Death be not proud, though some have called thee Mighty and dreadfull, for thou art not soe, For those whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow, Die not, poore death, nor [yet canst thou]1 kill mee. From rest and sleepe, which but thy pictures be, Much pleasure; then from thee, much more must flow, And soonest our best men with thee do goe, Rest of their bones, and souls deliverie. Thou art slave to Fate, Chance, kings and desperate men, And dost with poyson, warre, and sickness dwell, And poppie, or charmes can make us sleepe as well And better than thy stroake; why swell'st thou then? One short sleepe past, wee wake eternally, And death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die.
Three Sonnets of John Donne Set to Music
Song Cycle by Douglas Stuart Moore (1893 - 1969)
?. Death be not proud  [sung text not yet checked]
Authorship:
- by John Donne (1572 - 1631), no title, appears in Holy Sonnets, no. 10
See other settings of this text.
Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):
- FRE French (Français) (Guy Laffaille) , copyright © 2010, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
- GER German (Deutsch) [singable] (Bertram Kottmann) , "Sonett über den Tod", copyright © 2013, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
- GER German (Deutsch) (Daniel Johannsen) , copyright © 2020, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
- GER German (Deutsch) (Richard Flatter) , "Sonett an den Tod", appears in Die Fähre, Englische Lyrik aus fünf Jahrhunderten, first published 1936
- ITA Italian (Italiano) (Ferdinando Albeggiani) , "Non esser fiera, Morte", copyright © 2008, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
1 Bennett: "nor canst thou yet"
Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]
?. Thou hast made me  [sung text not yet checked]
Thou hast made me, and shall thy work decay? Repaire me now, for now mine end doth haste, I runne to death, and death meets me as fast, And all my pleasures are like yesterday; I dare not move my dim eyes anyway, Despaire behind, and death before doth cast Such terror, and my feeble flesh doth waste By sinne in it, which it t'wards Hell doth weigh; Onely thou art above, and when t'wards thee By thy leave I can looke, I rise againe; But our old subtle foe so tempteth me, That not one houre myselfe can I sustaine; Thy Grace may wing me to prevent his art, And thou like Adamant draw mine iron heart.
Authorship:
- by John Donne (1572 - 1631), no title, appears in Holy Sonnets, no. 1
See other settings of this text.
Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):
- FRE French (Français) (Guy Laffaille) , copyright © 2011, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
- GER German (Deutsch) (Daniel Johannsen) , copyright © 2020, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
?. Batter my heart  [sung text not yet checked]
Batter my heart, three person'd God; for you As yet but knocke, breathe, shine, and seeke to mend; That I may rise, and stand, o'erthrow me, and bend Your force, to breake, blowe, burn and make me new. I, like an usurpt towne, to another due, Labour to admit you, but Oh, to no end, Reason your viceroy in mee, mee should defend But is captiv'd, and proves weake or untrue. Yet dearely I love you, and would be loved faine, But am betroth'd unto your enemie: Divorce mee, untie, or breake that knot againe, Take mee to you, imprison mee, for I Except you enthrall mee, never shall be free, Nor ever chaste, except you ravish mee.
Authorship:
- by John Donne (1572 - 1631), no title, appears in Holy Sonnets, no. 14
See other settings of this text.
Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):
- FRE French (Français) (Guy Laffaille) , copyright © 2010, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
- GER German (Deutsch) (Daniel Johannsen) , copyright © 2020, (re)printed on this website with kind permission