Four Songs

by Charles Wood (1866 - 1926)

1. An Ancient Love Song  [sung text not yet checked]

Language: English 
In an harbour1 grene aslepe whereas I lay
The byrdes sang swete in the middes of the day:
I dreamèd fast of mirth and play.
In youth is pleasure, in youth is pleasure.

Me thought I walkèd still to and fro,
And from her company I could not go,
But when I wakèd it was not so.
In youth is pleasure, in youth is pleasure.

Therefore my heart is surely pyght2
Of her alone to have a sight
Which is my joy and hearte's delight.
In youth is pleasure, in youth is pleasure.

Modernized spelling

In an arbour green asleep whereas I lay
The birds sang sweet in the [middis]3 of the day:
I dreamed fast of mirth and play;
In youth is pleasure, in youth is pleasure.

Methought I walked still to and fro,
And from her company I could not go,
But when I waked it was not so.
In youth is pleasure, in youth is pleasure.

Therefore my heart is surely pight 4
Of her alone to have a sight
Which is my joy and heart's delight.
In youth is pleasure, in youth is pleasure.

Original version, Lusty Iuventus of youth he syngeth

In a herber grene a sleep where as I lay, 
The byrdes sang swete in y middes of the day,
I dreamed fast of myrth and play,
In youth is plesure, in youth is pleasure.

Me thought I walked stil to and fro, 
And from her company I could not go,
But when I waked it was not so,
In youth is plesure, in youth is plesure.

Therfore my hart is surely pyght
Of her alone to have a sight.
Which is my joy and hartes delyght,
In youth is plesure, in youth is pleasure. Finis.

Text Authorship:

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View original text (without footnotes)
1 presumably "arbour" (note from score)
2 old past participle of pitch := resolved, set upon. (note from score)
3 Moeran: "middes"; Warlock (in "Youth"): "middès"
4 Note from score: pight: fixed, determined.

Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]

2. Song  [sung text not yet checked]

Language: English 
Why so pale and wan, fond lover?
  Prithee, why so pale?
Will, when looking well can't move her,
  Looking ill prevail?
  Prithee, why so pale?

Why so dull and mute, young sinner?
  Prithee, why so mute?
Will, when speaking well can't win her,
  Saying nothing [do't]1?
  Prithee, why so mute?

Quit, quit for shame, this will not move,
  This cannot take her;
If of herself she will not love,
  Nothing can make her;
  [The devil take her!]2

Text Authorship:

  • by John Suckling, Sir (1609 - 1642), no title, written 1637, Printed by John Haviland for Thomas Walkley, at the sign of the Flying Horse near York House, London, first published 1638

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

View original text (without footnotes)

Confirmed with Works in prose and Verse, by Sir John Suckling, Aglaura, Act IV, Scene 2, G. Routledge, London 1910, Page 115.

1 Stöhr: "do"
2 Britten: "Let who will take her!"

Research team for this page: Ted Perry , Guy Laffaille [Guest Editor] , Iain Sneddon [Guest Editor] , Johann Winkler

3. Song  [sung text not yet checked]

Language: English 
How can the tree but waste and wither away,
That hath not some time comfort of the sunne?
How can that flower but vade and soone decay,
That alwaies is with darke clouds over runne?
Is this a life ? -- Nay ; death you may it call
That feeles each paine, and knowes no joy at all.

What foodelesse beast can live long in good plight?
Or is it life where sences there be none?
Or what availeth eies, without their sight?
Or els a tongue to him that is alone ?
Is this a life ? -- Nay; death you may it call
That feeles each paine, and knowes no joy at all. 

Whereto serves eares, if that there be no sound?
Or such a head where no device doth grow ?
But all of plaintes, since sorrow is the ground,
Whereby the heart doth pine in deadly woe.
Is this a life ? -- Nay; death you may it call
That feeles each paine, and knowes no joy at all.

Text Authorship:

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Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]

4. Song  [sung text not yet checked]

Language: English 
"Ah Robin,
Jolly Robin,
Tell me how thy leman doth?
And thou shalt know of mine.'

"My lady is unkind, perdie!'
"Alack, why is she so!
"She loveth another better than me,
And yet she will say, no.'

"I find no such doubleness:
I find women true.
My lady loveth me doubtless,
And will change for no new.'

"Thou art happy while that doth last,
But I say as I find,
That woman's love is but a blast
And turneth like the wind.'

"If that be true yet as thou sayest
That women turn their heart,
Then speak better of them thou mayest
In hope to have thy part.'

Such folks shall take no harm by love
That can abide their turn;
But I, alas, can no way prove
In love but lack and mourn.

"But if thou wilt avoid thy harm,
Learn this lesson of me:
At others' fires thyself to warm,
And let them warm with thee.'

Text Authorship:

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Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]
Total word count: 697