Chaitivel : 無料・フリー素材/写真
Chaitivel / Giles Watson's poetry and prose
| ライセンス | クリエイティブ・コモンズ 表示-継承 2.1 |
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| 説明 | I have uploaded a short film of my song-adaptation (co-written with Judith Reid) of Marie de France's 'Chaitivel' here:www.youtube.com/watch?v=8fYOZpFLN9oIt is illustrated with this photograph of a misericord from Lincoln Cathedral, taken by my late great Uncle Alexander Watson, and also with several pictures of my own.It's a shame that it can't be directly uploaded to Flickr. It's also hard to disguise the impatience!CHAITIVELIn Brittany there dwelt a lady, beautiful, well bred,And many suitors tried and failed; many tears were shed,But four men loved her best of all - each longed with her to wed.Le Chaitivel, Le Chaitivel: love is like a tolling bell.She would not choose between the four; she loved them equally,And each one courted her in turn, each one on bended knee,And each of them would kiss her hand, unhappy sight to see.Le Chaitivel, Le Chaitivel: love is like a tolling bell.“Retaining one, I lose the others - that would break my heart;I cannot bear to let them go, thus to dwell apart,For sweet it is to hear them say, ‘O, like a jewel thou art!”Le Chaitivel, Le Chaitivel: love is like a tolling bell.It came to pass at Eastertide, a tournament was held,And all four knights gave challenges; none of them witheld,And many knights were killed that day, like saplings they were felled.Le Chaitivel, Le Chaitivel: love is like a tolling bell.At last the four knights stood alone, they jousted on and on,And each fought for his lady love, as graceful as a swan;They fought unsaddled with their swords until the sun was gone.Le Chaitivel, Le Chaitivel: love is like a tolling bell.By morning light three knights lay dead, the fourth was wracked with pain;A lance was sticking through his thigh, he floundered in the rain,“I fought and vanquished rivals three, but nothing shall I gain:Le Chaitivel, Le Chaitivel: love is like a tolling bell.”The best physicians in the land his wound came to attend,But nought would heal the gaping gash, nought the rupture mend.He lay in fever and it seemed he fast approached his end.Le Chaitivel, Le Chaitivel: love is like a tolling bell.His lady love sat by his side; she wept for all the dead,And grieved for her surviving love as he writhed in his bed.He opened then his bleeding lips, and huskily he said,“Le Chaitivel, Le Chaitivel: love is like a tolling bell.”“It tolls not for our wedding day, nor for my hour of dying;It tolls because I look at you, upon my bed a-lying,And never shall we married be, but end our days in sighing:Le Chaitivel, Le Chaitivel: love is like a tolling bell.”Source material: The Lais of Marie de France (12th Century). Words by Giles Watson. Music by Judith Reid. |
| 撮影日 | 2011-11-26 20:57:54 |
| 撮影者 | Giles Watson's poetry and prose , Oxfordshire, England |
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