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Retir'd from any mortal's sight

Language: English

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.


Translation(s): FRE

List of language codes

Submitted by Virginia Knight

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):

  • FRE French (Français) (Guy Laffaille) , title 1: "Loin de la vue de tout mortel", copyright © 2010, (re)printed on this website with kind permission


Text added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.

Last modified: 2014-06-16 10:01:51
Line count: 24
Word count: 137

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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.


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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.

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Based on
  • a text in English by Nahum Tate (1652 - 1715)
      • This text was set to music by the following composer(s): Henry Purcell. Go to the text.

 

Text added to the website: 2010-02-10.
Last modified: 2014-06-16 10:03:34
Line count: 24
Word count: 162