by Percy Bysshe Shelley (1792 - 1822)
Translation by Giacomo Zanella (1820 - 1888)
Hail to thee, blithe Spirit!
Language: English
Hail to thee, blithe Spirit! Bird thou never wert - That from Heaven or near itor near it Pourest thy full heart In profuse strains of unpremeditated art. Higher still and higher From the earth thou springest, Like a cloud of fire; The blue deep thou wingest, And singing still dost soar, and soaring ever singest. In the golden lightning Of the sunken sun, O'er which clouds are bright'ning, Thou dost float and run, Like an unbodied joy whose race is just begun. The pale purple even Melts around thy flight; Like a star of Heaven, In the broad daylight Thou art unseen, but yet I hear thy shrill delight - Keen as are the arrows Of that silver sphere Whose intense lamp narrows In the white dawn clear, Until we hardly see, we feel that it is there. All the earth and air With thy voice is loud, As, when night is bare, From one lonely cloud The moon rains out her beams, and Heaven is overflowed. What thou art we know not; What is most like thee? From rainbow clouds there flow not Drops so bright to see, As from thy presence showers a rain of melody: - Like a Poet hidden In the light of thought, Singing hymns unbidden, Till the world is wrought To sympathy with hopes and fears it heeded not: Like a high-born maiden In a palace-tower, Soothing her love-laden Soul in secret hour With music sweet as love, which overflows her bower: Like a glow-worm golden In a dell of dew, Scattering unbeholden Its aërial hue Among the flowers and grass which screen it from the view: Like a rose embowered In its own green leaves, By warm winds deflowered, Till the scent it gives Makes faint with too much sweet these heavy-wingèd thieves: Sound of vernal showers On the twinkling grass, Rain-awakened flowers - All that ever was Joyous and clear and fresh - thy music doth surpass. Teach us, Sprite or Bird, What sweet thoughts are thine: I have never heard Praise of love or wine That panted forth a flood of rapture so divine. Chorus hymeneal, Or triumphal chant, Matched with thine would be all but an empty vaunt - A thing wherein we feel there is some hidden want. What objects are the fountains Of thy happy strain? What fields, or waves, or mountains? What shapes of sky or plain? What love of thine own kind? what ignorance of pain? With thy clear keen joyance Languor cannot be: Shadow of annoyance Never came near thee: Thou lovest, but ne'er knew love's sad satiety. Waking or asleep, Thou of death must deem Things more true and deep Than we mortals dream, Or how could thy notes flow in such a crystal stream? We look before and after, And pine for what is not: Our sincerest laughter With some pain is fraught; Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought. Yet, if we could scorn Hate and pride and fear, If we were things born Not to shed a tear, I know not how thy joy we ever should come near. Better than all measures Of delightful sound, Better than all treasures That in books are found, Thy skill to poet were, thou scorner of the ground! Teach me half the gladness That thy brain must know; Such harmonious madness From my lips would flow, The world should listen then, as I am listening now.
R. Still sets stanzas 1, 8, 12-13
About the headline (FAQ)
Authorship:
- by Percy Bysshe Shelley (1792 - 1822), "Ode to a Skylark" [author's text checked 1 time against a primary source]
Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive):
- by Thomas Anderton (1836 - 1903), "The skylark", published 1871 [sung text not yet checked]
- by Margery Anthea Baird , "To a skylark", 1953-4 [ baritone, 4-part chorus, and small orchestra ] [sung text not yet checked]
- by Siegfried Benkman , "To a skylark", published 1937 [sung text not yet checked]
- by Frederic Field Bullard (1864 - 1904), "To a skylark", op. 17 no. 1, published 1894, from Four Poems by Shelley Set to Lyric Music, no. 1 [sung text not yet checked]
- by Elizabeth Covell , "To a skylark", 1933 [sung text not yet checked]
- by Ellen Dickson (1819 - 1878), as Dolores, "The Skylark", published 1861 [ voice and piano ], London [sung text not yet checked]
- by Charles Villiers Stanford, Sir (1852 - 1924), "Ode to the Skylark", op. 14 (Six Songs) no. 2, published 1882 [ voice and piano ] [sung text not yet checked]
- by Robert Still (1910 - 1971), "Ode to a Skylark", stanzas 1,8,12-13 [sung text checked 1 time]
Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):
- CZE Czech (Čeština) (Jaroslav Vrchlický) , "Skřivánkovi", Prague, J. Otto, first published 1901
- ITA Italian (Italiano) (Giacomo Zanella) , "Ad una allodola", written 1868
- SPA Spanish (Español) (Miguel Antonio Caro) , "La alondra", appears in Traducciones poéticas, Bogotá, Librería Americana, calle XIV, n. 77, 79, first published 1889
Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]
This text was added to the website: 2004-05-02
Line count: 105
Word count: 577
Ad una allodola
Language: Italian (Italiano)  after the English
Salute a te, salute, Volatrice gentil, che dai profondi Cieli di note argute Non meditati effondi Torrenti di che l’alto etere inondi! Diritta al ciel tu sali, Come di foco nuvoletta, e pendi; Rotata indi sull’ali L’immenso azzurro fendi Ed a’ tuoi regni nuovamente ascendi. Nel tremolo baleno, Che da ponente di dorata lista Solca alle nubi il seno, Tu navighi non vista, Navighi d’altri cieli alla conquista. Del dì, che langue e manca, Nelle diffuse porpore ravvolta, Come una stella imbianca Ne’ rai del dì sepolta, Nessun ti vede e ciaschedun ti ascolta. I luminosi dardi Va celando la stella a poco a poco, Finchè si toglie a’ guardi; Ma se del sol nel foco Nessun la vede, ognun ne addita il loco. Pieni son terra e cielo De’ tuoi concenti; qual se d’importuna Nube squarciando il velo, Di subito la bruna Immensità d’argento empia la luna. Chi sei? chi ti somiglia? Dolci così dell’iride i colori Non piovono alle ciglia, Come de’ tuoi canori Gorgheggi l’armonia piove sui cori. Sei come vate ascoso Nell’etereo splendor de’ suoi pensieri, Che d’inno armonïoso Lusinga e prigionieri Fassi i mortali al suo dolor stranieri; Come regal donzella In alta torre, che cantando affida Alla segreta cella, Prima che il duol l’uccida, L’occulta fiamma che nell’alma annida; Come un insetto d’oro, Che sotto l’ombra di conserte fronde Tesse sottil lavoro, Che fra le rubiconde Urne de’ fiori e le rugiade asconde; Come solinga rosa, Che il profumato calice discioglie All’aura ingiurïosa, Che coll’odor le foglie Ad una ad una nel passar le toglie. Di frondi tremolio, D’erbe bisbiglio, venticel d’aprile, Di piogge mormorio, Quanto è quaggiù gentile, Quanto dolce ad udir passa il tuo stile. Dinne, leggiadro spirto, Quale dolcezza i tuoi concenti ispira? Fra colmi nappi e mirto Sì dolce non sospira Notturno accordo d’amorosa lira. Cori d’allegro imene, O di trionfo olimpiche canzoni Accanto alle serene Note, che disprigioni Dall’ardente tuo cor, son freddi suoni. A che nascose fonti L’onda beata attingi? a che pianure? A che marine o monti? Dolci d’amor le cure Sempre ti son? non provi odî e paure? Al tuo gioir commista Esser doglia non può: de’ suoi languori Te noia non attrista; Canti i tuoi lieti amori, Ma dell’amor gli occulti tedî ignori. Sia che tu vegli o dorma, Scerner la morte a te non si disdice In più benigna forma, Che a noi sognar non lice; O sì vispa saresti e sì felice? Trepidi innanzi, indietro Noi volgiam le pupille: al desco accanto Veggiam starci il ferètro; E se lo bagna il pianto, Esce più dolce dalle labbra il canto. Pur se dolore e noia Fossero all’uman core affetti ignoti, Dalla serena gioia In cui t’immergi e nuoti, Parmi che noi saremmo ancor remoti. Quanti natura ed arte Han lieti suoni: quanti fior gl’ingegni Poser nell’auree carte, Tu vinci, tu che sdegni La terra ed ardui voli al vate insegni. Prestami i tuoi concenti! Tali in divino rapimento immerso Diffonderò torrenti Di suon, che l’universo Udrammi, come io muto odo il tuo verso.
Confirmed with Versi di Giacomo Zanella, Volume Unico, Firenze: G. Barbèra, 1868.
Authorship:
- by Giacomo Zanella (1820 - 1888), "Ad una allodola", written 1868 [author's text checked 1 time against a primary source]
Based on:
- a text in English by Percy Bysshe Shelley (1792 - 1822), "Ode to a Skylark"
Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive):
- [ None yet in the database ]
Researcher for this page: Andrew Schneider [Guest Editor]
This text was added to the website: 2019-07-26
Line count: 105
Word count: 510