by Charles, Duc d'Orléans (1394 - 1465)
Translation by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807 - 1882)

Bien moustrez, Printemps gracieux
Language: French (Français) 
Bien moustrez, Printemps gracieux,
De quel mestier savez servir,
Car Yver fait cueurs ennuieux,
Et vous les faictes resjouir.
Si tost comme il vous voit venir,
Lui et sa meschant retenue
Sont contrains et prestz de fuir
A vostre joyeuse venue.

Yver fait champs et arbres vieulx,
Leurs barbes de neige blanchir,
Et est si froit, ort et pluieux
Qu'emprés le feu couvient croupir ;
On ne peut hors des huis yssir
Comme un oisel qui est en mue.
Mais vous faittes tout rajeunir
A vostre joyeuse venue.

Yver fait le souleil es cieulx
Du mantel des nues couvrir ;
Or maintenant, loué soit Dieux,
Vous estes venu esclersir
Toutes choses et embellir.
Yver a sa peine perdue,
Car l'an nouvel l'a fait bannir
A vostre joyeuse venue.

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):

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  • Also set in English, a translation by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807 - 1882) , "Spring", appears in Voices of the Night, first published 1839 ; composed by Anonymous/Unidentified Artist, Francesco Berger, Bernard Farebrother, Joseph Holbrooke, Henry Lahee, Arthur William Marchant, Francis Romer.

Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]

This text was added to the website: 2008-06-23
Line count: 24
Word count: 126

Gentle Spring! in sunshine clad
Language: English  after the French (Français) 
Gentle Spring! in sunshine clad,
Well dost thou thy power display!
For Winter maketh the light heart sad,
And thou, thou makest the sad heart gay.
He sees thee, and calls to his gloomy train,
The sleet, and the snow, and the wind, and the rain;
And they shrink away, and they flee in fear,
When thy merry step draws near.

Winter giveth the fields and the trees, so old,
Their beards of icicles and snow;
And the rain, it raineth so fast and cold,
We must cower over the embers low;
And, snugly housed from the wind and weather,
Mope like birds that are changing feather.
But the storm retires, and the sky grows clear,
When thy merry step draws near.

Winter maketh the sun in the gloomy sky
Wrap him round with a mantle of cloud;
But, Heaven be praised, thy step is nigh;
Thou tearest away the mournful shroud,
And the earth looks bright, and Winter surly,
Who has toiled for naught both late and early,
Is banished afar by the new-born year,
When thy merry step draws near.

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Text Authorship:

Based on:

Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive):


Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]

This text was added to the website: 2008-06-23
Line count: 24
Word count: 182