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But that night When on my bed I lay, I was most mov'd And felt most deeply in what world I was; With unextinguish'd taper I kept watch, Reading at intervals; the fear gone by Press'd on me almost like a fear to come; I thought of those September Massacres, Divided from me by a little month, And felt and touch'd them, a substantial dread: The rest was conjured up from tragic fictions, And mournful Calendars of true history, Remembrances and dim admonishments. "The horse is taught his manage, and the wind Of heaven wheels round and treads in his own steps, Year follows year, the tide returns again, Day follows day, all things have second birth; The earthquake is not satisfied all at once." And in such way I wrought upon myself, Until I seem'd to hear a voice that cried To the whole City, "Sleep no more."
- by William Wordsworth (1770 - 1850), appears in The Prelude or, Growth of a Poet's Mind; An Autobiographical Poem, first published 1805 [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 (Edward) Benjamin Britten (1913 - 1976), "But that night when on my bed I lay", op. 60 no. 5, from Nocturne for tenor solo, seven obligato instruments and string orchestra, no. 5. [ sung text checked 1 time]
Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):
- CAT Catalan (Català) (Salvador Pila) , "Però aquella nit quan jeia al meu llit", copyright © 2016, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
- FRE French (Français) (Jean-Pierre Granger)
Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]
This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 20
Word count: 149
Però aquella nit quan jeia al meu llit, estava molt torbat i vaig copsar en quina mena de món em trobava; amb una espelma encara encesa jo vetllava, a estones llegint; la por que ja havia passat m’oprimia quasi tant com la por que havia de venir; pensava en aquelles massacres de setembre, allunyades de mi per tan sols un mes, i les sentia, les tocava, un terror substancial: la resta l’evocaven tràgiques ficcions i tristes cròniques de fets reals, recordances i vagues advertències. “Al cavall se l’ensenya ensinistrant-lo, i el vent del cel gira al voltant i trepitja les seves pròpies passes, un dia segueix a l’altre, i de nou puja la marea, el terratrèmol no en té prou amb una sola vegada.” I així m’anava posant nerviós, fins que em semblà sentir una veu cridant a tota la ciutat, “No dormis més.”
- Translation from English to Catalan (Català) copyright © 2016 by Salvador Pila, (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.
- a text in English by William Wordsworth (1770 - 1850), appears in The Prelude or, Growth of a Poet's Mind; An Autobiographical Poem, first published 1805
This text was added to the website: 2016-03-29
Line count: 19
Word count: 144