philomela - rebecca clarke lyrics
the nightingale, as soon as april bringeth
unto her rested sense a perfect waking
while late*bare earth, proud of new clothing, springeth
sings out her woes, a th*rn her song*book making
and mournfully bewailing
her throat in tunes expresseth
what grief her breast oppresseth
for tereus’ force on her chaste will prevailing
o philomela fair, o take some gladness
that here is justеr cause of plaintful sadness!
thine еarth now springs, mine fadeth;
thy th*rn without, my th*rn my heart invadeth
alas! she hath no other cause of anguish
but tereus’ love, on her by strong hand wroken
wherein she suffering, all her spirits languish;
full womanlike complains her will was broken
but i, who daily craving
cannot have to content me
have more cause to lament me
since wanting is more woe than too much having
o philomela fair, o take some gladness
that here is juster cause of plaintful sadness:
thine earth now springs, mine fadeth;
thy th*rn without, my th*rn my heart invadeth
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