From silent night (John Dowland): Difference between revisions

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*'''CPDL #17280:''' [{{SERVER}}/wiki/images/e/e5/DOWL-FRO.pdf {{pdf}}] [{{SERVER}}/wiki/images/c/ce/DOWL-FRO.mid {{mid}}]
*'''CPDL #17280:''' [{{SERVER}}/wiki/images/e/e5/DOWL-FRO.pdf {{pdf}}] [{{SERVER}}/wiki/images/c/ce/DOWL-FRO.mid {{mid}}]
:'''Editor:''' [[User:David Fraser|David Fraser]] ''(added 2008-06-17)''.   '''Score information:''' A4, 3 pages, 120 kbytes   {{Copy|CPDL}}
{{Editor|David Fraser|2008-06-17}} '''Score information:''' A4, 3 pages, 120 kbytes   {{Copy|CPDL}}
:'''Edition notes:''' Alto solo, treble & bass viols, and lute tablature (7-course, tenor G tuning)
:'''Edition notes:''' Alto solo, treble & bass viols, and lute tablature (7-course, tenor G tuning)



Revision as of 21:51, 22 December 2008

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  • CPDL #17280: Icon_pdf.gif Icon_snd.gif
Editor: David Fraser (submitted 2008-06-17).   Score information: A4, 3 pages, 120 kbytes   Copyright: CPDL
Edition notes: Alto solo, treble & bass viols, and lute tablature (7-course, tenor G tuning)

General Information

Title: From silent night
Composer: John Dowland

Number of voices: 1v   Voicing: A

Genre: Secular, Lute song

Language: English
Instruments: Lute, treble & bass viols
Published: A Pilgrimes Solace (1612), no.10.

Description:

External websites:


Original text and translations

English.png English text

From silent night, true register of moanes,
From saddest Soule consumde with deepest sinnes,
From hart quite rent with sighes and heavie groanes,
My wayling Muse her wofull worke beginnes.
And to the world brings tunes of sad despaire,
Sounding nought else but sorrow, griefe and care.

Sorrow to see my sorrowes cause augmented,
and yet lesse sorrowfull were my sorrowes more:
Griefe that my griefe with griefe is not prevented,
for griefe it is must east my grieved sore.
Thus griefe and sorrow cares but how to grieve,
For griefe and sorrow must my cares relieve.

If any eye therefore can spare a teare
to fill the well-spring that must wet my cheekes,
O let that eye to this sad feast draw neere,
refuse me not my humble soule beseekes:
For all the teares mine eyes have ever wept
Were now too little had they all beene kept.