Now I see thy looks were feigned (Thomas Ford): Difference between revisions
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Revision as of 17:54, 4 August 2016
Music files
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File details |
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- CPDL #26018:
- Editor: James Gibb (submitted 2012-04-25). Score information: A4, 2 pages, 18 kB Copyright: CPDL
- Edition notes: Reformatting of #14914, with corrections.
- CPDL #14914:
(NoteWorthy Composer)
- Editor: Brian Russell (submitted 2007-09-10). Score information: A4, 2 pages, 21 kB Copyright: CPDL
- Edition notes: NoteWorthy Composer file may be viewed and printed with NoteWorthy Composer Viewer.
Possible error(s) identified. See the discussion page for full description.
- CPDL #01462: Finale 1998
- Editor: Suzi Nassen Stefl (submitted 2000-10-08). Score information: Letter, 2 pages, 44 kB Copyright: CPDL
- Edition notes: Finale file is zipped.
General Information
Title: Now I see thy looks were feigned
Composer: Thomas Ford
Number of voices: 4vv Voicing: SATB
Genre: Secular, Madrigal
Language: English
Instruments: A cappella
Published:
Description:
External websites:
Original text and translations
English text
Now I see thy looks were feigned,
Quickly lost and quickly gained.
Soft thy skin like wool of wethers,
Heart unconstant, light as feathers.
Tongue untrusty, subtle-sighted,
Wanton will with change delighted.
R.: Siren pleasant, foe to reason,
Cupid plague thee for thy treason.
Of thine eye I made my mirror,
From thy beauty came my error;
All thy words I counted witty,
All thy sighs I deemed pity;
Thy false tears that me aggrieved
First of all my trust deceived.
R.
Feign'd acceptance when I asked,
Lovely words with cunning masked,
Holy vows but heart unholy
Wretched man! my trust was folly.
Lily-white and pretty winking,
Solemn vows, but sorry thinking.
R.
Now I see, O seemly cruel,
Others warm them at my fuel.
Wit shall guide me in this durance
Since in love is no assurance.
Change thy pasture, take thy pleasure,
Beauty is a fading treasure.
R.
Prime youth lasts not, age will follow,
And make white those tresses yellow;
Wrinkled face for looks delightful
Shall acquaint the dame despiteful;
And when time shall date thy glory
Then too late thou wilt be sorry.
R.