Happy is he, who like Ulysses, has returned successfuly from his travels,
Or like the one who conquered the fleece
And then returned, filled with usage and reason
To live between his parents for the rest of his life

When shall I see again, alas, of my dear village,
Its chimney smoke, and in which season ?
Will I see again that little, modest, plot of earth
That is a province to me, and far more than I draw here?

I’m drawn far more to my forefathers home,
Than to a Roman palace fine and proud,
More than hard marble I prefer fine slate:

My gaul Loir I prefer to latin Tiber,
My little Liré I prefer to Palatine,
And to sea air, soft climate Angevine.?

Joachim du Bellay, Les Regrets, sonnet XXXI, 1558.

And in French…

Heureux qui, comme Ulysse, a fait un beau voyage,
Ou comme cestuy-là qui conquit la toison,
Et puis est retourné, plein d’usage et raison,
Vivre entre ses parents le reste de son âge !

Quand reverrai-je, hélas, de mon petit village
Fumer la cheminée, et en quelle saison
Reverrai-je le clos de ma pauvre maison,
Qui m’est une province, et beaucoup davantage ?

Plus me plaît le séjour qu’ont bâti mes aïeux,
Que des palais Romains le front audacieux,
Plus que le marbre dur me plaît l’ardoise fine :

Plus mon Loir gaulois, que le Tibre latin,
Plus mon petit Liré, que le mont Palatin,
Et plus que l’air marin la douceur angevine.