Remy Belleau

Remy Belleau Poems

Remy Belleau Biography

The seventh star of the pleiade, he was educated at the famous College de Boncourt in Paris, where his mentors were the humananists Muret and buchanan. At school he performed in Jodelle's Cleopatra (1553. For his early Petites Inventions (1556) Ronsard called him the Peintre de la nature. These delicate poems portray a variety of creatures, abstract or real such as in The Hour, The shadow, The Butterly or The oyster. After an infatuation with military adventures in 1557, he retired to the forests of joinville to become a tutour for the family d'Elbeuf. Here he prepared his richly chaotic, bucolic masterpiece, La Bergerie (1565. A year before his death, he published Les Armours et Nouveaux Eschanges de Pierres precieuses, Vertus et Peopprietez d'icelles (1576), an occult treatise on the powers of minerals foreshadowing the Baroque imagery of the late Renaissance.)

The Best Poem Of Remy Belleau

April

April, pride of woodland ways,
Of glad days,
April, bringing hope of prime,
To the young flowers that beneath
Their bud sheath
Are guarded in their tender time;

April, pride of fields that be
Green and free,
That in fashion glad and gay,
Stud with flowers red and blue,
Every hue,
Their jewelled spring array;

April, pride of murmuring
Winds of spring,
That beneath the winnowed air,
Trap with subtle nets and sweet
Flora’s feet,
Flora’s feet, the fleet and fair;

April, by thy hand caressed,
From her breast
Nature scatters everywhere
Handfuls of all sweet perfumes,
Buds and blooms,
Making faint the earth and air.

April, joy of the green hours,
Clothes with flowers
Over all her locks of gold
My sweet Lady; and her breast
With the blest
Birds of summer manifold.

April, with thy gracious wiles,
Like the smiles,
Smiles of Venus; and thy breath
Like her breath, the Gods’ delight,
(From their height
They take the happy air beneath)

It is thou that, of thy grace,
From their place
In the far-oft isles dost bring
Swallows over earth and sea,
Glad to be
Messengers of thee, and Spring.

Daffodil and eglantine,
And woodbine,
Lily, violet, and rose
Plentiful in April fair,
To the air,
Their pretty petals do unclose.

Nightingales ye now may hear,
Piercing clear,
Singing in the deepest shade;
Many and many a babbled note
Chime and float,
Woodland music through the glade.

April, all to welcome thee,
Spring sets free
Ancient flames, and with low breath
Wakes the ashes grey and old
That the cold
Chilled within our hearts to death.

Thou beholdest in the warm
Hours, the swarm
Of the thievish bees, that flies
Evermore from bloom to bloom
For perfume,
Hid away in tiny thighs.

Her cool shadows May can boast,
Fruits almost
Ripe, and gifts of fertile dew,
Manna-sweet and honey-sweet,
That complete
Her flower garland fresh and new.

Nay, but I will give my praise,
To these days,
Named with the glad name of Her
That from out the foam o’ the sea
Came to be
Sudden light on earth and air.

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