by
Émilien Pacini (1810 - 1898)
Jane Gray
Language: French (Français)
La pourpre et l'or ont voilé tes attraits;
Enfant pour toi plus de naïve joie;
Le trône est là qui réclame sa proie;
Tes dix-sept ans sont fanés pour jamais.
La Tour noircie attend la souveraine;
Dans ses vieux murs va, comme tes aïeux,
Passer en paix ton premier jour de reine.
Peut-être, hélas! ton dernier jour heureux!
Pourquoi quitter le paisible séjour
Où tu coulais se doucement ta vie;
Tu viens braver le vourroux de Marie;
Ton faible bras porte un sceptre d'un jour;
Sous ce bandeau qui ceint ta jeune tête
La mort te cache une sanglante main
Tremble à l'aspect d'un peuple qui te fête;
Reine aujourd'hui, que seras-tu demain?
C'est fait de toi! la pierre du tombeau
Est sur tes pas à jamais refermée;
Femme si belle, aux doux yeux, tant aimée,
A Dieu ton âme, et ta tête au bourreau.
Le canon gronde, un convoi populaire
Pousse au gibet ton époux malheureux;
La hache attend, Reine baise la terre.
Rejoins Guilford, il monte dans les cieux.
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 or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):
- ENG English (Faith J. Cormier) , "Jane Gray", copyright © 2002, (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: 171
Jane Gray
Language: English after the French (Français)
Purple and gold have veiled your beauty.
Child, no more innocent joy for you.
The throne wants it prey,
and your 17 years are forever faded.
The blackened Tower awaits the sovereign.
Enter its ancient walls, like your ancestors,
and spend in peace your first day as Queen.
Alas, 'tis perhaps your last day of happiness!
Why leave the peaceful shelter
where your life passed so gently
to brave Mary's wrath?
Your weak arm carries a scepter for a day.
Under the band around your young head,
Death hides a bloody hand.
Tremble at the sight of a people who celebrate you.
Queen today, what will you be tomorrow?
You're done for! The tombstone
is closed forever behind you.
Such a beautiful, sweet-eyed, beloved woman.
God rest your soul, as the executioner takes your head.
The cannon growls. A press of people
thrusts your unfortunate husband to the scaffold.
The axe awaits you, oh Queen. Kiss the ground
and join Guilford on his way to Heaven.
Text Authorship:
- Translation from French (Français) to English copyright © 2002 by Faith J. Cormier, (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 between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 24
Word count: 167