Songs of Old Canada/A la claire fontaine

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Songs of Old Canada
translated by William McLennan

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Montreal: Dawson Brothers, pages 2–7. See also the Notes on page 77 of this work.

3294231Songs of Old Canada — A la claire fontaineWilliam McLennan

A LA CLAIRE FONTAINE.

Ala claire fontaine M'en allant promener,J'ai trouvé l'eau si belle Que je m'y suis baigné. I' ya longtemps que je t'aime, Jamais je ne t'oublierai.

J'ai trouvé l'eau si belle Que je m'y suis baigné,Et c'est au pied d'un chêne Que je m'suis reposé.

Et c'est au pied d'un chêne Que je m'suis reposé:Sur la plus haute branche Le rossignol chantait.

Sur la plus haute branche Le rossignol chantait;Chante rossignol, chante, Toi qui as le cœur gai.

Chante rossignol, chante, Toi qui as le cœur gai;Tu as le coeur à rire, Moi je l'ai-t-à pleurer.

Tu as le coeur à rire, Moi je l'ai-t-à pleurer;J'ai perdu ma maîtresse Sans pouvoir la trouver.

J'ai perdu ma maîtresse Sans pouvoir la trouver;Pour un bouquet de roses Que je lui refusai.

Pour un bouquet de roses Que je lui refusai;Je voudrais que la rose Fût encore au rosier.

Je voudrais que la rose Fût encore au rosier,Et que le rosier même Fût dans la mer jeté. I' ya longtemps que je t'aime, Jamais je ne t'oublierai.

A LA CLAIRE FONTAINE.

Down to the crystal streamlet I strayed at close of day;Into its limpid waters, I plunged without delay. I've loved thee long and dearly, I'll love thee, Sweet, for aye.

Into its limpid waters, I plunged without delay;Then mid the flowers springing At the oak-tree's foot I lay.

Then mid the flowers springing At the oak-tree's foot I lay;Sweet the nightingale was singing, High on the topmost spray.

Sweet the nightingale was singing, High on the topmost spray;Sweet bird! keep ever ringing Thy song with heart so gay.

Sweet bird! keep ever ringing Thy song with heart so gay;Thy heart was made for laughter, My heart's in tears to-day.

Thy heart was made for laughter, My heart's in tears to-day;Tears for a fickle mistress, Flown from its love away.

In tears for a fickle mistress, Flown from its love away,All for these faded roses Which I refused in play.

All for these faded roses Which I refused in play—Would that each rose were growing Still on the rose tree gay!

Would that each rose were growing Still on the rose tree gay,And that the fatal rose tree Deep in the ocean lay! I've loved thee long and dearly, I'll love thee, Sweet, for aye.