Difference between revisions of "O that most rare breast (William Byrd)"

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==Music files==
 
==Music files==
 
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==Original text and translations==
 
==Original text and translations==
  
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O that most rare breast, crystaline sincere,<br>
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through which like gold thy princely heart did shine,<br>
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o sprite heroic o valiant worthly knight<br>
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o Sidney, prince of fame and men's good will.<br>
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For thee both kings and princesses do mourn,<br>
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thy noble tomb,<br>
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three cities strange desired<br>
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foes to the cause thy prowless did defend<br>
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bewail the day that crossed thy famous race.<br>
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The doleful debt due to thy hearse I pay,<br>
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tears from the soul thy aye tahy want shall moan,<br>
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and by my will my life itself would yield,<br>
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if heathen blame ne might my faith distain.<br>
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O heavy time,<br>
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that my days draw behind thee,<br>
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thou dead dost live,<br>
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my friend here living dieth.<br>
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[[Category:Sheet music]][[Category:Secular music]][[Category:Madrigals]][[Category:SATTB]][[Category:Renaissance music]]
 
[[Category:Sheet music]][[Category:Secular music]][[Category:Madrigals]][[Category:SATTB]][[Category:Renaissance music]]

Revision as of 03:54, 12 August 2006

Music files

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Editor: David Fraser (added 2003-03-23).   Score information: A4, 11 pages, 196 kbytes   Copyright: CPDL
Edition notes:

General Information

Title: O that most rare breast
Composer: William Byrd

Number of voices: 5vv  Voicing: SATTB
Genre: Secular, Madrigals
Language: English
Instruments: none, a cappella
Published: Psalmes, Sonnets & Songs (1588), no. 35

Description:

External websites:

Original text and translations

English.png English text

O that most rare breast, crystaline sincere,
through which like gold thy princely heart did shine,
o sprite heroic o valiant worthly knight
o Sidney, prince of fame and men's good will.

For thee both kings and princesses do mourn,
thy noble tomb,
three cities strange desired
foes to the cause thy prowless did defend
bewail the day that crossed thy famous race.

The doleful debt due to thy hearse I pay,
tears from the soul thy aye tahy want shall moan,
and by my will my life itself would yield,
if heathen blame ne might my faith distain.


O heavy time,
that my days draw behind thee,
thou dead dost live,
my friend here living dieth.