Who is it that this dark night (Thomas Morley): Difference between revisions

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*{{CPDLno|16200}} [{{filepath:467.pdf}} {{pdf}}] [{{website|brianrussell}}/467.mid {{mid}}] [{{website|brianrussell}}/467.nwc NoteWorthy Composer]
*{{CPDLno|16200}} [{{filepath:467.pdf}} {{pdf}}] [{{website|brianrussell}}467.mid {{mid}}] [{{website|brianrussell}}467.nwc NoteWorthy Composer]
{{Editor|Brian Russell|2008-02-19}}{{ScoreInfo|A4|3|35}}{{Copy|CPDL}}
{{Editor|Brian Russell|2008-02-19}}{{ScoreInfo|A4|3|35}}{{Copy|CPDL}}
:'''Edition notes:''' {{NWC}}
:'''Edition notes:''' {{NWC}}

Revision as of 09:47, 29 April 2012

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Editor: Brian Russell (submitted 2008-02-19).   Score information: A4, 3 pages, 35 kB   Copyright: CPDL
Edition notes: Nwc.png

General Information

Title: Who is it that this dark night
Composer: Thomas Morley

Number of voices: 1v   Voicing: T

Genre: SecularPartsong

Language: English
Instruments: Lute
Published: 1600

Description: #7 from Morley's First Book of Ayres.

External websites:

Original text and translations

English.png English text

Who is it that this dark night,
Under my window plaineth?
It is one that from thy sight
Being, ah, exil'd, disdaineth
Ev'ry other vulgar light.

Why, alas, and are you he?
Be not those fond fancies changed?
Dear, when you find change in me
Though from me you be estranged
Let my change to ruin be.

Well, in absence this will die;
Leave to see, and leave to wonder.

Absence sure will help, if I
Can learn now myself to sunder
From what in my heart doth lie.

But time will these thoughts remove;
Time doth work what no man knoweth.
Time doth as the subject prove;
With time still th'affection groweth
In the faithful turtledove.

What if you new beauties see?
Will not they stir new affection?
I will think they pictures be,
Image like of Saint's perfection
Poorly counterfeiting thee.

But the reason's purest light
Bids you leave such minds to nourish;
Dear, do Reason no such spite;
Never doth thy beauty flourish
More than in my reason's sight.

But the wrongs love bears will make,
Love at length leave undertaking.
No, the more fools it doth shake
In a ground of so firm making
Deeper still they drive the stake.

Peace! I think that some give ear,
Come no more lest I get anger.
Bliss! I will my bliss forbear
Fearing, sweet, you to endanger;
But my soul shall harbour there.

Well, be gone, be gone, I say,
Lest that Argus' eyes perceive you.
O unjustest Fortune's sway,
Which can make me thus to leave you
And from louts to run away!