Poet/poetic source: Anonymous poet
Poetic form/text type: cantata
Music composer: Giovanni Felice Sances (c.1600-1679)
Music source: Cantade a 1 e 2 voci, libro secondo (Magni press, Venice, 1633)
| Original Italian | Translation |
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Accenti queruli spiegate all'aure, o augelletti garruli, com'io lamenti, caldi sospiri, vital del cor respiri mando dal seno ai venti. Miei sospir, miei respir, o miei lamenti: Andate languidi nel duol soliciti alla mia Lidia; dite ch'io spiro, dite ch'io moro pien di martiro senza fatal ristoro, ch'io spiro con martir, dite ch'io moro. Che forse placida qual pria fu rigida ai pianti, a' gemiti, vi darà pace, vi darà vita; né più sì audace dirà: «non merta aita, ma all'audace in amor do pace e vita.» Ch'in sguardo rigido bellezze angeliche furò dell'anima, trasse l'ardore, squarciò il bel velo, rubò l'onore. Con finto zelo: «O mio ardor! o mio onor! squarciato velo!» Dirà così la misera, e voi sospiri, rispondete a lei: «Lidia: se taci, ancor vergine sei, che quando sfogai teco l'ardor mio, altri non fu che Lidia, Amor ed io.» |
Querulous notes spread on the breezes, O chattering little birds, like me, my laments, hot sighs, vital breaths of my heart I send from my breast to the winds. My sighs, my breaths, o my laments: Go, languid [sighs, breaths, laments] in sorrowful petitions to my Lydia; say that I expire, say that I die full of torment, without fatal relief, that I expire with lovesick suffering, say that I die. For perhaps pleasant her, who before was cold to my weeping, to my moans, she will give you [laments, etc] peace, she will give you life, no longer so bold she shall say: 'He does not deserve help, but to the bold in love I give peace and life.' For in her stern glance, angelic beauties he seized from her soul, he drew from her passion, he tore her fair veil, he stole her honor. With feigned zeal [she says]: 'O my passion! O my honor! My torn veil!' So shall the wretched one say, and you, my sighs, will respond to her: 'Lydia, if you stay silent, you will still be a virgin, for when I poured out my ardor with you, there were no others there but Lydia, Love, and I. |