by
Pierre de Ronsard (1524 - 1585)
Ô Fontaine Bellerie
Language: French (Français)
Ô Fontaine Bellerie,
Belle fontaine chérie
De nos Nymphes, quand ton eau
Les cache au creux de ta source,
Fuyantes le Satyreau,
Qui les pourchasse à la course
Jusqu'au bord de ton ruisseau,
Tu es la Nymphe éternelle
De ma terre paternelle :
Pource en ce pré verdelet
Vois ton Poète qui t'orne
D'un petit chevreau de lait,
A qui l'une et l'autre corne
Sortent du front nouvelet.
L'Été je dors ou repose
Sur ton herbe, où je compose,
Caché sous tes saules verts,
Je ne sais quoi, qui ta gloire
Enverra par l'univers,
Commandant à la Mémoire
Que tu vives par mes vers.
L'ardeur de la Canicule
Ton vert rivage ne brûle,
Tellement qu'en toutes parts
Ton ombre est épaisse et drue
Aux pasteurs venant des parcs,
Aux bœufs las de la charrue,
Et au bestial épars.
Iô ! tu seras sans cesse
Des fontaines la princesse,
Moi célébrant le conduit
Du rocher percé, qui darde
Avec un enroué bruit
L'eau de ta source jasarde
Qui trépillante se suit.
About the headline (FAQ)
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):
Set in a modified version by Jean Chatillon, William Hawley.
Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):
- ENG English (David Wyatt) , copyright © 2012, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [
Administrator]
This text was added to the website: 2010-10-28
Line count: 35
Word count: 168
O fountain Bellerie
Language: English after the French (Français)
O fountain Bellerie1
Fountain fair and dear
Of our nymphs, when your water
Hides them in the hollow of your spring
As they flee from the Satyr
Who pursues them in the hunt
Right to the edge of your stream,
You are the eternal nymph
Of my homeland
And so in this verdant meadow
Look on your poet who honours you
With a small suckling kid
With its two young horns
Newly sprung from its forehead.
In summer I sleep or lie down
On your bank, where I compose,
Hidden under your willows, some
Sort of verse to announce
Your glory throughout the universe,
Lodging it in memory
So that you will always live through my verse.
The heat of the dog-days
Burns not your green banks
Since in every part
You provide shade deep and dense
For the shepherds coming from the fields,
For the oxen freed from the plough,
And for our scattered livestock.
Lo, you will be unendingly
Princess of fountains
As I celebrate the spring
In the pierced rock, from which gush forth
With a hoarse sound
The chattering waters of your fount
Which splashing chase one another.
About the headline (FAQ)
View original text (without footnotes)
1 "of the lovely smile" perhaps
Text Authorship:
- Translation from French (Français) to English copyright © 2012 by David Wyatt, (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.
Contact: licenses@email.lieder.example.net
Based on:
This text was added to the website: 2012-06-23
Line count: 35
Word count: 193