Gloria in excelsis Deo.
Et in terra pax hominibus bonae voluntatis.
Laudamus te. Benedicimus te.
Adoramus te. Glorificamus te.

Glory be to God on high,
and on earth peace, good will towards all.
We praise thee, we bless thee,
we worship thee, we glorify thee.

Dying sun, shine warm a little longer!
My eye, dazzled with tears, shall dazzle yours
Conjuring you to shine and not to move
You, sun, and I all afternoon have laboured
Beneath a dewless and oppressive cloud–
A fleece now gilded with our common grief
That this must be a night without a moon
Dying sun, shine warm a little longer!

Faithless she was not: she was very woman
Smiling with dire impartiality
Sovereign, with heart unmatched, adored of men
Until Spring’s cuckoo with bedraggled plumes
Tempted her pity and her truth betrayed
Then she who shone for all resigned her being
And this must be a night without a moon
Dying sun, shine warm a little longer!

How hard the year dies: no frost yet
On drifts of yellow sand Midas reclines
Fearless of moaning reed or sullen wave
Firm and fragrant still the brambleberries
On ivy-bloom butterflies wag

Spare him a little longer, Crone
For his clean hands and love-submissive heart

Dieu! qu’il la fait bon regarder
la gracieuse bonne et belle;
pour les grans biens que sont en elle
chascun est prest de la loüer.
Qui se pourrait d’elle lasser?
Toujours sa beauté renouvelle.
Par de ça, ne de là, la mer
ne scay dame ne damoiselle
qui soit en tous bien parfais telle.
C’est un songe que d’y penser:
Dieu! qu’il la fait bon regarder.

God, what a vision she is;
one imbued with grace, true and beautiful!
For all the virtues that are hers
everyone is quick to praise her.
Who could tire of her?
Her beauty constantly renews itself;
On neither side of the ocean
do I know any girl or woman
who is in all virtues so perfect;
it’s a dream even to think of her;
God, what a vision she is.

Yver, vous n’estes qu’un villain;
Esté est plaisant et gentil
En témoing de may et d’avril
Qui l’accompaignent soir et main.

Esté revet champs, bois et fleurs
De sa livrée de verdure
Et de maintes autres couleurs
Par l’ordonnance de Nature.

Mais vous, Yver, trop estes plein
De nège, vent, pluye et grézil.
On vous deust banir en éxil.
Sans point flater je parle plein,
Yver, vous n’estes qu’un villain.

Winter, you are naught but a rouge.
Summer is pleasant and kind
as we see from May and April
which accompany it evening and morning.

Summer clothes fields, woods, and flowers
with its livery of green
and many other hues,
by nature’s order.

But you, Winter, are too full of
snow, wind, rain, and sleet.
We must send you into exile.
With no flattery, I speak my mind;
Winter, you are naught but a rouge.