LiederNet logo

CONTENTS

×
  • Home | Introduction
  • Composers (20,102)
  • Text Authors (19,442)
  • Go to a Random Text
  • What’s New
  • A Small Tour
  • FAQ & Links
  • Donors
  • DONATE

UTILITIES

  • Search Everything
  • Search by Surname
  • Search by Title or First Line
  • Search by Year
  • Search by Collection

CREDITS

  • Emily Ezust
  • Contributors (1,114)
  • Contact Information
  • Bibliography

  • Copyright Statement
  • Privacy Policy

Follow us on Facebook

×

Attention! Some of this material is not in the public domain.

It is illegal to copy and distribute our copyright-protected material without permission. It is also illegal to reprint copyright texts or translations without the name of the author or translator.

To inquire about permissions and rates, contact Emily Ezust at licenses@email.lieder.example.net

If you wish to reprint translations, please make sure you include the names of the translators in your email. They are below each translation.

Note: You must use the copyright symbol © when you reprint copyright-protected material.

by Pierre de Ronsard (1524 - 1585)
Translation © by David Wyatt

Une jeune pucelette
Language: French (Français) 
Our translations:  ENG
Une jeune pucelette,
Pucelette grasselette,
Qu'esperdument j'aime mieux
Que mon cœur ny que mes yeux,
A la moitié de ma vie
Esperdument asservie
De son grasset en-bon-point ;
Mais fasché je ne suis point
D'estre serf pour l'amour d'elle,
Pour l'en-bon-point de la belle
Qu'esperdument j'aime mieux
Que mon cœur ny que mes yeux.

Las ! une autre pucelette,
Pucelette maigrelette,
Qu'esperdument j'aime mieux
Que mon cœur ny que mes yeux,
Esperdument a ravie
L'autre moitié de ma vie
De son maigret en-bon-point ;
Mais fasché je ne suis point
D'estre serf pour l'amour d'elle,
Pour la maigreur de la belle,
Qu'esperdument j'aime mieux
Que mon cœur ny que mes yeux.

Autant me plaist la grassette
Comme me plaist la maigrette,
Et l'une à son tour autant
Que l'autre me rend contant.

Je puisse mourir, grassette, 
Je puisse mourir, maigrette, 
Si le ne vous aime mieux 
Toutes deux que mes deux yeux, 
Ny qu'une jeune pucelle 
N'aime un nid de tourterelle, 
Ou son petit chien mignon, 
Du passereau compagnon, 
Petit chien qui point ne laisse 
De faire importune presse 
Au passereau, qui tousjours 
A pour fidele secours 
Le tendre sein de la belle, 
Quand le chien plume son aile, 
Ou de travers regardant, 
Aprés l'oiseau va grondant.

Et si je ments, grasselette,
Et si je ments, maigrelette,
Si je ments, Amour archer
Dans mon cœur puisse cacher
Ses fleches d'or barbelées,
Et dans vous les plombelées,
Si je ne vous aime mieux
Toutes deux que mes deux yeux.

Bien est-il vray, grasselette,
Bisn est-il vray, maigrelette,
Que l'appast trop doucereux
Des hameçons amoureux
Dont vous me sçavez attraire,
Est l'un à l'autre contraire.
L'une, d'un sein grasselet
Et d'un bel œil brunelet
Dans ses beautez tient ma vie
Esperdument asservie
Mais par dessus tout m'espoint
Un grasselet en-bon-point,
Une cuisse rebondie,
Une poitrine arrondie
En deux montelets bossus,
Où l'on dormiroit dessus
Comme entre cent fleurs decloses,
Ou dessus un lit de roses.
Puis avecques tout cela
Encor d'avantage elle a
Je ne sçay quelle feintise,
Ne sçay quelle mignotise,
Qui fait que je l'aime mieux
Que mon cœur ny que mes yeux.

L'autre maigre pucelette
A voir n'est pas si bellette :
Elle a les yeux verdelets
Et les tetins maigrelets;
Son flanc, sa cuisse, sa hanche
N'ont la charneure si blanche
Comme a l'autre, et si ondez
Ne sont ses cheveux blondez...

Mais en lieu de beautez telles, 
Elle en a d'autres plus belles : 
Un chant qui ravit mon cœur, 
Et qui dedans moy vainqueur 
Toutes mes veines attise ; 
Une douce mignotise, 
Un doux languir de ses yeux, 
Un doux souspir gracieux, 
Quand sa douce main manie 
La douceur d'une harmonie.

Nulle mieux qu'elle au danser 
Ne sçait ses pas devancer 
Ou retarder par mesure ; 
Nulle mieux ne me conjure
Par les traits de Cupidon,
Par son arc, par son brandon,
Si j'en aime une autre qu'elle ;
Et nulle mieux ne m'emmielle
La bouche, quand son baiser
Vient mes levres arroser,
Begayant d'un doux langage.
Que diray-je d'avantage?....
C'est pourquoy je l'aime mieux
Que mon cœur ny que mes yeux.

Jamais une ne me fasche
Pour ne la servir à tasche ;
Car quand je suis mi-lassé
Du premier plaisir passé,
Dés le jour je laisse celle
Qui m'a fasché dessus elle,
Et m'en vais prendre un petit
Avec l'autre d'appetit,
Afin qu'aprés la derniere
Je retourne à la premiere,
Pour n'estre recreu d'amours.
Aussi n'est-il bon tousjours
De gouster une viande;
Car tant soit-elle friande,
Sans quelquefois l'eschanger
On se fasche d'en manger.

Mais d'où vient cela, grassette,
Mais d'où vient cela, maigrette,
Que depuis deux ou trois mois
Je n'embrassay qu'une fois
(Encor ce fut à l'emblée,
Et d'une joye troublée)
Vostre estomac grasselet
Et vostre sein maigrelet?
A'-vous peur d'estre nommées
Pucelles mal renommées?....

Las ! mignardes, je sçay bien 
Qui vous empesche, et combien
Le seigneur de ce village
Vous souille de son langage,
Mesdisant de vostre nom
Qui plus que le sien est bon.

Ah ! à grand tort, grasselette,
Ah ! à grand tort, maigrelette,
Ah ! à grand tort cest ennuy
Me procede de celuy
Qui me deust servir de pere,
De sœur, de frere et de mere.

Mais luy, voyant que je suis 
Vostre cœur, et que je puis 
D'avantage entre les dames, 
Farcit vostre nom de blames, 
D'un mesdire trop amer, 
Pour vous engarder d'aimer 
Celuy qui gaillard vous aime 
Toutes deux plus que soy-mesme, 
Celuy qui vous aime mieux 
Toutes deux que ses deux yeux.

[Bien, bien, laissez-le mesdire! 
Deust-il tout vif crever d'ire 
Et forcené se manger, 
Il ne sçauroit estranger 
L'amitié que je vous porte, 
Tant elle est constante et forte.]1
Ny le temps ny son effort, 
Ny violence de mort, 
Ny les mutines injures, 
Ny les mesdisans parjures, 
Ny les outrageux brocars 
De vos voisins babillars, 
Ny la trop soigneuse garde 
D'une cousine bavarde, 
Ny le soupçon des passans, 
Ny les maris menaçans, 
Ny les audaces des freres, 
Ny les preschemens des meres,
Ny les oncles sourcilleux,
Ny les dangers périlleux
Qui l'amour peuvent deffaire,
N'auront puissance de faire
Que [tousjours]2 je n'aime mieux
Que mon cœur ny que mes yeux
L'une et l'autre pucelette,
Grasselette et maigrelette.

Available sung texts: (what is this?)

•   C. Saint-Saëns 

C. Saint-Saëns sets stanzas 1-3, 15

About the headline (FAQ)

View original text (without footnotes)
1 omitted by Saint-Saëns
2 Saint-Saëns: "jamais"

Text Authorship:

  • by Pierre de Ronsard (1524 - 1585), "Gayeté III", appears in Gayetez et Epigrammes, first published 1553 [author's text checked 1 time 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 Charles Camille Saint-Saëns (1835 - 1921), "Grasselette et maigrelette", 1920, stanzas 1-3,15, from Cinq poèmes de Ronsard, no. 4. [ sung text verified 1 time]

Available translations, adaptations, and transliterations (if applicable):

  • ENG English (David Wyatt) , title 1: "The plump lass and the slim lass", copyright © 2012, (re)printed on this website with kind permission


Researcher for this page: Ted Perry

This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 182
Word count: 856

The plump lass and the slim lass
Language: English  after the French (Français) 
A young girl,
A plump girl,
Whom I love utterly, more
Than my heart or my eyes,
With half of my life
Which has been utterly enslaved
By her fine plump form;
But I'm in no way upset
To be a slave for her love,
And for that beauty's fine form
Which I love utterly, more
Than my heart or my eyes.

Alas! Another girl,
A slim girl,
Whom I love utterly, more
Than my heart or my eyes,
Has utterly stolen
The other half of my life 
With her fine slim form;
But I'm in no way upset
To be a slave for her love,
And for that beauty's slim lines
Which I love utterly, more
Than my heart or my eyes.

The plump one pleases me as much
As does the slim one,
And each in her turn, as much
As the other leaves me satisfied.

May I die, my plump lass,
May I die, my slim lass,
If I don't love the two of you
More than my two eyes,
More than a young girl
Loves a dove's nest,
Or her darling little pup,
Companion to her sparrow;
The little pup who never stops
Crowding and bothering 
The sparrow, which still
Has a trusted haven
In the tender breast of the fair lady
When the pup pulls feathers from its wing;
Or [never stops] watching sidelong,
When the bird goes complaining.

And if I lie, my plump lass, 
And if I lie, my slim lass,
If I lie, Love the archer
Can bury in my heart
His barbed arrows of gold
And in you leaden ones
If I don't love the two of you
More than my two eyes.

It's very true, my plump lass,
It's very true, my slim lass,
That the too-sweet appeal
Of love's baits,
With which you've been able to lure me,
Is the opposite, one from the other.
For the one, with her plump breast
And lovely brown eyes,
Keeps my life by her beauties
Utterlyly enslaved;
But above all she hooks me with
Her fine plump form
Her bouncing thighs
Her rounded bosom
With its two little peaks
On which you could sleep
As if among a hundred blooming flowers
Or on a bed of roses.
Then with all that
She has as well
A way of feigning,
A kind of charm,
Which makes me love her more
Than my heart or my eyes.

The other slim lass
Is not so comely to look at:
She has fine green eyes
And tiny little breasts;
Her waist, her thighs, her hips
Don't have that white plumpness
Of the other, and her blonde hair
Does not flow in such waves...
But in place of such beauties
She has others more lovely:
Her singing delights my heart
And within me conquers 
And arouses the blood in my veins;
A sweet charm
A soft languor in her eyes
A soft and graceful sigh
When her soft hand strikes
A sweet harmonious chord.

None is better than her in the dance
At stepping forward
Or back exactly on the beat;
None is better at asking me
By the wounds of Cupid,
By his bow, by his fire brand,
If I love any other than her;
And none leaves so sweet a taste in
My mouth, when her kiss
Just brushes my lips,
Stammering its sweet language.
What else shall I say?
That's why I love her more
Than my heart or my eyes.

Never do I get too bored with one 
As not to serve her in my task;
For when I am half worn-out
With the first pleasure passed,
Towards day I leave her
Who has tired me on top of her,
And go off to have a little
Appetiser with the other
And after the second
I return to the first
Since I'm not exhausted by love.
Anyway, isn't it good always
To appreciate your meat?
For however delicate it is,
Without sometimes changing the menu
You get fed up of eating it.

But how does it come about, my plump lass,
But how does it come about, my slim lass,
That after two or three months
I could only kiss you just once --
And that was straight away
And with a troubled joy --
Your plump waist
And your slim bosom?
Are you afraid of being called
Girls with a bad reputation?...

Oh, you darling girls, I know
Who is holding you back, and how much
The curé of the village
Is tarnishing you with his language,
Slandering your name
Which is better than his own.

Ah, it's very wrong, my plump lass,
Ah, it's very wrong, my slim lass,
Ah, it's very wrong that this annoyance
Comes on me from him
Who should act as my father,
Sister, brother and mother.

But he, seeing that I am pursuing 
Your heart, and that I can manage
Still more women,
Stuffs1 your names with censure
And too-bitter slander
To protect you from loving
The lively lad who loves
The two of you more than himself,
He who loves the two of you
More than his two eyes.

Well, well: let him slander!
If it made him burst with anger
And frenziedly gnaw himself,
He still wouldn't be able to alienate
The love that I bear you,
So constant and strong it is.

Neither time nor his efforts,
Nor fatal violence,
Nor mischievous insults,
Nor untruthful slander,
Nor insulting jibes
From your chattering neighbours,
Nor the over-careful watch
Of that gossiping cousin,
Nor the suspicion of passers-by,
Nor threatening husbands,
Nor the boldness of brothers,
Nor the preaching of mothers,
Nor haughty uncles,
Nor perilous dangers
Which can tear love asunder -
These will have no power to stop me
From always loving more
Than my heart or my eyes
The one girl and the other,
The plump lass and the slim lass.

View original text (without footnotes)
1 Ronsard's choice of word carries overtones suggesting the priest is motivated by his own sexual desires for the girls.

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:

  • a text in French (Français) by Pierre de Ronsard (1524 - 1585), "Gayeté III", appears in Gayetez et Epigrammes, first published 1553
    • Go to the text page.

 

This text was added to the website: 2012-11-05
Line count: 182
Word count: 977

Gentle Reminder

This website began in 1995 as a personal project by Emily Ezust, who has been working on it full-time without a salary since 2008. Our research has never had any government or institutional funding, so if you found the information here useful, please consider making a donation. Your help is greatly appreciated!
–Emily Ezust, Founder

Donate

We use cookies for internal analytics and to earn much-needed advertising revenue. (Did you know you can help support us by turning off ad-blockers?) To learn more, see our Privacy Policy. To learn how to opt out of cookies, please visit this site.

I acknowledge the use of cookies

Contact
Copyright
Privacy

Copyright © 2025 The LiederNet Archive

Site redesign by Shawn Thuris