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Title : The orange
flower Poet: Pierre Corneille (1606-1684)
Madrigal.
From the emerald palace where the rich nature made
Me be born and reign with majesty,
I come to adore the divine beauty of
which the sun is nothing but a weak painting.
If I do not have the brightness nor the bright colors
that make the pride of other flowers,
By my smells I am more accomplished,
And by my purity more worthy of Julie.
I am not subject to the fragile destiny
of these beautiful unfortunate women,
who die as soon as they are born,
And from whom they are appeased only last one morning;
My fate is happier, and the favourable sky
keeps my freshness and makes it more durable.
Thus, charming object, rare gift from heaven,
To deserve the honor of pleasing your beautiful eyes,
I have the pomp of my birth,
I am in good odor at all times, in all places;
My beauties have consistency,
And my pure whiteness marks my innocence.
So I dare to brag, by offering you my wishes,
to make you alone a rich crown,
Much more worthy of your hair
than the most beautiful flowers that Zephire gives you:
But, if you accuse me of too much ambition,
and of aspiring higher than I should,
condemn my presumption,
and treat me recklessly;
punish, I consent, my superb purpose
By a severe defense
To rise higher than to your womb;
and my punishment will be my reward.
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