Il m'est avis qu'il n'est dons de Nature
ballade by Guillaume de Machaut
Sources
Apt: Cathèdrale Sainte-Anne, Bibliothèque du Chapitre, 16bis, fol. 14v (3/3); Apt14v\1, fol. 14v (3/3).
Editions
1. Le manuscrit de musique polyphonique du trèsor d'Apt, edited by Amèdèe Gastouè, Paris: E. Droz, 1936. La sociètè 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 Editions
Guillaume de Machaut: poèsies lyriques, 2 vols., edited by V. Chichmaref, Paris: 1909, p. 170.
Literature
1. 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
Text
Il 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
Translation
In 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