Me me and none but me, dart home O gentle death and quicklie, for I draw too long this idle breath: O howe I long till I may fly to heaven above, unto my faithfull and beloved turtle dove. Like to the silver Swanne, before my death I sing: And yet alive my fatall knell I helpe to ring. Still I desire from earth and earthly joyes to flie, He never happie liv’d, that cannot love to die.

Ne je ne dors, ne je ne veille, Tant ay fort la puce en l’oreille, C’est du mains que de souspirer: Car contraint suis de desirer Que mort contre moy se resveille. Desir ne veult que je sommeille, L’oeil ouvert ennui me conseille, Que je transisse de pleurer. Ne je ne dors… Je n’ay pas la coulleur vermeille, C’est par vous, dont je m’esmerveille, Comment vous povez endurer. Que pour vous craindre et honnourer, Je souffre doulleur nonpareille. Ne je ne dors… I cannot sleep, nor can I wake, So strong is my agitation. All I can do is sigh. I am forced to desire That death may rise against me. Desire will not let me sleep. Anguish with open eye urges me, To die with weeping. I cannot sleep… I have lost my healthy complexion This is because of you and I wonder At how you can allow, That for the sake of fearing and honoring you I suffer incomparable grief. I cannot sleep…

Quand'io pens'al martire Amor que tu mi dai gravos'e forte Corro per gir'a morte Cosi sperando i miei danni finire. Ma poi ch'io giung'al passo Che port' in questo mar pien di tormento Tanto piacer ne sento Che l'alma si rinforza ond'io no'l passo, Cosi l' viver m' ancide Cosi la morte mi ritorn' in vita O miseria infinita Che l'un apporta e l'altro non recide. When I think of the suffering That love has so grievously forced upon me I hasten toward death Therefore hoping to end mine own damnation. But then to add to the suffering I stand at the port of this same sea of affliction. Senseless in the face of such delight. Why the ship of my soul braces a waterless wave. Thus, living kills me; Thus dying, life returns. O endless misery One gives, and the other takes away. (Pietro Bembo CANZONE VI. (XIII.)

Vergine bella, che di sol vestita, coronata di stelle, al sommo Sole piacesti sí, che 'n te Sua luce ascose, amor mi spinge a dir di te parole: ma non so 'ncominciar senza tu' aita, et di Colui ch'amando in te si pose. Invoco lei che ben sempre rispose, chi la chiamò con fede: Vergine, s'a mercede miseria extrema de l'humane cose già mai ti volse, al mio prego t'inchina, soccorri a la mia guerra, bench'i' sia terra, et tu del ciel regina. - Francesco Petrarch (1304-1374) O Virgin fair, arrayed in the sun, crowned with stars, You who found such favor with the highest Sun that he hid his light in you, Love drives me to speak of you. But I cannot even begin without your aid and the aid of Him who established Himself in you. I invoke her who has always answered those Who called upon her with faith. Lady, if extreme misery in things of earth ever turned you to pity, Bend down to to my prayer, help me in my struggle Though I be clay, And you the queen of heaven! translation by Donna Stewart

Tantum ergo Sacramentum Veneremur cernui: Et antiquum documentum novo cedat ritui: Praestet fides supplementum sensuum defectui. Genitori, Genitoque laus et iubilatio, Salus, honor, virtus quoque sit et benedictio: Procedenti ab utroque Compar sit laudatio. Amen. Let us therefore, bowing low, Venerate so great a Sacrament; And let the old law give way to the new rite; Let faith afford assistance to the deficiency of the senses. To the Begetter and the Begotten let there be praise and jubilation, Salvation and honor, and power and blessing; And to the One proceeding from both Let there be equal praise.

Sicut cervus desiderat ad fontes aquarum, ita desiderat anima mea ad te, Deus. Sitivit anima mea ad Deum fortem vivum: quando veniam et apparebo ante faciem Dei? Fuerunt mihi lacrymae meae panes die ac nocte, dum dicitur mihi quotidie: Ubi est Deus tuus? As the hart longs for the water springs, So longs my soul for thee, O God. My soul has thirsted for the living God: When shall I come and appear before the face of my God? My tears have been my bread by day and by night, While it is said to me daily: Where is your God?

Sitivit anima mea ad Deum fortem vivum: quando veniam et apparebo ante faciem Dei? Fuerunt mihi lacrymae meae panes die ac nocte, dum dicitur mihi quotidie: Ubi est Deus tuus? My soul has thirsted for the living God: When shall I come and appear before the face of my God? My tears have been my bread by day and by night, While it is said to me daily: Where is your God?

Ave verum corpus, natum de Maria Virgine, vere passum, immolatum in cruce pro homine, cuius latus perforatum fluxit sanguine: esto nobis praegustatum in mortis examine. O Iesu dulcis, O Iesu pie, O Iesu, fili Mariae. Miserere mei. Amen. Hail, true Body, born of the Virgin Mary, who has truly suffered, was sacrificed on the cross for mortals, whose pierced side flowed with blood: Be for us a foretaste [of Heaven] in the final judgement. Oh sweet, oh pious, oh Jesus, son of Mary, Have mercy on me. Amen.

Sleepe slumbringe eyes, give rest vnto my cares, my cares, the Infants of my troubled braine, my cares surprisde, surprisde with Black dispaire doth the assertion of my hopes restraine. Sleepe then my eyes ô sleep & take your Reste To banishe sorrow from a free borne Breste. My freborn brest born Free to sorrowes Smarte brought in subiection by my wandringe Eye Whose traytrus sighte conceivd that to my harte, For which I waile, I sob, I sighe, I Dye. Sleepe then my eyes, disturbed of quiet reste, To banishe sorrow From my captive breste. My captive brest, stounge by these glistringe starres: these glistringe starres: the bewty of the skye: that bright blacke skye which doth the soon beames baine: From Her sweete comforte on my harts sad eye: Wake then my eyes trewe partners of vnreste: For Sorrow still must harboure in my breste.

Madonna, per voi ardo Et voi non me credete Perche non pia quanto bella sete Ogn’hora miro e guardo Se tanta crudeltà cangiar volete. Donna, non v’accorgete Che per voi moro e ardo? Et per mirar vostra beltà infinita Et voi sola servir bramo la vita. My lady, I burn with love for you And you do not believe it, For you are not as kind as you are beautiful. I look at you and admire you constantly. If you wish to change this great cruelty, Lady, are you unaware That for you I die and burn? And in order to admire your infinite beauty And to serve you alone, I desire life.

No more shall meads be deck’d with flow’rs, Nor sweetness live in rosy bow’rs, Nor greenest buds on branches spring, Nor warbling birds delight to sing, Nor April violets paint the grove, When once I leave my Celia’s love. The fish shall in the ocean burn, And fountains sweet shall bitter turn; The humble vale no floods shall know, When floods shall highest hills o’erflow: Black Lethe shall oblivion leave, Before my Celia I deceive. Love shall his bow and shafts lay by, And Venus’ doves want wings to fly: The sun refuse to show his light, And day shall then be turned to night; And in that night no star appear, Whene’er I leave my Celia dear. Love shall no more inhabit Earth, Nor lovers more shall love for worth; Nor joy above in Heaven dwell, Nor pain torment poor souls in hell: Grim Death no more shall horrid prove, Whene’er I leave bright Celia’s love.

Bist du bei mir, geh ich mit Freuden zum Sterben und zu meiner Ruh. Ach, wie vergnügt wär so mein Ende, es drückten deine schönen Hände mir die getreuen Augen zu. If you are with me, then I will go gladly to death and to my rest. Ah, what a delightful end for me, if your lovely hands close my faithful eyes.

Susanna faire some time assaulted was, by two old men, desiring their delight: whose false entent they thought to bring to passe, if not by tender love, by force & might, To whom she said, if I your sute denye, you will mee falsely accuse, and make mee die. And if I graunt to that which you request, my chastitie shall then deflouered bee, which is so deer to mee, that I detest my lyfe, if it beerefted bee from mee, And rather would I dye of mine accord, ten thousand times, than once offend the Lord.

If that a Sinners sighes be Angels foode, Or that repentant teares be Angels wine, Accept O Lord in this most pensiue moode, These hearty sighes and dolefull plaints of mine. That went with Peter forth most sinfully, But not as Peter did, weepe [most] bitterly. [Thy mercie greater is then any sinne, thy greatnesse non can ever comprehend: wherefore O Lord, let mee thy mercie winne, whose glorious name no time can ever end: wherefore I say all prayse belongs to thee, whom I beseech bee mercifull to mee.] Additional verse from William Byrd, Psalmes, Sonets, & songs of sadnes and pietie (London, 1588), no.30

STABAT MATER DOLOROSA Stabat Mater dolorosa Juxta crucem lacrimosa Dum pendebat filius. Cuius animam gementem Contristatam et dolentem. pertransivit gladius. O quam tristis et afflicta. Fuit illa benedicta. Mater unigeniti. Que mœrebat et dolebat. Et tremebat dum videbat. Nati pœnas incliti. Quis est homo qui non fleret Christi matrem si videret. In tanto supplicio? Quis non posset contristari Piam matrem contemplari. Dolentem cum Filio? Pro peccatis suæ gentis Vidit Ihesum in tormentis. Et flagellis subditum. Vidit suum dulcem natum morientem desolatum. Dum emisit spiritum. Eya mater fons amoris. Me sentire vim doloris. Fac ut tecum lugeam. Fac ut ardeat cor meum. In amando Christum deum. Ut sibi complaceam. Sancta Mater istud agas. Crucifixi fige plagas cordi meo valide. Tui nati vulnerati. Tam dignantis pro me pati. Pœnas mecum dívide. Fac me vere tecum flere. Crucifixo condolere. Donec ego vixero. Juxta crucem tecum stare. Te libenter sociare. In planctu desidero. Virgo virginum præclara. Mihi iam non sis amara Fac me tecum plangere. Fac ut portem Christi mortem. Passionis eius sortem. Et plagas recolere. Fac me plagis vulnerari. Cruce hac inebriari. Ob amorem filii. Inflammatus et accensus. Per te Virgo sim defensus in die iudicii. Fac me cruce custodiri. Morte Christi præmuniri. Confuneri gratia. Quando corpus morietur. Fac ut anime donetur. Paradisi gloria. Amen. English translation by Donna Stewart: The grieving Mother stood weeping beside the cross where her son was hanging. His groans and suffering pierced her soul like a sword. O how sad and afflicted was that blessed Mother of the only-begotten! How worthy, and how grieved, Shuddering to see the torment of her glorious child. Who would not weep to see the mother of Christ in such torture? Who could not feel compassion at witnessing the suffering of a devoted mother with her son? She saw Jesus in torment, submitting to the scourge. For the sins of his people. She beheld her sweet offspring dying, forsaken, breathing his last. O Mother, fountain of love, make me feel the power of your anguish, that I may grieve with you. Make my heart burn with the love of Christ that I might be pleasing to God. Holy Mother, fix the wounds of the Crucified powerfully into my heart, that I may share the pain of your wounded son, who so deigned to suffer for me. Let me truly weep with you, to suffer with the Crucified for as long as I live This is my desire: to stand beside the cross with you, and to join you in your lamenting. Illustrious Virgin of virgins, be not bitter with me, Make me mourn with you Make me bear Christ’s death, share his Passion, and remember His wounds Let me be wounded by his wounds. Drench me in the blood of the cross Enkindle and inflame me for the sake of your son’s love Defend me, Virgin, on the day of judgement. Let me be shielded by the cross, Safeguarded by Christ’s death, Cherished by grace. When my body dies, Grant my soul the glory of Paradise. Amen.

The Sypres curten of the night is spread, And ouer all a silent dewe is cast, The weaker cares by sleepe are conquered, But I alone with hidious griefe, agast. In spite of Morpheus charmes a watch doe keepe Ouer mine eies to banish carelesse sleepe. Yet oft my trembling eyes through faintnes close, And then the Mappe of hell before me stands, Which Ghosts doe see, and I am one of those, Ordain'd to pine in sorrowes endles bands, Since from my wretched soule all hopes are reft, And now no cause of life to me is left. Griefe ceaze my soule, for that will still endure, When my cras'd bodie is consum'd and gone, Beare it to thy blacke denne, there keepe it sure, Where thou ten thousand soules doest tyre vpon, Yet all doe not affoord such foode to thee, As this poore one, the worser part of mee.

Original text Unquiet thoughts your civill slaughter stint, And wrap your wrongs within a pensive heart: And you my tongue that maks my mouth a minte, And stamps my thoughts to coyne them words by arte: Be still for if you ever doo the like, Ile cut the string, that maks the hammer strike. But what can staie my thoughts they may not start, Or put my tongue in durance for to dye? When as these eies the keyes of mouth and harte Open the locke where all my love doth lye; Ile seale them up within their lids for ever, So thoughts and words, and looks shall dye together. How shall I then gaze on my mistresse eies? My thoughts must have som vent els hart wil break, My tongue would rust as in my mouth it lies If eyes and thoughts were free and that not speake. Speake then and tell the passions of desire Which turns mine eies to floods, my thoghts to fire. Paraphrase by David Hill You disturbing, rebellious thoughts that fight and kill inside my head: cease, for I must keep the wrongs (that have been done to me) in my heart, and consider them. And you, my tongue, who mints words out of my thoughts in my mouth, by giving voice to them, just as a coiner stamps blank metal into coins, you must be silent. But if you cannot be still, I must cut the string that controls your ‘minting’. But what can stop these thoughts which have put my tongue under sentence of death? My eyes (which are the keys to the locks of my mouth and my heart), open both, revealing my unrequited longing to my mistress. Perhaps I should therefore seal up my eyes (rather than punish my tongue), so that my thoughts, words and looks are all killed at the same time, by being withheld from her? But, if I were blinded, how could I then gaze at my mistress’ eyes? I must have some release for my thoughts, or my heart will break. My tongue would simply seize up, whilst it lies in my mouth, were I not able use my voice when my eyes and thoughts remained free and uncontrolled. Therefore I’ll be brave. I’ll speak to my mistress, and explain to her my passionate and painful desire, which causes my eyes to weep floods, and my thoughts to burn like fire.