I saw my lady weep (John Dowland): Difference between revisions
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==Original text and translations== | ==Original text and translations== | ||
{{Text|English | {{Text|English| | ||
:I saw my lady weep, | :I saw my lady weep, | ||
:And Sorrow proud to be advanced so, | :And Sorrow proud to be advanced so, | ||
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:Tears kills the heart. | :Tears kills the heart. | ||
:O strive not to be excellent in woe, | :O strive not to be excellent in woe, | ||
:Which only breeds your beauty's overthrow. | :Which only breeds your beauty's overthrow.}} | ||
[[Category:Sheet music]] | [[Category:Sheet music]] | ||
[[Category:Renaissance music]] | [[Category:Renaissance music]] |
Revision as of 16:34, 31 March 2015
Music files
ICON | SOURCE |
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File details | |
Help |
- Editor: David Fraser (submitted 2008-08-11). Score information: A4, 2 pages, 91 kB Copyright: CPDL
- Edition notes: SB plus lute tablature (7-course, tenor G tuning)
- CPDL #15997: NoteWorthy Composer
- Editor: Brian Russell (submitted 2008-02-15). Score information: A4, 2 pages, 20 kB Copyright: CPDL
- Edition notes:
- Editor: Laura Conrad (submitted 2001-01-31). Score information: A4, 2 pages, 60 kB Copyright: GnuGPL
- Edition notes: partbook format, vocal parts, no lute part.
General Information
Title: I saw my lady weepe
Composer: John Dowland
Number of voices: 2vv Voicing: SB
Genre: Secular, Lute song
Language: English
Instruments: Lute
Published: No I from Second Book of Songs or Ayres (1600)
Description:
External websites:
Original text and translations
English text
I saw my lady weep,
And Sorrow proud to be advanced so,
In those fair eyes where all perfections keep,
Her face was full of woe;
But such a woe (believe me) as wins more hearts,
Than Mirth can do with her enticing parts.
Sorrow was there made fair,
And Passion wise, tears a delightful thing,
Silence beyond all speech a wisdom rare,
She made her sighs to sing,
And all things with so sweet a sadness move,
As made my heart at once both grieve and love.
O fairer than aught else,
The world can show, leave off in time to grieve,
Enough, enough, your joyful looks excels,
Tears kills the heart.
O strive not to be excellent in woe,
Which only breeds your beauty's overthrow.