by Anonymous / Unidentified Author
Le Dépit de la bergère
Language: French (Français)
De mon berger volage
J'entends le flageolet.
De ce nouvel hommage
Je ne suis plus l'objet ;
Je l'entends qui fredonne
Pour une autre que moi.
Hélas ! que j'étais bonne
De lui donner ma foi !
Autrefois l'infidèle
Faisait dire aux échos
Que j'étais la plus belle
Des filles du hameau ;
Que j'étais sa bergère,
Qu'il était mon berger ;
Que je serais légère
Sans qu'il devînt léger.
Un jour, c'était ma fête,
Il vint de grand matin ;
De fleurs ornant ma tête,
Il plaignait son destin.
Il dit : « Veux-tu, cruelle,
Jouir de mes tourments ? »
Je dis : « Sois-moi fidèle,
Et laisse faire au temps ! »
Le printemps qui vit naître
Des volages ardeurs
Les a vu disparaître
Aussitôt que les fleurs ;
Mais, s'il ramène à Flore
Les inconstants zéphirs,
Ne pourrait-il encore
Ramener ses désirs,
Ramener ses désirs ?
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 (Garrett Medlock) , "The chagrin of the shepherdess", copyright © 2019, (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: 33
Word count: 138
The chagrin of the shepherdess
Language: English after the French (Français)
From my fickle shepherd
I hear the flageolet.
Of this new tribute
I am no longer the object;
I hear it humming
For someone other than me.
Alas! how good I was
To give him my faith!
In the past the unfaithful one
Made to echo [out]
That I was the most beautiful
Of the girls in the hamlet;
That I was his shepherdess,
That he was my shepherd;
That I could be fickle
Without him becoming fickle.
One day it was my birthday,
He came early in the morning;
Flowers adorned my head,
He bemoaned his fate.
He said: “Would you like, cruel one,
To enjoy my torments?”
I said: “Be faithful to me,
And leave it to time!”
The spring that was born
Of fiery flights
Saw them disappear
As soon as the flowers;
But, if he gives back to Flore
The inconstant zephyrs,
Could he not still
Bring back his desires?
Text Authorship:
- Translation from French (Français) to English copyright © 2019 by Garrett Medlock, (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: 2019-01-08
Line count: 32
Word count: 154
