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The forward violet thus did I chide:
Sweet thief, whence didst thou steal thy sweet that smells,
If not from my love's breath? The purple pride
Which on thy soft cheek for complexion dwells
In my love's veins thou hast too grossly dy'd.
The lily I condemned for thy hand,
And buds of marjoram had stol'n thy hair;
The roses fearfully on thorns did stand,
One blushing shame, another white despair;
A third, nor red nor white, had stol'n of both,
And to his robbery had annex'd thy breath;
But, for his theft, in pride of all his growth
A vengeful canker eat him up to death.
More flowers I noted, yet I none could see,
But sweet, or colour it had stol'n from thee.
About the headline (FAQ)
Note that this "sonnet" has fifteen lines.Text Authorship:
- by William Shakespeare (1564 - 1616), no title, appears in Sonnets, no. 99 [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 Richard Simpson (1820 - 1876), "Sonnet XCIX", 1864 [ medium voice or high voice and piano ] [sung text not yet checked]
Settings in other languages, adaptations, or excerpts:
- Also set in Russian (Русский), a translation by Nikolay Vasilyevich Gerbel (1827 - 1883) , no title ; composed by Mikhail Mikhailovich Ippolitov-Ivanov.
Other available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):
- FRE French (Français) (François-Victor Hugo) , no title, appears in Sonnets de Shakespeare, no. 99, first published 1857
- ITA Italian (Italiano) (Ferdinando Albeggiani) , copyright © 2025, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]
This text was added to the website: 2010-08-12
Line count: 15
Word count: 125
Così ho mosso un rimprovero alla violetta in fiore: tu, dolce ladra, a chi rubasti il tuo aroma se non dal fiato dell’amor mio? E il superbo colore, che nei tuoi delicati petali dimora, se non dalla vena del mio amore, dove hai ampiamente intinto? Il giglio, che imita la tua mano, pure accuso e la maggiorana, ladra del colore sulla tua chioma dipinto; e le rose, timorose sul loro gambo spinoso, una color rosso vergogna, un’altra color bianco sgomento, una terza né rossa né bianca rubò i due colori insieme il tuo respiro al suo furto aggiungendo, ma per quel saccheggio, nel pieno della fioritura, un bruco vendicativo a morte la divora. Tanti altri fiori ho visto ma non ho trovato un fiore che profumo e colore non ti abbia già rubato.
About the headline (FAQ)
Text Authorship:
- Translation from English to Italian (Italiano) copyright © 2025 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:
- a text in English by William Shakespeare (1564 - 1616), no title, appears in Sonnets, no. 99
This text was added to the website: 2025-07-16
Line count: 15
Word count: 133