Algernon Charles Swinburne — April

                FROM THE FRENCH OF THE VIDAME DE CHARTRES                                                 12—? When the fields catch flower         And the underwood is green, And from bower unto bower         The songs of the birds begin,         I sing with sighing between. When I laugh and sing,         I am heavy at heart for my sin; I am sad in the spring         For my love that I shall not win, For a foolish thing. This profit I have of my woe,         That I know, as I sing, I know he will needs have it so         Who is master and king,         Who is lord of the spirit of spring. I will serve her and will not spare         Till her pity awake Who is good, who is pure, who is fair,         Even her for whose sake Love hath ta'en me and slain unaware. O my lord, O Love,         I have laid my life at thy feet; Have thy will thereof,         Do as it please thee with it,         For what shall please thee is sweet. I am come unto thee         To do thee service, O Love; Yet cannot I see         Thou wilt take any pity thereof, Any mercy on me. But the grace I have long time sought         Comes never in sight, If in her it abideth not,         Through thy mercy and might,         Whose heart is the world's delight. Thou hast sworn without fail I shall die,         For my heart is set On what hurts me, I wot not why,         But cannot forget What I love, what I sing for and sigh. She is worthy of praise,         For this grief of her giving is worth All the joy of my days         That lie between death's day and birth,         All the lordship of things upon earth. Nay, what have I said?         I would not be glad if I could; My dream and my dread         Are of her, and for her sake I would That my life were fled. Lo, sweet, if I durst not pray to you,         Then were I dead; If I sang not a little to say to you,         (Could it be said)         O my love, how my heart would be fed; Ah sweet who hast hold of my heart,         For thy love's sake I live, Do but tell me, ere either depart,         What a lover may give For a woman so fair as thou art. The lovers that disbelieve,         False rumours shall grieve And evil-speaking shall part.


Other Algernon Charles Swinburne songs:
all Algernon Charles Swinburne songs all songs from 1866