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Doux fut le trait qu'Amour hors de sa trousse Tira sur moi; doux fut l'acroissement Que je receu dès le commencement, Pris d'une fiebvre autant aigre que douce. Doux est son ris et sa voix qui me pousse L'esprit du corps plein de ravissement, Quand il lui plaist sur son Lut doucement Chanter mes vers animez de son pouce. Telle douceur sa voix fait distiler, Qu'on ne sçauroit, qui ne l'entend parler, Sentir en l'ame une joye nouvelle. Sans l'ouir, dis-je, Amour mesme enchanter, Doucement rire, et doucement chanter, Et moy mourir doucement auprès d'elle.
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Text Authorship:
- by Pierre de Ronsard (1524 - 1585), no title, written 1552, appears in L'amour de Cassandre , no. 38 [author's text checked 1 time 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 André Caplet (1879 - 1925), "Doux fut le trait", 1924, published 1924 [ high voice and piano or harp ], from Deux sonnets pour voix haute avec accompagnement de harpe, no. 2, Éd. Durand [sung text checked 1 time]
- by Alfredo Casella (1883 - 1947), "Sonnet", published 1924 [sung text checked 1 time]
- by Alexandre Jamar (b. 1995), "Sonnet de Ronsard", 2019, published 2020 [ tenor, cello, piano ] [sung text not yet checked]
Settings in other languages, adaptations, or excerpts:
- Also set in French (Français), [adaptation] ; composed by Anthoine de Bertrand.
Other available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):
- ENG English (David Wyatt) , "Sweet was the arrow which Love drew from his bag", copyright © 2012, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]
This text was added to the website: 2004-06-08
Line count: 14
Word count: 95
Sweet was the arrow which Love drew from his bag Against me; sweet was the increase I've received since love's beginning Gripped by a fever as bitter as it is sweet. Sweet is that smile and that voice which draws My soul from my body, full of delight When, self-accompanied softly on the lute, there is pleasure In singing my verses as the thumb strikes the strings. Such sweetness that voice distils That no-one who doesn't hear its singing would be able To feel that new joy in their soul. Without hearing, I say, Love himself enchanting us, Sweetly smiling and sweetly singing, And me sweetly dying beside her.
Text Authorship:
- Translation from French (Français) to English copyright © 2012 by David Wyatt, (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 French (Français) by Pierre de Ronsard (1524 - 1585), no title, written 1552, appears in L'amour de Cassandre , no. 38
This text was added to the website: 2012-06-06
Line count: 14
Word count: 109