A Shepherd in a shade his plaining made (John Dowland)

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• CPDL #16806: NoteWorthy Composer

Editor: Brian Russell (submitted 2008-05-06).   Score information: A4, 3 pages, 27 kbytes   Copyright: CPDL

Edition notes: NoteWorthy Composer file may be viewed and printed with NoteWorthy Composer Viewer.

• CPDL #11874: Finale 2006

Editor: Daniel Harmer (submitted 2006-06-13).   Score information: Letter, 4 pages, 89 kbytes   Copyright: CPDL

Edition notes:

• CPDL #03944: PDF and MIDI files

Editor: Eva Toller (submitted 2002-08-23).   Score information: A4, 6 pages, 82 kbytes   Copyright: Personal

Edition notes: Arranged for TTBB. MIDI files available for each part.

• CPDL #00990: PDF, MIDI and LilyPond files

Editor: Laura Conrad (submitted 2000-06-21).   Score information: A4, 5 pages, 90 kbytes   Copyright: GnuGPL

Edition notes: in partbook format

• CPDL #00113:

Editor: Frank Nordberg (submitted 1999-10-14).   Score information: A4, 5 pages, 144 kbytes   Copyright: CPDL

Edition notes:

General Information

Title: A Sheperd in a shade his plaining made
Composer: John Dowland

Number of voices: 4vv Voicing: SATB or TTBB
Genre: Secular, Madrigal

Language: English
Instruments: a cappella
Published: 1600

Description: No. XVII from Second Book of Songs or Ayres (1600)

External websites:

Original text and translations

English text

A shepherd in a shade,

his plaining made,

of love and lovers wrong,

Unto the fairest lasse,

that trode on grasse,

and thus began his song.

Refrain

Restore, restore my hart againe,

Which love by thy sweet looks hath slaine,

Least that inforst by your distaine,

I sing, fie fie on love,

it is a foolish thing

Since love and fortune will,

I honour still,

your faire and lovely eye,

What conquest will it be,

Sweet nymph, for thee,

If I for sorrow dye.

Refrain

Restore, restore my hart againe,

Which love by thy sweet looks hath slaine,

Least that inforst by your distaine,

I sing, fie fie on love,

it is a foolish thing

My hart where have you laid

O cruell maide,

To kill when you might save,

Why have yee cast it forth

as nothing worth,

Without a tombe or grave.

Refrain

O let it bee intombed and lye,

In your sweet minde and memorie,

Least I resound on every warbling string,

Fye fye on love

that is a foolish thing.