by
Charles Cotton (1630 - 1687)
Pastoral
Language: English
Our translations: CAT FRE NYN SPA
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.
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):
- by (Edward) Benjamin Britten (1913 - 1976), "Pastoral", op. 31 no. 1 (1943), published 1944, first performed 1943 [ tenor, horn, and strings or piano ], from Serenade for tenor, horn and strings, no. 1, London : Boosey & Hawkes [sung text checked 1 time]
Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):
- CAT Catalan (Català) (Salvador Pila) , "Pastoral", copyright © 2021, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
- FRE French (Français) (Jean-Pierre Granger) , "Pastorale", copyright © 2010, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
- NYN Norwegian (Nynorsk) (Are Frode Søholt) , "Hyrdedikt", copyright © 2004, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
- SPA Spanish (Español) (Pablo Sabat) , "Pastoral"
Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [
Administrator]
This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 16
Word count: 105
Pastorale
Language: French (Français)  after the English
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.
Text Authorship:
Based on:
This text was added to the website: 2010-11-11
Line count: 16
Word count: 110