by
Robert Burns (1759 - 1796)
Deil tak' the wars
Language: Scottish (Scots)
Sleep'st thou, or wak'st thou, fairest creature ?
Rosy morn now lifts his eye,
Numbering ev'ry bud which Nature
Waters wi' the tears of joy.
Now, to the streaming fountain,
Or up the heathy mountain,
The hart, hind, and roe, freely, wildly-wanton stray ;
In twining hazel bowers
His lay the linnet pours;
The lavrock, to the sky
Ascends wi' sangs o' joy;
While the sun and thou arise to bless the day !
Phoebus, gilding the brow of the morning,
Banishes ilk darksome shade,
Nature gladdening and adorning :
Such to me my lovely maid !
When frae my [Chloris]1 parted,
Sad, cheerless, broken-hearted,
Then night's gloomy shades, cloudy, dark, o'ercast my sky;
But when she charms my sight
In pride of beauty's light;
When through my very heart
Her beaming glories dart;
'Tis then -- 'tis then, I wake to life and joy!
Available sung texts: (what is this?)
• J. Haydn View original text (without footnotes)
Confirmed with
The Complete Poetical Works of Robert Burns, Cambridge edition, Boston and New York, Houghton Mifflin Company, 1897, page 297.
Alternative title: "Deil tak' the wars"
1 Haydn: "Jeany"
Glossary
Lavrock = lark
Ilk = each, every.
Text 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) (Pierre Mathé) , title 1: "Dors-tu ?", copyright © 2014, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
Researcher for this page: Ferdinando Albeggiani
This text was added to the website: 2009-07-14
Line count: 24
Word count: 140
Dors‑tu ?
Language: French (Français) after the Scottish (Scots)
Dors-tu ou veilles-tu, toi la plus belle des créatures ?
Matin rose ouvre maintenant l'œil,
Comptant chaque bourgeon que Nature
Arrose de larmes de joie.
Maintenant, à la source qui ruisselle
Ou sur la lande de la montagne,
Le cerf, la biche, le chevreuil s'égaillent gaiement ;
Dans les buissons tortueux de noisetiers
La linotte pousse sa chanson ;
L'alouette dans le ciel
S'élève avec des chants de joie ;
Tandis que le soleil et toi vous levez pour saluer le jour !
Phoebus, couvrant d'or le front du matin,
Bannit toute ombre ténébreuse,
Réjouissant et embellissant Nature,
Comme tu le fais pour moi, ma charmante fille !
Lorsque je suis loin de ma Chloris,
Triste, démoralisé, le cœur brisé,
Les ombres lugubres de la nuit, obscures, noires couvrent mon ciel,
Mais lorsqu'elle charme mes regards,
Dans la splendide lumière de sa Beauté,
Lorsque jusqu'au fond de mon cœur
Pénètre sa rayonnante magnificence,
Alors, alors, je m'éveille à la vie et à la joie !
Text 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), "Deil tak' the wars"
This text was added to the website: 2014-08-05
Line count: 24
Word count: 158
