Musae Iovis (Nicolas Gombert): Difference between revisions
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{{Editor|David Millard|2010-11-27}}{{ScoreInfo|Letter|12|112}}{{Copy|Personal}} | {{Editor|David Millard|2010-11-27}}{{ScoreInfo|Letter|12|112}}{{Copy|Personal}} | ||
:'''Edition notes:''' Original note values have been retained, but modern clefs have been used. The Latin text and an English translation are included in the edition. | :'''Edition notes:''' Original note values have been retained, but modern clefs have been used. The Latin text and an English translation are included in the edition. | ||
Revision as of 01:21, 13 November 2011
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- CPDL #22734:
- Editor: David Millard (submitted 2010-11-27). Score information: Letter, 12 pages, 112 kB Copyright: Personal
- Edition notes: Original note values have been retained, but modern clefs have been used. The Latin text and an English translation are included in the edition.
Possible error(s) identified. See the discussion page for full description.
General Information
Title: Musae Iovis
Composer: Nicolas Gombert
Number of voices: 6vv Voicing: ATTTBB
Genre: Secular, Motet, Lament
Language: Latin
Instruments: a cappella
Published: 1545
Description: Elegy for Josquin des Prez
External websites:
Original text and translations
Latin text
Musæ Iovis ter maximi
Proles canora, plangite,
Comas cypressus comprimat
Iosquinus ille occidit,
Templorum decus,
Et vestrum decus.
Severa mors et improba
Quæ templa et dulcibus sonis
Privas, et aulas principum
Malum tibi quod imprecer,
Tollenti bonos,
Parcenti malis.
Apollo sed necem tibi
Minatur, heus mors pessima,
Instructus et arcu et spiculis
Musasque ut addent commonet,
Et laurum comis,
Et aurum comis.
Iosquinus (inquit) optimo
Et maximo gratus Iovi
Triumphat inter cœlites,
Et dulce carmen concinit
Templorum decus,
Musarum decus.
English translation
Ye Muses, melodious offspring of thrice-greatest Jupiter, make lamentation.
The cypress draws in its leaves. Josquin, the glory of temples, your own glory, himself is dead.
Grim and merciless Death, who deprives the temples and princely courts of sweet sounds,
I invoke a curse on you for casting away the good and sparing the undeserving.
But Apollo, skilful with bow and arrow, threatens you with murder, O most wretched Death,
and calls upon the Muses to bind both laurel and gold in their hair.
"Josquin," he says, "pleasing to the best and greatest Jupiter, rejoices with the heavenly beings
and sings a sweet song which is the glory of temples, the glory of the Muses".