Louise Labé (1524 – 1566), nicknamed La Belle Cordière, was a French poet of the modern era. Considered one of the greatest authors of the 16th century, she claimed for women the right to education and independence of thought.
The Beautiful Cordiere
Daughter of Pierre Charly, apprentice ropemaker, Louise Charly was born in 1524 in Lyon. Her father having taken the nickname of Pierre Labé, Louise imitated him and called herself Louise Labé. She received a good education, learning in particular Italian, Latin and music.
Louise marries a wealthy rope merchant, Ennemond Perin, and earns her nickname of "Belle Cordière". Her husband's fortune enabled her to satisfy her passion for literature by building up a large library. Starting to write herself, she surrounded herself with poets and joined the literary group Ecole de Lyon. Appreciated by the poets of her time, she collaborated with them for some of her writings.
The Madness and Love Debate
His work (662 verses) was fully published in 1555. His poems, inspired by Ovid, are formal but passionate; in The Debate of Madness and Love , she claims for women the right to education and independence of thought. Like Christine de Pizan before her, Louise Labé speaks out against the misogyny of the Roman de la Rose , allegorical poem dealing with love.
Louise Labé died on April 25, 1566; she is still considered one of the greatest authors of the 16th century.
As long as my eyes can shed tears
As long as my eyes can shed tears
To regret the time spent with you,
And resist sobs and sighs
May my voice be heard, and a little heard;As long as my hand can tender the strings
A cute lute, for your graces to sing;
As long as the mind pleases
To want nothing for you to understand,I don't want to die yet.
But when my eyes feel dry,
My broken voice, and my helpless hand,And my spirit in this mortal abode
No longer able to show signs of a lover,
Will pray death darken my brightest day.
Don't take it back, ladies, if I liked it
Do not take back, ladies, if I have loved,
If I felt a thousand burning torches,
A thousand labors, a thousand biting pains,
If by crying I have wasted my time,Alas! let my name not be blamed by you.
If I have failed, the penalties are present.
Do not embitter their violent points;
But believe that Love, at the right time,Without your ardor of a Vulcan excuse,
Without the beauty of Adonis to accuse,
Will, if he wants, make you fall in love moreHaving less second-hand than me,
And more strange and strong passion.
And beware of being more unhappy.