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So sweet a kiss the golden sun gives not To those fresh morning drops upon the rose, As thy eye-beams, when their fresh rays have smote The night of dew that on my cheeks down flows: Nor shines the silver moon one half so bright. Through the transparent bosom of the deep, As doth thy face through tears of mine give light; Thou shin'st in every tear that I do weep: No drop but as a coach doth carry thee; So ridest thou triumphing in my woe. Do but behold the tears that swell in me, And they thy glory through my grief will show: But do not love thyself; then thou wilt keep My tears for glasses, and still make me weep. O queen of queens! how far thou dost excel, No thought can think, nor tongue of mortal tell.
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Authorship
- by William Shakespeare (1564 - 1616), no title, appears in Love's Labour's Lost, Act IV, Scene 3 [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 George Sampson , "So sweet a kiss", published 1893 [ SATB chorus and piano ad libitum], partsong; London : Novello [ sung text not yet checked against a primary source]
Settings in other languages, adaptations, or excerpts:
- Also set in German (Deutsch), a translation by August Wilhelm Schlegel (1767 - 1845) FRE ; composed by Harald Genzmer.
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Other available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):
- FRE French (Français) (Guy Laffaille) , copyright © 2015, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]
Text added to the website: 2011-06-26 00:00:00
Last modified: 2014-06-16 10:04:26
Line count: 16
Word count: 141
Le soleil d’or ne donne pas un baiser aussi doux A la rose encore humide des pleurs de la fraîche aurore Que ton regard, quand il darde ses frais rayons Sur mes joues que la nuit inonde de rosée. La lune d’argent ne brille pas à beaucoup près A travers le sein transparent de l’onde Autant que ta beauté luit à travers mes pleurs : Elle resplendit dans tous ceux que je verse. Chacune de mes larmes la porte comme un char D’où elle domine triomphalement ma douleur. Regarde seulement les pleurs qui gonflent mes yeux Et tu y verras ta gloire à travers ma détresse. Va ! ne réponds pas à mon amour, et tu pourras toujours Te mirer dans mes larmes, en me faisant pleurer sans cesse. 0 reine des reines, combien tu es sublime ! La pensée ne peut le concevoir ni la langue humaine le dire.
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Authorship
- Translation from English to French (Français) copyright © 2015 by Guy Laffaille, (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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- a text in English by William Shakespeare (1564 - 1616), no title, appears in Love's Labour's Lost, Act IV, Scene 3
Text added to the website: 2015-07-27 00:00:00
Last modified: 2015-07-27 16:10:12
Line count: 16
Word count: 150