The other day you met me on the stairs. You chanced
to turn to me, and look, and by that single look
I was so dazzled that my very being shook
to find itself regarded. You had merely glanced
and yet you pierced my heart, you fired my blood (the way
a lightning bolt splits rain clouds in a summer sky)
with sweating, freezing fever, so I feared to die
of injuries your searing look had dealt that day:
and would have, but a gesture of your lovely hand
kept me alive; its movement said, ‘I understand.
I’m Helen, Leda’s daughter, fathered by a Swan.’
Without that swan-sign, to the shades I would have gone.
The victory your eyes inflicted was complete;
your white hand joyfully revived me in defeat.
L’autre jour que j’estois sur le haut d’un degré — Ronsard
L’autre jour que j’estois sur le haut d’un degré,
Passant tu m’advisas, et me tournant la veue,
Tu m’esblouïs les yeux, tant j’avois l’ame esmeue
De me voir en sursaut de tes yeux rencontré.
Ton regard dans le cœur, dans le sang m’est entré
Comme un esclat de foudre alors qu’il fend la nue:
J’euz de froid et de chaud la fiévre continue,
D’un si poignant regard mortellement outré.
Lors si ta belle main passant ne m’eust fait signe,
Main blanche, qui se vante estre fille d’un Cygne,
Je fusse mort, Helene, aux rayons de tes yeux:
Mais ton signe retint l’ame presque ravie,
Ton œil se contenta d’estre victorieux,
Ta main se resjouyt de me donner la vie.
