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Ye elves of hills, brooks, standing...

Language: English

Ye elves of hills, brooks, standing lakes, and groves;
And ye that on the sands with printless foot
Do chase the ebbing Neptune, and do fly him
When he comes back; you demi-puppets that
By moonshine do the green sour ringlets make,
Whereof the ewe not bites; and you whose pastime
Is to make midnight mushrooms, that rejoice
To hear the solemn curfew; by whose aid,--
Weak masters though ye be,--I have bedimm'd
The noontide sun, call'd forth the mutinous winds,
And 'twixt the green sea and the azur'd vault
Set roaring war: to the dread rattling thunder
Have I given fire, and rifted Jove's stout oak
With his own bolt: the strong-bas'd promontory
Have I made shake; and by the spurs pluck'd up
The pine and cedar: graves at my command
Have wak'd their sleepers, op'd, and let them forth
By my so potent art. But this rough magic
I here abjure; and, when I have requir'd
Some heavenly music,--which even now I do,--
To work mine end upon their senses that
This airy charm is for, I'll break my staff,
Bury it certain fathoms in the earth,
And deeper than did ever plummet sound
I'll drown my book.


Translation(s): FRE

List of language codes

About the headline (FAQ)

Submitted by Emily Ezust [Administrator]

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, and transliterations (if applicable):


Text added to the website: 2008-12-10.
Last modified: 2014-06-16 10:03:01
Line count: 25
Word count: 200

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Vous, sylphes des collines, des...

Language: French (Français) after the English

Vous, sylphes des collines, des ruisseaux, des étangs et des halliers,
et vous qui, d’un pas sans empreinte, allez sur les plages
chassant Neptune, quand il retire, et le fuyant,
quand il revient ; vous, petits lutins, qui,
au clair de lune, faites dans la verdure ces cercles acres
où la brebis ne mord pas, vous dont le passe-temps
est de produire les champignons de minuit, et qui vous réjouissez
d’entendre le solennel couvre-feu ; vous à l’aide de qui,
tout faibles maîtres que vous êtes, j’ai obscurci
le soleil en plein midi, évoqué les vents mutins,
soulevé entre la verte mer et la voûte azurée
une guerre rugissante, mis le feu
au redoutable tonnerre qui gronde, et brisé le grand chêne de Jupiter
avec sa propre foudre : vous à l’aide de qui j’ai ébranlé
les promontoires aux fortes bases, arraché par les racines
le pin et le cèdre, et impérieusement obligé les tombeaux
à réveiller leurs dormeurs, à s’ouvrir et à les laisser aller,
de par mon art tout-puissant ; soyez témoins ! cette orageuse magie,
je l’abjure ici ! Je ne réclame plus de vous,
et c’est mon dernier ordre, qu’une musique céleste,
qui agisse à mon gré sur les sens de ceux
que je soumets à son charme aérien. Et puis je briserai ma baguette,
je l’ensevelirai à plusieurs brassées dans la terre,
et, à une profondeur que la sonde n’a jamais atteinte,
je noierai mon livre.


About the headline (FAQ)

Submitted by Guy Laffaille [Guest Editor]

Authorship


Based on

Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive)

    [ None yet in the database ]


Text added to the website: 2016-02-08.
Last modified: 2016-02-08 17:45:27
Line count: 25
Word count: 241