If love's a sweet passion, Z 629/17 (Henry Purcell): Difference between revisions
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<poem> | |||
Lyrics from CPDL 3277: | |||
I press her hand gently, look languishing down, | |||
and by passionate silence I make my love known. | |||
But oh! How I'm blest when so kind she does prove, | |||
by some willing mistake to discover her love. | |||
When in striving to hide, she reveals her flame, | |||
and in our eyes tell each other what neither dares name. | |||
Lyrics from CPDL 3020: | |||
If love's a sweet passion why does it torment? | |||
If a bitter, oh tell me, whence comes my content? | |||
Since I suffer with pleasure, why should I complain, | |||
or grieve at my fate, when I know it's in vain? | |||
Yet so pleasing the pain is so soft as the dart, | |||
That at once it both wounds me and tickles my heart. | |||
</poem> | |||
[[Category:Sheet music]] | [[Category:Sheet music]] | ||
[[Category:Operas]] | [[Category:Operas]] | ||
[[Category:Baroque music]] | [[Category:Baroque music]] |
Revision as of 00:24, 27 August 2010
Music files
ICON | SOURCE |
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File details | |
Help |
- Editor: Udo Baake (submitted 2002-02-20). Score information: Copyright: CPDL
- Edition notes: in A4 page format, different lyrics from ID # 3020
- Editor: Alfred M. Drenth (submitted 2001-09-28). Score information: 104 kbytes Copyright: CPDL
- Edition notes: in A4 page format, requires Acrobat Reader 4.0 or higher
General Information
Title: If Love's a Sweet Passion
Composer: Henry Purcell
Number of voices: 4vv Voicing: SATB
Genre: Secular, Opera
Language: English
Instruments: a cappella
Published:
Description:
External websites:
Original text and translations
English text
Lyrics from CPDL 3277:
I press her hand gently, look languishing down,
and by passionate silence I make my love known.
But oh! How I'm blest when so kind she does prove,
by some willing mistake to discover her love.
When in striving to hide, she reveals her flame,
and in our eyes tell each other what neither dares name.
Lyrics from CPDL 3020:
If love's a sweet passion why does it torment?
If a bitter, oh tell me, whence comes my content?
Since I suffer with pleasure, why should I complain,
or grieve at my fate, when I know it's in vain?
Yet so pleasing the pain is so soft as the dart,
That at once it both wounds me and tickles my heart.