A shepherd in a shade his plaining made (John Dowland)

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Editor: Brian Russell (submitted 2008-05-06).   Score information: A4, 3 pages, 27 kB   Copyright: CPDL
Edition notes: Nwc.png
Editor: Daniel Harmer (submitted 2006-06-13).   Score information: Letter, 4 pages, 89 kB   Copyright: CPDL
Edition notes:
  • CPDL #03944:  Network.png PDF and MIDI files
Editor: Eva Toller (submitted 2002-08-23).   Score information: A4, 6 pages, 82 kB   Copyright: Personal
Edition notes: Arranged for TTBB. MIDI files available for each part.
  • CPDL #00990:  Network.png PDF, MIDI and LilyPond files
Editor: Laura Conrad (submitted 2000-06-21).   Score information: A4, 5 pages, 90 kB   Copyright: GnuGPL
Edition notes: in partbook format
  • CPDL #00113:  Icon_pdf.gif 
Editor: Frank Nordberg (submitted 1999-10-14).   Score information: A4, 5 pages, 144 kB   Copyright: CPDL
Edition notes:

General Information

Title: A Sheperd in a shade his plaining made
Composer: John Dowland

Number of voices: 4vv   Voicings: SATB or TTBB

Genre: SecularMadrigal

Language: English
Instruments: a cappella
Published: 1600

Description: No. XVII from Second Book of Songs or Ayres (1600)

External websites:

Original text and translations

English.png English text

A shepherd in a shade,
his plaining made,
of love and lovers wrong,
Unto the fairest lasse,
that trode on grasse,
and thus began his song.

Refrain

Restore, restore my hart againe,
Which love by thy sweet looks hath slaine,
Least that inforst by your distaine,
I sing, fie fie on love,
it is a foolish thing
Since love and fortune will,
I honour still,
your faire and lovely eye,
What conquest will it be,
Sweet nymph, for thee,
If I for sorrow dye.

Refrain

Restore, restore my hart againe,
Which love by thy sweet looks hath slaine,
Least that inforst by your distaine,
I sing, fie fie on love,
it is a foolish thing
My hart where have you laid
O cruell maide,
To kill when you might save,
Why have yee cast it forth
as nothing worth,
Without a tombe or grave.

Refrain

O let it bee intombed and lye,
In your sweet minde and memorie,
Least I resound on every warbling string,
Fye fye on love
that is a foolish thing.