Let those who are in favour with their...
Language: English
Let those who are in favour with their stars
Of public honour and proud titles boast,
Whilst I, whom fortune of such triumph bars
Unlook'd for joy in that I honour most.
Great princes' favourites their fair leaves spread
But as the marigold at the sun's eye,
And in themselves their pride lies buried,
For at a frown they in their glory die.
The painful warrior famoused for fight,
After a thousand victories once foiled,
Is from the book of honour razed quite,
And all the rest forgot for which he toiled:
Then happy I, that love and am beloved,
Where I may not remove nor be removed.
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Text Authorship:
Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive):
- by Juriaan Andriessen (1925 - 1996), "Sonnet no. 25", published 1970 [ alto and tenor; one musician for chalumeau and/or clarinet and percussion; one for viola da gamba and percussion; and one for clavicembalo, portatief [org], and percussion ], from To Wet a Widow's Eye [sung text not yet checked]
- by Leslie Kondorossy (1915 - 1989), "Let those who are in favour", op. 138 no. ? (1962) [ soprano or tenor and piano ], from Five Shakespeare Sonnets [sung text not yet checked]
- by Richard Simpson (1820 - 1876), "Sonnet XXV", 1865 [ medium voice and piano ] [sung text not yet checked]
Settings in other languages, adaptations, or excerpts:
Other available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):
Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [
Administrator]
This text was added to the website: 2007-10-12
Line count: 14
Word count: 108
Avvenga pure che chi alle stelle è gradito
Language: Italian (Italiano) after the English
Avvenga pure che chi alle stelle è gradito
orgoglioso si vanti di ogni titolo o onore,
mentre io, cui tanta gloria la sorte ha vietato,
godo in disparte di ciò che più mi sta a cuore.
I suoi petali schiude, chi ai potenti piace,
al pari di calendule sotto l'occhio del sole,
ma ogni suo orgoglio in lui seppellito giace,
basta un cipiglio e la sua gloria muore.
Il prode guerriero, famoso per il suo valore,
se, dopo mille vittorie, una sconfitta subisce
è subito cancellato dal libro dell'onore,
e di ogni altra sua impresa ogni memoria svanisce.
Perciò, felice io, che amo e sono riamato,
da chi non posso lasciare, né essere lasciato.
Text Authorship:
- Translation from English to Italian (Italiano) copyright © 2012 by Ferdinando Albeggiani, (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.
Contact: licenses@email.lieder.example.net
Based on:
This text was added to the website: 2012-04-30
Line count: 14
Word count: 114
