by William Butler Yeats (1865 - 1939)
Translation © by Pierre Mathé

The host is riding from Knocknarea
Language: English 
Available translation(s): FRE
The host is riding from Knocknarea
And over the grave of Clooth-na-bare;
Caolte tossing his burning hair
And Niamh calling Away, come away:
Empty your heart of its mortal dream.
The winds awaken, the leaves whirl round,
Our cheeks are pale, our hair is unbound,
Our breasts are heaving, our eyes are a-gleam,
Our arms are waving, our lips are apart;
And if any gaze on our rushing band,
We come between him and the deed of his hand,
We come between him and the hope of his heart.
The host is rushing 'twixt night and day,
And where is there hope or deed as fair?
Caolte tossing his burning hair,
And Niamh calling Away, come away.

About the headline (FAQ)

First published in National Observer, October 1893, revised 1893 and 1899, titled "The faery host" and later "The hosting of the Sidhe"

Confirmed with W. B. Yeats, Later Poems, Macmillan and Co., London, 1926, page 3.


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) , copyright © 2016, (re)printed on this website with kind permission


Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]

This text was added to the website: 2008-09-07
Line count: 16
Word count: 117

L'armée chevauche depuis Knocknarea
Language: French (Français)  after the English 
L'armée chevauche depuis Knocknarea
Et jusqu'au tombeau de Clooth-na-bare;
Caolte secouant sa chevelure de feu
Et Niamh exhortant: « Allez, allez :
Videz vos cœurs de leurs rêves mortels.
Le vent se réveille, les feuilles tourbillonnent,
Nos joues sont pâles, nos cheveux défaits,
Nos poitrines gonflées, nos yeux brillants,
Nos bras brandis, nos lèvres ouvertes;
Et si quelqu'un regarde la course de notre bande,
Mettons-nous  entre lui et l'acte de sa main,
Mettons-nous entre lui et l'espoir de son cœur.»
L'armée fonce jour et nuit,
Et où trouver espoir ou acte aussi juste?
Caolte secouant sa chevelure de feu
Et Niamh exhortant :« Allez, allez. »

About the headline (FAQ)

Translation of title "The hosting of the Sidhe" = "L'invitation du Sidhe"

Authorship

  • Translation from English to French (Français) copyright © 2016 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.
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Based on

 

This text was added to the website: 2016-01-04
Line count: 16
Word count: 106