by
Thomas Moore (1779 - 1852)
She is far from the land where her young...
Language: English
Available translation(s): FRE
She is far from the land where her young hero sleeps,
And lovers are round her, sighing,
But coldly she turns from their gaze and weeps,
For her heart in his grave is lying.
She sings the wild song of her dear native plains,
Every note which he lov'd awaking;
Ah! Little they think who delight in her strains,
How the heart of the Minstrel is breaking.
He had lived for his love, for his country he died,
They were all that to life had entwin'd him;
Nor soon shall the tears of his country be dried,
Nor long will his love stay behind him.
Oh! make her a grave where the sunbeams rest,
When they promise a glorious morrow,
They'll shine o'er her sleep like a smile from the West,
From her own lov'd island of sorrow.
G. Bachlund sets stanzas 1, 3-4
About the headline (FAQ)
View text with all available footnotes
Authorship:
Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive):
Settings in other languages, adaptations, or excerpts:
- Also set in German (Deutsch), a translation by Anonymous/Unidentified Artist ; composed by Wilhelm Hill.
Other available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):
- FRE French (Français) (Pierre Mathé) , "Elle est loin du pays où dort son jeune héros", copyright © 2014, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
Researcher for this page: Ted Perry
This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 16
Word count: 138
Elle est loin du pays où dort son jeune héros
Language: French (Français)  after the English
Elle est loin du pays où dort son jeune héros,
Et les amoureux soupirent autour d'elle.
Mais elle se détourne froidement de leurs regards et pleure,
Car son cœur repose dans son tombeau.
Elle chante le chant indomptable de ses chères plaines natales,
Réveillant chacune des notes qu'il aimait ;
Ah ! Peu d'entre ceux que charment ses accords
Savent combien le cœur de la chanteuse se brise.
Il avait vécu pour son amour, pour son pays il mourut,
Ils étaient tout ce qui l'avait attaché à la vie ;
Ce n'est pas de sitôt que les larmes de sont pays seront sèches,
Ce n'est pas très longtemps que sa bien-aimée lui survivra.
Oh ! Faites-lui une tombe où se posent les rayons du soleil
Lorsqu'ils promettent un glorieux lendemain,
Ils l'éclaireront dans son sommeil, comme un sourire de l'ouest,
De sa chère île de chagrins.
View text with all available footnotes
G. Bachlund a mis en musique les strophes 1, 3-4
Authorship:
- Translation from English 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:
This text was added to the website: 2014-04-18
Line count: 16
Word count: 146