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The day's grown old; the fainting sun Has but a little way to run, And yet his steeds, with all his skill, Scarce lug the chariot down the hill. The shadows now so long do grow, That brambles like tall cedars show; Mole hills seem mountains, and the ant Appears a monstrous elephant. A very little, little flock Shades thrice the ground that it would stock; Whilst the small stripling following them Appears a mighty Polypheme. And now on benches all are sat, In the cool air to sit and chat, Till Phoebus, dipping in the West, Shall lead the world the way to rest.
Authorship
- by Charles Cotton (1630 - 1687) [author's text not yet checked against a primary source]
Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive)
- by (Edward) Benjamin Britten (1913 - 1976), "Pastoral", op. 31 no. 1 (1943) [tenor, horn, and strings or piano], from Serenade for tenor, horn and strings, no. 1. [text verified 1 time]
Available translations, adaptations, and transliterations (if applicable):
- NYN Norwegian (Nynorsk) (Are Frode Søholt) , title 1: "Hyrdedikt", copyright © 2004, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
- FRE French (Français) (Jean-Pierre Granger) , title 1: "Pastorale", copyright © 2010, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
- SPA Spanish (Español) (Pablo Sabat) , title 1: "Pastoral"
Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]
Text added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Last modified: 2014-06-16 10:01:24
Line count: 16
Word count: 105
Le jour s'achève, le soleil couchant N'a plus qu'un court chemin à parcourir ; Et ses destriers, en dépit de leur savoir-faire, Tirent péniblement le char au bas de la pente. Les ombres s'étirent tellement que les ronces affichent la forme de grands cèdres ; Les taupinières ressemblent à des montagnes, et les fourmis, de monstrueux éléphants. Un petit troupeau, tout petit troupeau, Étend son ombre de trois fois sa taille, Alors que le jeune berger qui le mène, Prends des allures d'un majestueux Polyphème. Et maintenant tous sont assis sur des bancs, Et bavardent sous l'air frais Jusqu'à ce que Phébus, plongeant vers l'Ouest, Montre au monde le chemin du repos.
Authorship
- Translation from English to French (Français) copyright © 2010 by Jean-Pierre Granger, (re)printed on this website with kind permission. To reprint and distribute this author's work for concert programs, CD booklets, etc., you must ask the copyright-holder(s) directly for permission. If you receive no response, you must consider it a refusal.
Jean-Pierre Granger. Contact: trazom69 (AT) hotmail (DOT) com
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- a text in English by Charles Cotton (1630 - 1687)
Text added to the website: 2010-11-11 00:00:00
Last modified: 2014-06-16 10:04:07
Line count: 16
Word count: 112