtisan peuvent témoigner de l'amour,
Mais ce n'est pas un amour comme le mien.
Authorship:
- Translation from Scottish (Scots) to French (Français) copyright © 2014 by Pierre Mathé, (re)printed on this website with kind permission. To reprint and distribute this author's work for concert programs, CD booklets, etc., you may ask the copyright-holder(s) directly or ask us; we are authorized to grant permission on their behalf. Please provide the translator's name when contacting us.
Contact: licenses@email.lieder.example.net
Based on:
- a text in Scottish (Scots) by Robert Burns (1759 - 1796), "Behold, my love, how green the groves", written 1794
This text was added to the website: 2014-07-13
Line count: 24
Word count: 157