Rémy Belleau: 'La Cornaline'

 

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.