possibly by Guillaume Dufay (c1400 - 1474)
Translation © by David Wyatt

Salve flos Tusce gentis
Language: Latin 
Available translation(s): ENG
 Salve flos Tusce gentis, Florentia, salve,
 O salve, Italici gloria magna soli,
 Salve, que doctos felix
 Tot mater alumnos,
 Tot generas magnos consilia atque fide,
 Quae tot praestantes mire
 Integritudine gignis,
 Quae tot praestantes religione viros,
 Salve, cui debet quodcumque
 Est artis honestae
 Ingenii quicquid quicquid
 Et eloquii est.
 Salve, quae fama totum diffusa per orbem
 Et vehis et natos mittis ad astra tuos.
 Nunc cecini et gratis voces
 Placuere canore,
 Praemia, mercedes nec petiere simul.
 Fessus ego haud cantu,
 Vos en defessa canendo,
 Sed tu carminibus vive canenda meis!
 Vos nunc, Etrusce iubar, salvete puellae.
 Sic sedet hoc animo
 Nec sine amore moror.
 Stant foribus Nymphis similes, stant
 Naiades utque
 Aut ut Amazonides aut procidives Venus.
 Fervet in amplexus atque
 Oscula dulcia quisque;
 Si semel has viderit, captus amore cadet.
 Ista, deae mundi, vester per saecula cuncta,
 Guillermus cecini natus et ipse Fay.


Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive)

Available translations, adaptations, and transliterations (if applicable):

  • ENG English (David Wyatt) , title unknown, copyright © 2012, (re)printed on this website with kind permission

Researcher for this text: Guy Laffaille [Guest Editor]

This text was added to the website: 2009-01-08
Line count: 33
Word count: 147

Hail flower of the Tuscan race,...
Language: English  after the Latin 
 Hail flower of the Tuscan race, Florence, hail,
 O hail great glory of Italy's soil,
 Hail fortunate mother who begets
 So many learned disciples,
 So many great men in counsel and faith;
 Who bears so many men outstanding
 For their wonderful integrity,
 So many outstanding for their piety;
 Hail city to which is owed whatever
 There is of true art,
 Whatever there is of talent, and whatever
 There is of eloquence.
 Hail, you who, with fame spread through the whole world,
 Send and convey your children to the stars.
 Now I have sung, and welcome voices
 Have pleased with their song,
 Nor do they seek reward or money at the same time.
 I am not tired with this song
 But look, you are tired of my singing,
 Yet live, live to be sung of in my songs!

 You now, radiance of Tuscany, hail o maidens.
 Thus it rests on my spirit
 And I stay here not without love.
 They stand at the doors like Nymphs, they stand
 Like Naiads
 Or like Amazons or rich suitors of Venus.
 Every man is excited for their embraces
 And sweet kisses;
 If once he sees them, he will fall love's captive.
 These songs, o goddesses of this world, I Guillaume have sung,
 Born du Fay indeed, yours through all ages.

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  • Translation from Latin to English copyright © 2012 by David Wyatt, (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.

Based on


This text was added to the website: 2012-07-03
Line count: 33
Word count: 218