Bonjour, mon coeur (Philippe de Monte)

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Editor: Gerd Eichler (submitted 2023-11-24).   Score information: A4, 5 pages, 216 kB   Copyright: CPDL
Edition notes: Transcribed from original print, Mensurstrich layout, original key signature and note values, clefs modernized, musica ficta clearly marked. MusicXML source file(s) in compressed .mxl format.
  • (Posted 2015-02-11)  CPDL #34541:  Network.png
Editor: Christopher Shaw (submitted 2015-02-11).   Score information: A4, 5 pages, 55 kB   Copyright: Personal
Edition notes: Please click on the link for preview/playback/PDF download.

General Information

Title: Bonjour, mon coeur
Composer: Philippe de Monte
Lyricist: Pierre de Ronsard

Number of voices: 6vv   Voicing: SAATTB
Genre: SecularChanson

Language: French
Instruments: A cappella

First published: 1575
    2nd published: 1597 Le Rossignol musical, no. 40
Description: From de Monte's collection of settings from Ronsard, Louvain, 1575.

External websites:

Original text and translations

Original text and translations may be found at Bonjour, mon coeur.

French.png French text

Bon iour mon coeur, bon iour ma douce vie, bon iour mon oeuil, bon iour ma chere amie.
He bon iour ma toute belle, ma mignardise, bon iour mes delices, mon amour,
Mon doux printems, ma douce fleur nouvelle, mon doux plaisir, ma douce colombelle,
Mon passereau, ma gente tourterelle. Bon iour ma douce rebelle.
Ie veux mourir si plus on me reproche que mon service est plus froid qu'une roche,
De t'avoir laissé maitresse pour aller suivre le roy, mandiant ie ne sçay quoy,
Que le vulgaire appelle une largesse, plustost périsse honneur, cour et richesse,
Que pour les biens iamais ie te relaisse, ma douce et belle déesse.

English.png English translation

Hello my heart, hello my sweet life, hello my eye, hello my dear friend,
Hey! hello my beauty, my cuteness, hello, my delight, my love,
My sweet spring, my sweet new flower, my sweet pleasure, my sweet little squab,
My sparrow, my gentle turtledove, hello, my sweet rebel.
I want to die if anyone reproaches me further, that my manner is as cold as a rock,
For having left you, mistress, to attend the King, begging, I don't know how,
What the vulgar call a pile; soon honour, position and riches perish;
I will never relinquish you for these benefits, my sweet and beautiful goddess.