Muses, offspring of thrice-greatest Jupiter,
Wail in song,
Let the cypress pull together its foliage:
Josquin himself is dead,
The ornament of churches
And your own ornament.

O harsh and wicked death,
Who deprives the churches of their sweet sounds
And the courts of princes too,
The evil which I will invoke on you
Is for taking away the good,
And sparing the bad.

But Apollo threatens you
With being killed, o most terrible death:
And he is encouraging the Muses to join in;
He is skilful with bow and arrows
(and he emphasises that the Muses should join in)
And has laurel in his hair
And gold in his hair.

Josquin, welcome to Jupiter greatest
And best, speaks
And makes his triumphal entry among heaven's dwellers,
And sings a sweet song,
The ornament of churches, 
the ornament of the Muses.

Tenor:
 The groans of death surrounded me,
 Hell's agonies surrounded me.