Tempro la cetra (Claudio Monteverdi)

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• (Posted 2014-06-15)  CPDL #32265:       

Instrumental parts:   Score information: A4, 10 pages, 136 kB   Copyright: CPDL

Editor: Peter Rottländer (submitted 2014-06-15).   Score information: A4, 6 pages, 131 kB   Copyright: CPDL

Edition notes:

• (Posted 2009-03-14)  CPDL #19046:    (MIDI)  

Editor: Björn Sothmann (submitted 2009-03-14).   Score information: A4, 6 pages, 502 kB   Copyright: CC BY-SA 3.0 Unported

Edition notes:

• (Posted 2004-03-26)  CPDL #06855:      (Sibelius 2)

Editor: Steven Langley Guy (submitted 2004-03-26).   Score information: A4, 15 pages, 160 kB   Copyright: Personal

Edition notes:

General Information

Title: Tempro la cetra
Composer: Claudio Monteverdi
Lyricist: Giambattista Marino

Number of voices: 1v   Voicing: Tenor solo

Genre: Secular, Madrigal

Language: Italian
Instruments: strings, basso continuo

First published: 1619 in Concerto: settimo libro de madrigali (Claudio Monteverdi), no. 1
Description: 

Original text and translations

Italian text Tempro la cetra, e per cantar gli onori di Marte alzo talor lo stil e i carmi. Ma invan la tento e impossibil parmi ch'ella già mai risoni altro ch'amore. Così pur tra l'arene e pur tra' fiori note amorose Amor torna a dettarmi, né vuol ch'io prend' ancora a cantar d'armi, se non di quelle, ond'egli impiaga i cori. Or umil plettro a i rozzi accenti indegni, musa, qual dianzi, accorda, in fin ch'al canto de la tromba sublime il Ciel ti degni. Riedi a i teneri scherzi, e dolce intanto lo Dio guerrier, temprando i feri sdegni, in grembo a Citerea dorma al tuo canto.

English translation I tune my lyre, and to sing the praises of Mars, elevate the tone of my style and songs; but I strum her in vain, and cannot conceive that she will ever quiver for ought but love. Hence in the arena or in the bower, nought but amorous airs does Love dictate, nor does she wish that I should sing of weapons save those that wound the heart. The lowly plectrum and the coarse undignified inflections, oh Muse, tune them, as erstwhile you did, that by the song of the sublime Lyre, Heaven deems you worthy at last. Return to tender trifles: that, meanwhile, the warrior god, tempering his fierce wrath, may sleep in Venus’ lap, lulled by your song