[John Isbell]

Hi Julie,

I'm no expert on Ronsard, but your mention of Ronsard's commissioned poem in praise of Marie got me thinking of my favorite sonnet of his, which I like not least because it passed from being a touchstone for authenticity, for the C19th, to being a great example in the C20th of commissioned sentiment. Is it this Marie sonnet you were referring to?

"Comme on voit sur la branche

Comme on voit sur la branche au mois de mai la rose,
En sa belle jeunesse, en sa première fleur,
Rendre le ciel jaloux de sa vive couleur,
Quand l’Aube de ses pleurs au point du jour l’arrose;

La grâce dans sa feuille, et l’amour se repose,
Embaumant les jardins et les arbres d’odeur;
Mais battue, ou de pluie, ou d’excessive ardeur,
Languissante elle meurt, feuille à feuille déclose.

Ainsi en ta première et jeune nouveauté,
Quand la terre et le ciel honoraient ta beauté,
La Parque t’a tuée, et cendres tu reposes.

Pour obsèques reçois mes larmes et mes pleurs,
Ce vase plein de lait, ce panier plein de fleurs,
Afin que vif et mort, ton corps ne soit que roses."

Pierre de Ronsard, Amours, 1560

I have a random online translation to hand:

"On The Death of Marie

Just as one sees, on its stem in the month of May, the rose
In its lovely youth, in its first flower
Render the sky jealous of its vivid colour,
As at dawn Aurora moistens it with dew:
Grace and love within its petals repose,
Suffusing the gardens and the trees with fragrance:
Yet, battered by rain, or excessive heat of the sun,
Languishing, it dies, petal by petal unfolding:
Thus, in your first youth and freshness,
When the earth and the heavens honour your beauty
The Fates have borne you away, and in ashes you repose,
For obsequy accept my tears and weeping,
This vase filled with milk, this basket full of flowers,
That in life, and death, your body may never be without roses."

(English translation by William Hawley). NB this is pretty literal, but honoraient for some reason is rendered honour not honoured.

Oh - it seems worth noting here that these two Ronsard sonnets were learned by heart by generations of French schoolchildren, all across France. Make of it what you will, folks!