Hawthorne Early Music editions: Canzoniere 126
Chiare, fresche et dolci acque
Canzoniere #126 (CXXVI)
Poetic form: canzone
Chiare, fresche et dolci acque, ove le belle membra pose colei che sola a me par donna; gentil ramo ove piacque (con sospir' mi rimembra) a lei di fare al bel fiancho colonna; herba et fior' che la gonna leggiadra ricoverse co l'angelico seno; aere sacro, sereno, ove Amor co' begli occhi il cor m'aperse: date udienza insieme a le dolenti mie parole extreme. S'egli è pur mio destino e 'l cielo in ciò s'adopra, ch'Amor quest'occhi lagrimando chiuda, qualche gratia il meschino corpo fra voi ricopra, et torni l'alma al proprio albergo ignuda. La morte fia men cruda se questa spene porto a quel dubbioso passo: ché lo spirito lasso non poria mai in più riposato porto né in più tranquilla fossa fuggir la carne travagliata et l'ossa. Tempo verrà anchor forse ch'a l'usato soggiorno torni la fera bella et mansüeta, et là 'v'ella mi scorse nel benedetto giorno, volga la vista disiosa et lieta, cercandomi; et, o pietà!, già terra in fra le pietre vedendo, Amor l'inspiri in guisa che sospiri sì dolcemente che mercé m'impetre, et faccia forza al cielo, asciugandosi gli occhi col bel velo. Da' be' rami scendea (dolce ne la memoria) una pioggia di fior' sovra 'l suo grembo; et ella si sedea humile in tanta gloria, coverta già de l'amoroso nembo. Qual fior cadea sul lembo, qual su le treccie bionde, ch'oro forbito et perle eran quel dì a vederle; qual si posava in terra, et qual su l'onde; qual con un vago errore girando parea dir: - Qui regna Amore. - Quante volte diss'io allor pien di spavento: Costei per fermo nacque in paradiso. Così carco d'oblio il divin portamento e 'l volto e le parole e 'l dolce riso m'aveano, et sì diviso da l'imagine vera, ch'i' dicea sospirando: Qui come venn'io, o quando?; credendo d'esser in ciel, non là dov'era. Da indi in qua mi piace questa herba sì, ch'altrove non o pace. Se tu avessi ornamenti quant'ài voglia, poresti arditamente uscir del boscho, et gir in fra la gente. |
Clear, sweet fresh water where she, the only one who seemed woman to me, rested her beautiful limbs: gentle branch where it pleased her (with sighs, I remember it) to make a pillar for her lovely flank: grass and flowers which her dress lightly covered, as it did the angelic breast: serene, and sacred air, where Love pierced my heart with eyes of beauty: listen together to my last sad words. If it is my destiny and heaven works towards this, that Love should close these weeping eyes, let some grace bury my poor body amongst you, and the soul return naked to its place. Death would be less cruel if I could bear this hope to the uncertain crossing: since the weary spirit could never in a more gentle harbour, or in a quieter grave, leave behind its troubled flesh and bone. Perhaps another time will come, when the beautiful, wild, and gentle one will return to this accustomed place, and here where she glanced at me on that blessed day may turn her face yearning and joyful, to find me: and, oh pity!, seeing me already earth among the stones, Love will inspire her in a manner such that she will sigh so sweetly she will obtain mercy for me, and have power in heaven, drying her eyes with her lovely veil. A rain of flowers descended (sweet in the memory) from the beautiful branches into her lap, and she sat there humble amongst such glory, covered now by the loving shower. A flower fell on her hem, one in her braided blonde hair, that was seen on that day to be like chased gold and pearl: one rested on the ground, and one in the water, and one, in wandering vagary, twirling, seemed to say: 'Here Love rules'. Then, full of apprehension, how often I said: 'For certain she was born in Paradise.' Her divine bearing and her face, her speech, her sweet smile captured me, and so separated me, from true thought that I would say, sighing: 'How did I come here, and when?' believing I was in heaven, not there where I was. Since then this grass has so pleased me, nowhere else do I find peace. Song, if you had as much beauty as you wished, you could boldly leave this wood, and go among people. |
All translations copyrighted by A.S. Kline, and are used with explicit permission.
Composer | Title | Subtitle | Language | Parts | Files |
---|---|---|---|---|---|
Jacques Arcadelt (c.1507-1568) | Chiare fresche et dolci acque | Prima parte | italian | 5 | Score + parts |
Jacques Arcadelt (c.1507-1568) | S'egli è pur mio destino | Seconda parte | italian | 4 | Score + parts |
Jacques Arcadelt (c.1507-1568) | Tempo verrà anchor forse | Terza parte | italian | 3 | Score + parts |
Jacques Arcadelt (c.1507-1568) | Da bei rami scendea | italian | 4 | Score + parts Watch on youtube | |
Adriano Willaert (c.1490-1562) | Quante volte diss'io | italian | 4 | Score + parts Watch on youtube |