Tuning Up©Daniel Merriam
The Lutenist's Sorrow
Forgive this minor tuning
I did not see you here
I'm rehearsing Dowland
A master without peer
The lords keep me so busy
Singing simple songs
Locally crafted ditties
That thrill the courtly throngs
Their ears for finer music
Are challenged, at their best
They frown on great composers
Whose music is my quest
I must play the witty fool
That plucks a happy tune
I never show my sorrow
No love songs may I croon
Here I sit before the dusk
To seek a higher will
Pay homage to the great one
And prove my bardic skill
Could you please indulge me
I have one to try
That’s worthy of Orpheus
And always makes me cry
Sit and hear the poetry
Your patronage is rare
Your eyes reveal a kindness
Your blush shows that you care
Breathe with me a sweeter ayre
Feel the sacred notes
Let a shiver down your spine
And hear a heart that dotes
Come away, come sweet love
The golden morning breaks
All the earth, all the air
Of love and pleasure speaks...
***
Theo J. van Joolen©2011
***
Inspired by "Tuning Up" by Daniel Merriam
Animazing Gallery
***
"Come away, come sweet love" [anon.] is from John Dowland's The First Book of Ayres [1597]. Here is the entire poem:
Come away, come sweet love,
The golden morning breaks.
All the earth, all the air
Of love and pleasure speaks:
Teach thine arms to embrace,
And sweet rosy lips to kiss,
And mix our souls in mutual bliss,
Eyes were made for beauty's grace,
Viewing, ruing love's long pain
Procured by beauty's rude disdain.
Come away, come sweet love,
The golden morning wastes,
While the sun from his sphere
His fiery arrows casts,
Making all the shadows fly,
Playing, Staying in the grove
To entertain the stealth of love.
Thither, sweet love, let us hie,
Flying, dying in desire
Winged with sweet hopes and heavenly fire
Come away, come sweet love,
Do not in vain adorn
Beauty's grace, that should rise
Like to the naked morn.
Lilies on the riverside
And the fair Cyprian flowers new blown
Desire no beauties but their own,
Ornament is nurse of pride,
Pleasure, measure love's delight.
Haste then, sweet love, our wished flight!
I did not see you here
I'm rehearsing Dowland
A master without peer
The lords keep me so busy
Singing simple songs
Locally crafted ditties
That thrill the courtly throngs
Their ears for finer music
Are challenged, at their best
They frown on great composers
Whose music is my quest
I must play the witty fool
That plucks a happy tune
I never show my sorrow
No love songs may I croon
Here I sit before the dusk
To seek a higher will
Pay homage to the great one
And prove my bardic skill
Could you please indulge me
I have one to try
That’s worthy of Orpheus
And always makes me cry
Sit and hear the poetry
Your patronage is rare
Your eyes reveal a kindness
Your blush shows that you care
Breathe with me a sweeter ayre
Feel the sacred notes
Let a shiver down your spine
And hear a heart that dotes
Come away, come sweet love
The golden morning breaks
All the earth, all the air
Of love and pleasure speaks...
***
Theo J. van Joolen©2011
***
Inspired by "Tuning Up" by Daniel Merriam
Animazing Gallery
***
"Come away, come sweet love" [anon.] is from John Dowland's The First Book of Ayres [1597]. Here is the entire poem:
Come away, come sweet love,
The golden morning breaks.
All the earth, all the air
Of love and pleasure speaks:
Teach thine arms to embrace,
And sweet rosy lips to kiss,
And mix our souls in mutual bliss,
Eyes were made for beauty's grace,
Viewing, ruing love's long pain
Procured by beauty's rude disdain.
Come away, come sweet love,
The golden morning wastes,
While the sun from his sphere
His fiery arrows casts,
Making all the shadows fly,
Playing, Staying in the grove
To entertain the stealth of love.
Thither, sweet love, let us hie,
Flying, dying in desire
Winged with sweet hopes and heavenly fire
Come away, come sweet love,
Do not in vain adorn
Beauty's grace, that should rise
Like to the naked morn.
Lilies on the riverside
And the fair Cyprian flowers new blown
Desire no beauties but their own,
Ornament is nurse of pride,
Pleasure, measure love's delight.
Haste then, sweet love, our wished flight!
