Je puis trop bien ma dame comparer
Language: French (Français)
Je puis trop bien ma dame comparer
A l'image que fist Pymalion.
D'ivoire fu estoit, tant belle et si sans per
Que plus l'ama que Medée Jason.
Li fols toudis la prioit,
Mais l'image riens ne li respondoit.
Einsi me fait celle qui mon cuer font,
Qu'adès la pri et riens ne me respont.
Pimalions qui moroit pour amer
Pria ses dieus par tele affection
Que la froideur de l'image tourner
Vit en chalour et sa dure fasson
Amolir, car vie avoit
Et char humeinne et doucement parloit.
Mais ma dame de ce trop m'i confont
Qu'adès la pri et riens ne me respont.
Or vueille Amours le dur en dous muer
De celle a qui j'ay fait de mong cuer don,
Et son [franc]1 cuer de m'amour aviver,
Si que de li puisse avoir guerredon.
Mais Amours en li conjoit
En fier desdaing, et le grand desir voit
Qui m'ocira; si croy que cil troiz font
Qu'adès la pri et riens ne me respont.
View original text (without footnotes)
1 in some editions, "froit"
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):
- ENG English (David Wyatt) , title 1: "I can too well compare my Lady", copyright © 2015, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [
Administrator]
This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 24
Word count: 165
I can too well compare my Lady
Language: English  after the French (Français)
I can too well compare my Lady
To that statue which Pygmalion made;
It was of ivory, so beautiful and so peerless
That he loved it more than Jason Medea [or, Medea Jason?].
The foolish man prayed to it all the time,
But the statue responded not at all.
So she does to me, that lady who melts my heart,
So that I pray to her always and she responds not at all.
Pygmalion who would have died for love
Prayed to his gods with such feeling
That he saw the cold of the statue changed
Into warmth and its hard form
Softened, for it had life
And human flesh and spoke softly.
But my lady completely confounds me in this,
So that I pray to her always and she responds not at all.
Now, may Love choose to change her hardness to softness
Whom I have made the gift of my heart,
And to bring her [noble]1 heart to life with my love,
So that I may have my reward from her.
But Love joins with her
In proud disdain, and sees the great desire
Which will kill me; so I believe that these three act
So that I pray to her always and she responds not at all.
View original text (without footnotes)
1 in some editions, "cold"
Text Authorship:
- Translation from French (Français) to English copyright © 2015 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:
This text was added to the website: 2015-01-13
Line count: 24
Word count: 210