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Il m'est avis qu'il n'est dons de Natureballade by Guillaume de Machaut SourcesApt: Cathédrale Sainte-Anne, Bibliothèque du Chapitre, 16bis, fol. 14v (3/3); Apt14v\1, fol. 14v (3/3).Editions1. Le manuscrit de musique polyphonique du trésor d'Apt, edited by Amédée Gastoué, Paris: E. Droz, 1936. La société française de musicologie, series 1, vol. X.2. French Sacred Music, edited by Giulio Cattin and Francesco Facchin, Monaco: Editions de l'Oiseau Lyre, 1992: Polyphonic Music of the Fourteenth Century Vol XXIIIB, p. 356. Text EditionsGuillaume de Machaut: poésies lyriques, 2 vols., edited by V. Chichmaref, Paris: 1909, p. 170.Literature1. SCHMIDT, G. 'Zur Frage des Cantus firmus im 14. und beginnenden 15. Jahrhunderts', Archiv für Musikwissenschaft, XV (1958), p. 246.2. French Sacred Music, edited by Giulio Cattin and Francesco Facchin, Monaco: Editions de l'Oiseau Lyre, 1992: Polyphonic Music of the Fourteenth Century Vol. XXIIIIA TextIl m'est avis qu'il n'est dons de Nature.Com bons qu'il soit, que nulz prise a ce jour. Se la clarte tenebreuse et obscure De Fortune ne li donne coulour. Ja soit ce que seurte Ne soit en li, amour ne loyaute. Mais je ne voy homme ame ne chieri. Se Fortune ne le tient a ami. Si bien ne sont fors vent et aventure. Donne a faute et tolu par irour; On la doit croire ou elle se parjure. Car de mentir est sa plus grant honnour. C'est un monstre envolepe De boneur, plain de maleurte; Car nulz n'a pris, tant ait de bien en li. Se Fortune ne le tient a ami. Si me merveil comment Raisons endure Si longuement a durer ceste errour. Car les vertus sont a desconfiture Par les vices qui regnent com signour. Et qui wet avoir le gre De ceulz qui sont et estre en haut degre. Il pert son temps et puet bien dire: Ai mi. Se Fortune ne le tient a ami. TranslationIn my opinion there is no gift of Nature.However good, which anyone values at this time. But the dark and clouded brightness Of Fortune gives it colour. Although no security Is found in her, no love or loyalty. But I do not see any man loved or cherished If Fortune does not hold him for a friend. Her goods are only wind and chance. Given in fault and taken away in anger; One must believe her when she swears falsely. For in lying is her greatest honour. She is a monster enveloped In happiness, full of misfortune; For none is valued, however much good may be in him If Fortune does not hold him for a friend. So I marvel how Reason allows This error to endure so long. For the virtues are in disarray Through the vices who reign as lords. And whoever wishes to have the good will Of those who are in power and to be of high degree. He wastes his time and may well say: Ah me. If Fortune does not hold him for a friend. Text revision and translation © Jennifer Garnham |
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