Ad una fresca riva (Luca Marenzio)

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• (Posted 2020-08-17)  CPDL #60177:        (LilyPond)

Editor: Allen Garvin (submitted 2020-08-17).   Score information: Letter, 2 pages, 63 kB   Copyright: CC BY NC

Edition notes:

• (Posted 2017-06-03)  CPDL #44852:        (Finale 2012)

Editor: André Vierendeels (submitted 2017-06-03).   Score information: A4, 2 pages, 52 kB   Copyright: CPDL

Edition notes:

• (Posted 2005-08-30)  CPDL #09240:         

Editor: Brian Russell (submitted 2005-08-30).   Score information: A4, 2 pages, 17 kB   Copyright: CPDL

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

• (Posted 2003-11-06)  CPDL #05960:         

Editor: Bettina Blokland (submitted 2003-11-06).   Score information: A4, 2 pages, 37 kB   Copyright: Personal

Edition notes:

• (Posted 2002-08-12)  CPDL #03905: 

Editor: Marco Gallo (submitted 2002-08-12).   Score information: A4, 2 pages, 23 kB   Copyright: Free Art License

Edition notes: listed alphabetically by composer.

General Information

Title: Ad una fresca riva
Composer: Luca Marenzio

Number of voices: 3vv   Voicing: SSA
Genre: Secular, Madrigal

Language: Italian
Instruments: A cappella

First published: 1585 in Il terzo libro delle villanelle a tre voci, no. 19
Description: 

Original text and translations

Italian text Ad una fresca riva Guidommi Amor dove era la mia Diva, Che con gli occhi, co'l crin e’l visadorno Fea nascer fiore e vaghe erbett'intorno. Se a me gli occhi volgea Invidia agli altri amanti ella porgea, Che co' sguardi, con risi e con parole Era a me sol dolcissimo il mio sole. Se apria le chiome bionde Garrian gli augelli e si fermavan la onde, E se gioia al mio cor era il lor canto A ogni altro amante era cagion di pianto.

English translation At a fresh shore Led me Love, where my Goddess was, Who with eyes, and hair and her beautiful face Let around her flowers and grass grow. If she turned her eyes to me She gave envy to other lovers, She who, with looks, smiles and words Was my sweetest sun. If she opened her blond hair The birds sang, and the waves stopped, And if joy to me was their singing To every other lover was a reason to cry.