Italia mia (Philippe Verdelot)

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  • (Posted 2015-01-08)   CPDL #34196:     
Editor: Allen Garvin (submitted 2015-01-08).   Score information: Letter, 5 pages, 104 kB   Copyright: CC BY NC
Edition notes: Parts and source available at IMSLP.
  • CPDL #12261:       
Editor: Brian Russell (submitted 2006-08-10).   Score information: Letter, 7 pages, 102 kB   Copyright: CPDL
Edition notes: NoteWorthy Composer file may be viewed and printed with NoteWorthy Composer Viewer.
  • CPDL #00428:       
Editor: Adam P. Cole (submitted 1999-08-23).   Score information: Letter, 10 pages, 144 kB   Copyright: CPDL
Edition notes: NoteWorthy Composer file may be viewed and printed with NoteWorthy Composer Viewer.

General Information

Title: Italia mia
Composer: Philippe Verdelot
Lyricist: Francesco Petrarca

Number of voices: 5vv   Voicing: SATTB
Genre: SecularMadrigal

Language: Italian
Instruments: A cappella

First published: 1538 in Madrigali a cinque voci (Philippe Verdelot), no. 3

Description:

External websites:

Original text and translations

Italian.png Italian text

Italia mia, ben ch’el parlar
Sia indarno a le piaghe mortali
Che nel’ bel corpo tuo spesse veggio
Piacem’ almen’ ch’ e’ mia sospir’ sien quali
Sper’ il Tever’ et l’Arno
E’l Pove doglioso et grave hor seggio.
Rector’ del ciel’, io cheggio
Che la pieta che ti conduce in terra
Ti volgha al tuo dilect’ almo paese:
Vedi, Signor’ cortese,
Di che levi cagion che crudel guerra
I cor’, ch’ indur’ et serra
Marte superb’ et fero
Apri tu, padr’ e’ntenerisci et snoda;
Ivi fa ch’el tuo vero
Qual’ io mi sia per la mia lingua s’oda.

Canzoniere 128 (v. 1)

English.png English translation

My Italy, though words cannot heal
the mortal wounds
so dense, I see on your lovely flesh,
at least I pray that my sighs might bring
some hope to the Tiber and the Arno,
and the Po, that sees me now sad and grave.
Ruler of Heaven, I hope
that the pity that brought You to earth,
will turn you towards your soul-delighting land.
Lord of courtesy, see
such cruel wars for such slight causes:
and hearts, hardened and closed
by proud, fierce Mars,
and open them, Father, soften them, set them free:
and, whatever I may be, let your Truth
be heard in my speech.

Translation by Anthony S. Kline ©