LA CORNALINE
Ce petit archerot Amour
Bavolant s’esgayoit un jour
Dedans les vergers de Cythères,
L’arc au point fait d’yvoire blanc,
En escharpe la trousse au flanc
Grosse de cent flèches légères.
Mais (malheur) volant dans ce parc
De branche en branche, de son arc
Rompt le bout, et perd l’encornure,
Dépité retranche le cours
De son aile et, sans le secours
De sa mère, il mouroit à l’heure.
Humaine, qui pour l’appaiser,
L’ayant caressé d’un baiser
De sa bouchete couraline,
Luy donne en ce nouveau courrous,
Pour soudain encorner les bouts
De son arc, une Cornaline.
Qui depuis ha tousjours cet heur
D’assopir et fondre l’aigreur
De l’homme eschaufé de colère,
En mémoire que cet enfant
Appaisé se veit trionfant
Du malheur, par l’heur de sa mère.
Ceste pierre, en poudre, des dens
Tire la roüille, de nos ans
Marque véritable et non vaine;
Estanche les coulans ruisseaux
Du sang qui roule des naseaux
Ou des rameaux d’une autre veine.
Elle est d’incarnate couleur,
Languissant d’un peu de palleur;
La vraye et la naïfve est celle
Qui sans nuage se fait voir,
Pure et nette, sans rien avoir
Qui ternisse sa face belle.
THE CORNALINE
Young Cupid, archer of great fame,
For sport one day was taking aim
In orchards of Cythera’s isle,
Of ivory his bow was made,
His quiver at his side down-weighed
With arrows for his acts of guile.
Alas!, while he is flying low
From branch to branch, his horn-tipped bow
Gets damaged where its string is tied.
Vexed, this distracts him from his flight –
Had not his mother seen his plight
And aided him, he would have died.
She in the bud his anger nips
With gentle kisses on his lips
That are so coraline in hue.
So he his horn-tipped bow can mend
Immediately, with due care,
A cornaline to him extends.
Since when this most propitious stone
Can cool the heat of those most prone
To anger, or with ire aflame;
In memory of that brash child
Who through his mother’s gift grew mild
And his misfortune overcame.
This stone can, when in powdered form,
Cleanse yellow teeth when old and worn,
A true gift, and by no means vain;
It staunches blood that freely flows,
Or even gushes from the nose,
Or from some nicked or damaged vein.
Its colour is a crimson red
Though slightly paler it is said;
Considered beautiful and fine
Are those not cloudy but quite clear,
Untainted by the slightest smear
That tarnishes their surface shine.
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