The Willow Song
from My Lord of Oxenford's Maske: Edward de Vere and his circle by Mignarda
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about
British Mus. Add. ms. 15117
The Willow Song as quoted in Shakespeare's "Othello", is famously known as Desdemona's lament. The willow, a symbol of forsaken love, was part of the imagery associated with Elizabethan melancholy, and the text to the song describes in detail down to the typical posture of a melancholy lover.
Mignarda's version is based on the source found in the British Library (additional manuscript 15117), and our performance is unique in that the triple-time rhythm is gently pulsed and insistently regular, rather than the free-form rhythmic interpretation typical to performances of this song.
While we perform the song from the original version with its pragmatic spelling, the modernized lyrics here are modified from that found in F. W. Sternfeld, Music in Shakespearean Tragedy, Routledge and Kegan Paul, London, 1963, pp. 32-33.
The Willow Song as quoted in Shakespeare's "Othello", is famously known as Desdemona's lament. The willow, a symbol of forsaken love, was part of the imagery associated with Elizabethan melancholy, and the text to the song describes in detail down to the typical posture of a melancholy lover.
Mignarda's version is based on the source found in the British Library (additional manuscript 15117), and our performance is unique in that the triple-time rhythm is gently pulsed and insistently regular, rather than the free-form rhythmic interpretation typical to performances of this song.
While we perform the song from the original version with its pragmatic spelling, the modernized lyrics here are modified from that found in F. W. Sternfeld, Music in Shakespearean Tragedy, Routledge and Kegan Paul, London, 1963, pp. 32-33.
lyrics
Text from British Library additional manuscript 15117:
The poor soul sat sighing by a sycamore tree,
Sing willow, willow, willow;
With his hand in his bosom and his head upon his knee,
O willow, willow, willow, willow;
O willow, willow, willow, willow
Shall be my garland.
Sing all a green willow;
Willow, willow willow,
Ay me, the green willow
Must be my garland.
He sighed in his singing, and made a great moan,
Sing willow, willow, willow;
I am dead to all pleasure, my true love she is gone,
O willow, willow, willow, willow;
O willow, willow, willow, willow
Shall be my garland.
The fresh streams ran by him and murmured his moans,
Sing willow, willow, willow;
His salt tears fell from him, and softened the stones,
O willow, willow, willow, willow;
O willow, willow, willow, willow
Shall be my garland.
Come all you forsaken and mourn you with me,
Sing willow, willow, willow;
Who speaks of a false love, mine’s falser yet than she,
O willow, willow, willow, willow;
O willow, willow, willow, willow
Shall be my garland.
Let love no more boast in her palace nor bower,
Sing willow, willow, willow;
It buds, but it blasteth ere it be a flower,
O willow, willow, willow, willow;
O willow, willow, willow, willow
Shall be my garland.
Though fair and more false, I die with thy wound,
Sing willow, willow, willow;
Thou hast lost the truest lover that goes upon the ground,
O willow, willow, willow, willow;
O willow, willow, willow, willow
Shall be my garland.
Let nobody chide her, her scorns I approve,
Sing willow, willow, willow;
She was born to be false, and I to die for her love,
O willow, willow, willow, willow;
O willow, willow, willow, willow
Shall be my garland.
Take this for my farewell and latest adieu,
Sing willow, willow, willow;
Write this on my tomb, that in love I was true,
O willow, willow, willow, willow;
O willow, willow, willow, willow
Shall be my garland.
The poor soul sat sighing by a sycamore tree,
Sing willow, willow, willow;
With his hand in his bosom and his head upon his knee,
O willow, willow, willow, willow;
O willow, willow, willow, willow
Shall be my garland.
Sing all a green willow;
Willow, willow willow,
Ay me, the green willow
Must be my garland.
He sighed in his singing, and made a great moan,
Sing willow, willow, willow;
I am dead to all pleasure, my true love she is gone,
O willow, willow, willow, willow;
O willow, willow, willow, willow
Shall be my garland.
The fresh streams ran by him and murmured his moans,
Sing willow, willow, willow;
His salt tears fell from him, and softened the stones,
O willow, willow, willow, willow;
O willow, willow, willow, willow
Shall be my garland.
Come all you forsaken and mourn you with me,
Sing willow, willow, willow;
Who speaks of a false love, mine’s falser yet than she,
O willow, willow, willow, willow;
O willow, willow, willow, willow
Shall be my garland.
Let love no more boast in her palace nor bower,
Sing willow, willow, willow;
It buds, but it blasteth ere it be a flower,
O willow, willow, willow, willow;
O willow, willow, willow, willow
Shall be my garland.
Though fair and more false, I die with thy wound,
Sing willow, willow, willow;
Thou hast lost the truest lover that goes upon the ground,
O willow, willow, willow, willow;
O willow, willow, willow, willow
Shall be my garland.
Let nobody chide her, her scorns I approve,
Sing willow, willow, willow;
She was born to be false, and I to die for her love,
O willow, willow, willow, willow;
O willow, willow, willow, willow
Shall be my garland.
Take this for my farewell and latest adieu,
Sing willow, willow, willow;
Write this on my tomb, that in love I was true,
O willow, willow, willow, willow;
O willow, willow, willow, willow
Shall be my garland.
credits
from My Lord of Oxenford's Maske: Edward de Vere and his circle,
released November 1, 2006
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all rights reserved
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about
Mignarda Cleveland Heights, Ohio
Mignarda specializes in thoughtful programming illuminating the vibrant mingling of renaissance music & poetry. Noted for awakening modern audiences to an appreciation for historical music, their work encompasses concertizing, teaching & recording, with 17 critically-acclaimed CDs, a series of 16 music editions, scholarly articles, reviews and the internationally-popular blog, Unquiet Thoughts. ... more
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