Chapter VII: JEAN PASSERAT, 1534–1602. Better known as a political satirist

than as a poet.

POETS OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY.

VICTOR HUGO.

ALFRED DE MUSSET, 1810–1857.

GÉRARD DE NERVAL, 1801–1855.

HENRI MURGER, 1822–1861.

BALLADS.

The originals of the French folk-songs here translated are to be found in the collections of MM. De Puymaigre and Gerard de Nerval, and in the report of M. Ampère.

The verses called a ‘Lady of High Degree’ are imitated from a very early _chanson_ in Bartsch’s collection.

The Greek ballads have been translated with the aid of the French versions by M. Fauriel.

SPRING.

CHARLES D’ORLEANS, 1391–1465.

The new-liveried year.—_Sir Henry Wotton_.

* * * * *

THE year has changed his mantle cold
Of wind, of rain, of bitter air;
And he goes clad in cloth of gold,
Of laughing suns and season fair;
No bird or beast of wood or wold
But doth with cry or song declare
The year lays down his mantle cold.
All founts, all rivers, seaward rolled,
The pleasant summer livery wear,
With silver studs on broidered vair;
The world puts off its raiment old,
The year lays down his mantle cold.

RONDEL.

CHARLES D’ORLEANS, 1391–1465.

To his Mistress, to succour his heart that is beleaguered by jealousy.

* * * * *

STRENGTHEN, my Love, this castle of my heart,
And with some store of pleasure give me aid,
For Jealousy, with all them of his part,
Strong siege about the weary tower has laid.
Nay, if to break his bands thou art afraid,
Too weak to make his cruel force depart,
Strengthen at least this castle of my heart,
And with some store of pleasure give me aid.
Nay, let not Jealousy, for all his art
Be master, and the tower in ruin laid,
That still, ah Love! thy gracious rule obeyed.
Advance, and give me succour of thy part;
Strengthen, my Love, this castle of my heart.

RONDEL.

FRANCOIS VILLON, 1460

GOODBYE! the tears are in my eyes;
Farewell, farewell, my prettiest;
Farewell, of women born the best;
Good-bye! the saddest of good-byes.
Farewell! with many vows and sighs
My sad heart leaves you to your rest;
Farewell! the tears are in my eyes;
Farewell! from you my miseries
Are more than now may be confessed,
And most by thee have I been blessed,
Yea, and for thee have wasted sighs;
Goodbye! the last of my goodbyes.

ARBOR AMORIS.

FRANCOIS VILLON, 1460