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The heath this night must be my bed

Language: English

The heath this night must be my bed,
The bracken curtain for my head,
My lullaby the warder's tread,
  Far, far, from love and thee, Mary;
To-morrow eve, more stilly laid,
My couch may be my bloody plaid,
My vesper song, thy wail, sweet maid!
  It will not waken me, Mary!

I may not, dare not, fancy now
The grief that clouds thy lovely brow,
I dare not think upon thy vow,
  And all it promised me, Mary.
No fond regret must Norman know;
When bursts Clan-Alpine on the foe,
His heart must be like bended bow,
  His foot like arrow free, Mary.

A time will come with feeling fraught!
For, if I fall in battle fought,
They hapless lover's dying thought
  Shall be a thought on thee, Mary.
And if returned from conquered foes,
How blithely will the evening close,
How sweet the linnet sing repose,
  To my young bride and me, Mary!


Translation(s): GER ITA

List of language codes

About the headline (FAQ)

Confirmed with The Lady of the Lake. A Poem. By Walter Scott, Esq. The fourth edition. Edinburgh: Printed for John Ballantyne and Co. Edinburgh; and Longman, Hurst, Rees, Orme, and Brown, and W. Miller, London. 1810, pages 127-128.


Submitted by Emily Ezust [Administrator] and Peter Rastl [Guest Editor]

Authorship

Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive)

Settings in other languages, adaptations, or excerpts:

Other available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):

  • ITA Italian (Italiano) (Ferdinando Albeggiani) , "Il canto di Norman", copyright © 2010, (re)printed on this website with kind permission


Text added to the website: 2003-11-07.
Last modified: 2018-04-19 09:29:58
Line count: 24
Word count: 154

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Il canto di Norman

Language: Italian (Italiano) after the English

Presto scenderà la notte, potrò giacere in riposo.
La brughiera mi farà da giaciglio, la felce da coperta.
Il passo della sentinella mi cullerà nel sonno:
Ah, Maria, amor mio, mi tocca di starti lontano, lontano!
E domani verrà la sera, verrà un tetro momento,
e forse sarà mio giaciglio un mantello rosso sangue,
muto il mio canto serale, e tu ti trascinerai angosciata e cupa.
Maria, il tuo canto di morte non potrà destarmi.

Dovrei dunque separarmi da te, mia bella e dolce sposa?
Quanto mi chiamerai, con quanta forza piangerai!
Ah, non posso pensare al tuo crudo dolore,
non posso pensare al tuo cuore devoto .
No, Norman non può nutrire teneri rimpianti,
quando il clan Alpine sul nemico irrompe come tempesta di grandine;
resti audace il suo cuore e come un arco teso
e il suo piede, Maria, veloce e mobile come un dardo.

Tempo forse verrà in cui il sole non splenderà più,
al tuo Norman ti avvicinerai barcollando, e piangeranno i tuoi occhi.
Ma se cadrò in battaglia, preso da spasimi di morte,
sappi, Maria, che sarà per te il mio ultimo respiro,
ma se tornerò vittorioso dopo un fiero combattere
accoglieremo felici la notte silenziosa,
pronto il giaciglio, dolce sarà il riposo.
E per noi, Maria, il fanello intonerà un canto nuziale!


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Authorship

  • Translation from English to Italian (Italiano) copyright © 2010 by Ferdinando Albeggiani, (re)printed on this website with kind permission. To reprint and distribute this author's work for concert programs, CD booklets, etc., you may ask the copyright-holder(s) directly or ask us; we are authorized to grant permission on their behalf. Please provide the translator's name when contacting us.

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Based on

 

Text added to the website: 2010-03-13.
Last modified: 2014-06-16 10:03:37
Line count: 24
Word count: 218