Not, Celia, that I juster am (Elizabeth Turner): Difference between revisions
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==Music files== | ==Music files== | ||
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*{{PostedDate|2015-08-19}} {{CPDLno|36501}} [[Media:Tur-not.pdf|{{pdf}}]] [[Media:Tur-not.mid|{{mid}}]] [[Media:Tur-not.sib|{{sib}}]] | *{{PostedDate|2015-08-19}} {{CPDLno|36501}} [[Media:Tur-not.pdf|{{pdf}}]] [[Media:Tur-not.mid|{{mid}}]] [[Media:Tur-not.sib|{{sib}}]] | ||
{{Editor|2|Jonathan Goodliffe|Mick Swithinbank|2015-08-19}}{{ScoreInfo|A4|2|36}}{{Copy|CPDL}} | {{Editor|2|Jonathan Goodliffe|Mick Swithinbank|2015-08-19}}{{ScoreInfo|A4|2|36}}{{Copy|CPDL}} | ||
:'''Edition notes:''' In the source the words of Sedley's poem have been changed for no obvious reason, so the original words have been restored in this edition. | :'''Edition notes:''' In the source the words of Sedley's poem have been changed for no obvious reason, so the original words have been restored in this edition. |
Revision as of 07:08, 20 January 2017
Music files
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- Editors: Jonathan Goodliffe and Mick Swithinbank (submitted 2015-08-19). Score information: A4, 2 pages, 36 kB Copyright: CPDL
- Edition notes: In the source the words of Sedley's poem have been changed for no obvious reason, so the original words have been restored in this edition.
General Information
Title: Not, Celia, though I juster am
Composer: Elizabeth Turner
Lyricist: Charles Sedley
Number of voices: 1v Voicing: Soprano solo
Genre: Secular, Aria
Language: English
Instruments: Keyboard
{{Published}} is obsolete (code commented out), replaced with {{Pub}} for works and {{PubDatePlace}} for publications.
Description: A solo song to a poem by the 17th Century poet, wit, and politician, Sir Charles Sedley.
External websites: The source on IMSLP: a "Collection of Songs" published in 1756,
Original text and translations
English text
Not, Celia, that I juster am
Or better than the rest;
For I would change each hour like them,
Were not my heart at rest.
But I am tied to very thee
By every thought I have;
Thy face I only care to see,
Thy heart I only crave.
All that in woman is adored
In thy dear self I find;
For the whole sex can but afford
The handsome and the kind.
Why then should I seek further store,
And still make love anew?
When change itself can give no more,
βTis easy to be true.