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by Nahum Tate (1652 - 1715)
Translation © by Guy Laffaille

Retir'd from any mortal's sight
Language: English 
Our translations:  FRE
Retir'd from any Mortal's sight  
	 the pensive Damon lay,
He blest the discontented Night
	 And Curst the Smiling Day.
The tender sharers of his Pain,
	 His Flocks no longer Graze,
But sadly fixt around the Swain,
	 Like silent Mourners gaze.

He heard the Musick of the Wood,
	 And with a sigh Reply'd,
He saw the Fish sport in the Flood,
	 And wept a deeper Tyde.
In vain the Summers Bloom came on,
	 For still the Drooping Swain,
Like Autumn Winds was heard to Groan,
	 Out-wept the Winters Rain.

Some Ease (said he) some Respite give!
	 Why, might Pow'rs, Ah why
Am I too much distrest to Live,
	 And yet forbid to Dye?
Such Accents from the Shepherd flew
	 Whilst on the Ground He lay;
At last so deep a Sigh he drew,
	 As bore his Life away.

Text Authorship:

  • by Nahum Tate (1652 - 1715) [author's text not yet checked against a primary source]

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

  • by Henry Purcell (1658/9 - 1695), "Retir'd from any mortal's sight", Z. 581 no. 1, from stage composition The History of King Richard the Second, no. 1 [sung text checked 1 time]

Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):

  • FRE French (Français) (Guy Laffaille) , "Loin de la vue de tout mortel", copyright © 2010, (re)printed on this website with kind permission


Researcher for this page: Virginia Knight

This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 24
Word count: 137

Loin de la vue de tout mortel
Language: French (Français)  after the English 
Loin de la vue de tout mortel,
Le pensif Damon est allongé,
Il a béni la nuit mécontente
Et a maudit le jour souriant.
Celles qui partagent tendrement sa peine,
Ses brebis, ne paissent plus,
Mais regardent fixement et tristement le jeune berger,
Comme le cortège funèbre regarde en silence.

Il a entendu la musique du bois,
Et a répondu avec un soupir,
Il a vu le poisson folâtrer dans le flot,
Et a pleuré comme une grande marée.
En vain la fleur de l'été est arrivée,
Car encore le jeune berger abattu
On l'entendait gémir comme les vents d'automne,
Pleurer comme les pluies d'hiver.

Donnez-moi un peu de soulagement, (disait-il), un peu de répit !
Pourquoi, Tout-puissants , ah, pourquoi
Suis-je tellement affligé pour vivre
Et pourtant on m'interdit de mourir ?
De telles paroles s'envolaient du berger
Tandis que sur la terre il était allongé ;
À la fin il poussa un soupir si profond,
Que sa vie fut emportée.

Text Authorship:

  • Translation from English to French (Français) copyright © 2010 by Guy Laffaille, (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 English by Nahum Tate (1652 - 1715)
    • Go to the text page.

 

This text was added to the website: 2010-02-10
Line count: 24
Word count: 159

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This website began in 1995 as a personal project by Emily Ezust, who has been working on it full-time without a salary since 2008. Our research has never had any government or institutional funding, so if you found the information here useful, please consider making a donation. Your help is greatly appreciated!
–Emily Ezust, Founder

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