MIDI File [9' 19", 68Kb] |
NICHOLAS. | ||
Know ye all, both great and small, | ||
That, by lord Philip's fair command, | ||
This day within our city wall By summons we have bidden all |
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The fairest maidens in our land! | ||
Then note them well, for here they stand — | ||
Loyse, the fair, from St. Denis, | ||
And Isabeau from far Florennes, | ||
With Barbe who comes from Bovigny — | ||
To feast the eyes of greedy men; | ||
And Gabrielle, the chosen maid | ||
From that sweet city, St. Hubert, | ||
And Colinette from Lenalède, | ||
Who counts herself the fairest there; | ||
With many more who fain would own Yon budding wreath and silver zone. |
PHILIP. | |
Peace! Let us be on, or ere the day be flown Our budding roses shall be overblown. |
NICHOLAS. | |
Sir, by your leave! Sweet maid, I call on thee! |
LOYSE. | ||||
I am Loyse from St. Denis: | ||||
Fairest there beyond compare, | ||||
So men say. | ||||
CHORUS. | ||||
So men say! So men say! So men say! So men say! |
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LOYSE. | ||||
Yet their praise is naught to me, | ||||
If to-day Philip, Lord of Mirlemont, | ||||
Deems another maid more fair. | ||||
Thou alone canst tell me true, | ||||
Thou canst answer yea or nay, | ||||
Are mine eyes of that sweet blue | ||||
The rains of April grant to May? | ||||
Shines my hair like ripened wheat? Can it be my red lips meet |
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Like coral laid on ivory? | ||||
Aye, and that my little feet | ||||
Move so very daintily? | ||||
For this and more do all men say, Men who dwell at St. Denis, Else I might not dare to pray That to-day, to-day, |
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Beauty's crown should fall on me, Should fall on me. |
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CHORUS. | ||||
And what if it be true that her eyes are softest blue, | ||||
And her lips like winter berries shyly peeping through the snow, | ||||
That she wears a smaller shoe than some other maidens do? | ||||
Yet for all she is not fairest; therefore, prithee, let her go, | ||||
Let her go, Let her go, Let her go, Let her go, Let her go So prithee let her go. |
SAIDA. | |
Aye, let her go! We waste the sunny hours Seeking a rose amid these wind-sown flowers. |
PHILIP. | |
Rise, little maid, for one and one alone Shall win the wreath of roses and wear this silver zone. |
NICHOLAS. | |
Next, by your grace, in order as they go, I summon her men call proud Isabeau. |
ISABEAU. | ||||
In the hills beyond Florennes | ||||
Where the river grasses grow soft and green! | ||||
CHORUS. | ||||
Soft and green! | ||||
ISABEAU. | ||||
Once the shepherds from glen | ||||
Crowned me Queen! | ||||
And when I knelt beside the stream | ||||
And saw the face that floated there | ||||
With lips like cherries dipped in cream, | ||||
And laughing eyes, and raven hair, | ||||
I wondered not, those shepherd men Had crowned me fairest of Florennes. |
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CHORUS. | ||||
And in truth, if that be so, it is plain they do not grow | ||||
The fairest maids in Flanders where these simple shepherds | ||||
dwell. | ||||
Or perchance, for aught we know, it was very long ago, | ||||
When this maiden first discovered that she loved herself so well. | ||||
Or perchance, for aught we know, it was very long ago, | ||||
When this maiden first discovered that she loved herself so well. | ||||
SAIDA. | ||||
Nay, blame the guilty brook; 'twere hard to scold her For deeming true what this false stream had told her. |
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DEVIL. | ||||
Aye, yet henceforth each crone should warn her daughter; Truth lurks in wells, but lies in running water. |
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PHILIP. | ||||
Yea, many maids are fair, yet one is fairest. Enough for thee to win that shepherd's crown thou wearest. |
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NICHOLAS. | ||||
In truth, an ugly wench! Come hither, thou. |
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BARBE. | ||||
I am Barbe of Bovigny! Where all other maidens say, |
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The wonder why | ||||
CHORUS. | ||||
They wonder why! | ||||
BARBE. | ||||
Our swains should send me forth today, | ||||
That I may try, | ||||
Philip, Lord of Mirlemont! To win that crown from thee. | ||||
For though I think we err in this, | ||||
Yet 'tis the fashions of our town, | ||||
That she who wins a lover's kiss, | ||||
On her all other maidens frown | ||||
And say, as many there have said; "What tho' her hair be poppy red, |
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She need not smile from ear to ear," | ||||
Or cry, "alack, her beauty's fled, | ||||
He should have woo'd her yesteryear." | ||||
Yet while he kneels and sighs to me, | ||||
"Love, for thy beauty I could die!" |
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I may not win that crown from thee! | ||||
JACQUELINE and CHORUS. | ||||
As to that we would reply, as 'tis plain to ev'ry eye; | ||||
That these gossips do not blunder when they said her hair was | ||||
red! | ||||
And we fancy, bye and bye, she will weep and wonder why, | ||||
Men should choose to go a-wooing when they never think to | ||||
wed. | ||||
Think to wed, to wed! |
Page modified 8 October