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Amor ch'attendi, Amor che fai? Su, che non prendi Gli strali omai; Amor vendetta, Amor saetta Quel cor ch'altero Sdegna 'l tuo impero. Ò pompa, ò gloria, Ò spoglie altere, Nobil vittoria S'Amor la fere; Amor ardisci, Amor ferisci, Amor et odi Qual havrai lodi. Amor possente Amor cortese Dirà la gente Pur arse e prese Quella crudele, Che, di querele Vaga, e di pianti, Schernia gli amanti. Quel cor superbo Langue e sospira, Quel viso acerbo Pietate spira. Fatti duoi fiumi Quei crudi lumi, Pur versan fore Pianto d'amore. Se cruda e ria Negò mercede, Humile e pia Mercede hor chiede. Ò face, ò strale, Alta immortale, Che fia che scampi S'il ghiaccio avvampi. Dall'alto cielo Fulmina Giove, L'Arcier di Delo Saette piove, Ma lo stral d'oro S'orni d'alloro Che di possanza Ogni altro avanza.
Text Authorship:
- possibly by Ottavio Rinuccini (1562 - 1621) [author's text not yet checked 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 Giulio Caccini (1546 - 1618), "Amor ch'attendi" [text verified 1 time]
Available translations, adaptations, and transliterations (if applicable):
- ENG English (Paolo Montanari) , title 1: "Love, what are you waiting for?", copyright © 2005, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]
This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 48
Word count: 136
Love, what are you waiting for? Love, what are you doing? Come on! why don't you take your arrows now at last? Love, revenge! Love, hit with your darts that haughty heart that disdains your kingdom. O pomp, o glory, o proud booty, what a noble victory if Love hurts her; Love, dare! Love, hurt her! Love, and hear what praises you will receive. Mighty Love, gentle Love, people will say "eventually she did burn with the fire of love, that cruel woman who, eager for moans and tears, scorns her lovers." That arrogant heart now is languishing and sighing, that sharp face now moves to pity. Those cruel eyes, turned to two rivers, do now pour out tears of love. If she once cruel and wicked denied mercy now, humble and pious, she asks for it. O fire, o arrow, noble, immmortal, what will escape you if you set on fire the ice? From the high heaven, Jupiter throws thunderbolts, Apollo, the bowman of Delos, rains darts, but let the golden arrow be adorned with laurel, for it exceeds any other in power.
Text Authorship:
- Translation from Italian (Italiano) to English copyright © 2005 by Paolo Montanari, (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 Italian (Italiano) possibly by Ottavio Rinuccini (1562 - 1621)
This text was added to the website: 2005-10-11
Line count: 48
Word count: 184