Ronsard's Cassandra, was
Cassandra
Salviati, the daughter of an Italian banker.
Ronsard
Poetry in
Translation
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Pierre De Ronsard
Selected Poems
Pierre de Ronsard
'Pierre de Ronsard'
Michel Lasne (French, 1590 or before - 1667), The National Gallery of Art
Home Download
Translated by A. S. Kline (C) Copyright 2004 All Rights Reserved
This work may be freely reproduced, stored, and transmitted, electronically or otherwise, for any non-commercial purpose.
Contents
Translator's note:
Les Amours de Cassandre: XX
Les Amours de Cassandre: XXXVI
Les Amours de Cassandre: XLIII
Les Amours de Cassandre: XLIV
Les Amours de Cassandre: XCIV
Les Amours de Cassandre: CXXXV
Les Amours de Cassandre: CLII
Les Amours de Cassandre: CLX
Les Amours de Cassandre: CLXXII
Les Amours de Cassandre: CLXXIV
Les Amours de Cassandre: CXCII
Les Amours de Cassandre: CXCIII
Les Amours de Marie: VI
Les Amours de Marie: IX
Les Amours de Marie: XLIV
Sur La Mort de Marie: IV
Sonnets Pour Helene Book I: VI
Sonnets Pour Helene Book I: IX
Sonnets Pour Helene Book I: XIX
Sonnets Pour Helene Book I: L
Sonnets Pour Helene Book II: XLII
Sonnets Pour Helene Book II: XLIII
Sonnets Pour Helene Book II: XLIX
Les Odes: A Sa Maistresse
Les Odes: O Fontaine Bellerie
Les Odes: 'Pourquoy comme une jeune poutre'
Index of First Lines
Translator's note:
Most of the Classical references mentioned in the notes are well known, and easily found in Ovid's Metamorphoses.
Les Amours de Cassandre: XX
I'd like to turn the deepest of yellows,
Falling, drop by drop, in a golden shower,
Into her lap, my lovely Cassandra's,
As sleep is stealing over her brow.
Then I'd like to be a bull, white as snow,
Transforming myself, for carrying her,
In April, when, through meadows so tender,
A flower, through a thousand flowers, she goes.
I'd like then, the better to ease my pain,
To be Narcissus, and she a fountain,
Where I'd swim all night, at my pleasure:
And I'd like it, too, if Aurora would never
Light day again, or wake me ever,
So that this night could last forever.
Note: Jupiter, disguised as a shower of gold, raped Danae, and as a white bull carried off Europa. Narcissus fell in love with his own reflection. Aurora was the goddess of dawn. Ronsard's Cassandra, was Cassandra Salviati, the daughter of an Italian banker.
Les Amours de Cassandre: XXXVI
At the sorrow I'm made to feel by Love,
Phoebus you used to lament, like me,
When you sang, in exile, passionately,
Near Ilium on the banks of Xanthus.
You bewitched the rivers, flowers and woods,
With your lyre, in vain but beguilingly,
Yet not what your soul felt, the beauty
That dealt what was festering in your blood.
There you turned the flowers pale, with your hue,
There the streams filled with tears for you,
There you lived in hope, but all in vain.
Love grieves me for that same name, this hour,
Near Vendome, on the banks of Loir,
Like a Phoenix born again from my pain.
Ronsard's Cassandra, was Cassandra Salviati, the daughter of an Italian banker.
Les Amours de Cassandre: XXXVI
At the sorrow I'm made to feel by Love,
Phoebus you used to lament, like me,
When you sang, in exile, passionately,
Near Ilium on the banks of Xanthus.
You bewitched the rivers, flowers and woods,
With your lyre, in vain but beguilingly,
Yet not what your soul felt, the beauty
That dealt what was festering in your blood.
There you turned the flowers pale, with your hue,
There the streams filled with tears for you,
There you lived in hope, but all in vain.
Love grieves me for that same name, this hour,
Near Vendome, on the banks of Loir,
Like a Phoenix born again from my pain.
Note: Cassandra of Troy refused Phoebus Apollo's love. Ilium is Troy, and the Xanthus is one of its two rivers, the Scamander. The Loir is a tributary of the larger Loire, in the Vendomois. The Phoenix was the mythical bird that rose again from the ashes of its own immolation.
Les Amours de Cassandre: XLIII
Now fearfulness, and now hopefulness
Pitch camp in every part of my heart:
Neither, in war, can take the victor's part,
Equal in fortitude and forcefulness.
Now filled with confidence, now doubtfulness,
I promise deliverance to my captive heart,
Trying in vain to fool myself by art,
Between hope, and doubt, and fearfulness.
Shall I not see that hour before I die,
When I shall cull the flower of her springtime
Who makes my being languish in the dark?
Shall I not see myself clasped in her arms,
Breathless and exhausted by love's charms,
Die a sweet death in her embraces' arc?
Les Amours de Cassandre: XLIV
I'd like to be Ixion or Tantalus,
Fixed to the wheel or down there in the lake,
And press that beauty naked in my embrace,
That's equal to the angels' there above us.
If it could be so I'd make no fuss,
All fate's suffering would seem sweet today,
Not even if I'd to be a vulture's prey,
Nor he who must roll the boulder, Sisyphus.
To see or to touch the curve of her breast
Would lift my lover's fate above the rest,
Raising me on high like an Asian prince.
Translation
HOME NEWS ABOUT LINKS CONTACT SEARCH
Pierre De Ronsard
Selected Poems
Pierre de Ronsard
'Pierre de Ronsard'
Michel Lasne (French, 1590 or before - 1667), The National Gallery of Art
Home Download
Translated by A. S. Kline (C) Copyright 2004 All Rights Reserved
This work may be freely reproduced, stored, and transmitted, electronically or otherwise, for any non-commercial purpose.
Contents
Translator's note:
Les Amours de Cassandre: XX
Les Amours de Cassandre: XXXVI
Les Amours de Cassandre: XLIII
Les Amours de Cassandre: XLIV
Les Amours de Cassandre: XCIV
Les Amours de Cassandre: CXXXV
Les Amours de Cassandre: CLII
Les Amours de Cassandre: CLX
Les Amours de Cassandre: CLXXII
Les Amours de Cassandre: CLXXIV
Les Amours de Cassandre: CXCII
Les Amours de Cassandre: CXCIII
Les Amours de Marie: VI
Les Amours de Marie: IX
Les Amours de Marie: XLIV
Sur La Mort de Marie: IV
Sonnets Pour Helene Book I: VI
Sonnets Pour Helene Book I: IX
Sonnets Pour Helene Book I: XIX
Sonnets Pour Helene Book I: L
Sonnets Pour Helene Book II: XLII
Sonnets Pour Helene Book II: XLIII
Sonnets Pour Helene Book II: XLIX
Les Odes: A Sa Maistresse
Les Odes: O Fontaine Bellerie
Les Odes: 'Pourquoy comme une jeune poutre'
Index of First Lines
Translator's note:
Most of the Classical references mentioned in the notes are well known, and easily found in Ovid's Metamorphoses.
Les Amours de Cassandre: XX
I'd like to turn the deepest of yellows,
Falling, drop by drop, in a golden shower,
Into her lap, my lovely Cassandra's,
As sleep is stealing over her brow.
Then I'd like to be a bull, white as snow,
Transforming myself, for carrying her,
In April, when, through meadows so tender,
A flower, through a thousand flowers, she goes.
I'd like then, the better to ease my pain,
To be Narcissus, and she a fountain,
Where I'd swim all night, at my pleasure:
And I'd like it, too, if Aurora would never
Light day again, or wake me ever,
So that this night could last forever.
Note: Jupiter, disguised as a shower of gold, raped Danae, and as a white bull carried off Europa. Narcissus fell in love with his own reflection. Aurora was the goddess of dawn. Ronsard's Cassandra, was Cassandra Salviati, the daughter of an Italian banker.
Les Amours de Cassandre: XXXVI
At the sorrow I'm made to feel by Love,
Phoebus you used to lament, like me,
When you sang, in exile, passionately,
Near Ilium on the banks of Xanthus.
You bewitched the rivers, flowers and woods,
With your lyre, in vain but beguilingly,
Yet not what your soul felt, the beauty
That dealt what was festering in your blood.
There you turned the flowers pale, with your hue,
There the streams filled with tears for you,
There you lived in hope, but all in vain.
Love grieves me for that same name, this hour,
Near Vendome, on the banks of Loir,
Like a Phoenix born again from my pain.
Ronsard's Cassandra, was Cassandra Salviati, the daughter of an Italian banker.
Les Amours de Cassandre: XXXVI
At the sorrow I'm made to feel by Love,
Phoebus you used to lament, like me,
When you sang, in exile, passionately,
Near Ilium on the banks of Xanthus.
You bewitched the rivers, flowers and woods,
With your lyre, in vain but beguilingly,
Yet not what your soul felt, the beauty
That dealt what was festering in your blood.
There you turned the flowers pale, with your hue,
There the streams filled with tears for you,
There you lived in hope, but all in vain.
Love grieves me for that same name, this hour,
Near Vendome, on the banks of Loir,
Like a Phoenix born again from my pain.
Note: Cassandra of Troy refused Phoebus Apollo's love. Ilium is Troy, and the Xanthus is one of its two rivers, the Scamander. The Loir is a tributary of the larger Loire, in the Vendomois. The Phoenix was the mythical bird that rose again from the ashes of its own immolation.
Les Amours de Cassandre: XLIII
Now fearfulness, and now hopefulness
Pitch camp in every part of my heart:
Neither, in war, can take the victor's part,
Equal in fortitude and forcefulness.
Now filled with confidence, now doubtfulness,
I promise deliverance to my captive heart,
Trying in vain to fool myself by art,
Between hope, and doubt, and fearfulness.
Shall I not see that hour before I die,
When I shall cull the flower of her springtime
Who makes my being languish in the dark?
Shall I not see myself clasped in her arms,
Breathless and exhausted by love's charms,
Die a sweet death in her embraces' arc?
Les Amours de Cassandre: XLIV
I'd like to be Ixion or Tantalus,
Fixed to the wheel or down there in the lake,
And press that beauty naked in my embrace,
That's equal to the angels' there above us.
If it could be so I'd make no fuss,
All fate's suffering would seem sweet today,
Not even if I'd to be a vulture's prey,
Nor he who must roll the boulder, Sisyphus.
To see or to touch the curve of her breast
Would lift my lover's fate above the rest,
Raising me on high like an Asian prince.
