Libera me, Domine, et pone me iuxta te,				William Byrd
    Deliver me, O Lord, and set me beside thee,

Et cuiusvis manus pugnet contra me.
    And any man's hand may fight against me.

Dies mei transierunt, cogitationes meae dissipatae sunt,
    My days have passed away, my thoughts are dissipated,

Torquentes cor meum, noctem verterunt in diem,
    Tormenting my heart, they have turned night into day,

Et rursum post tenebras spero lucem.
    And after darkness I hope for light again.




De lamentatione Hieremiae prophetae:				William Byrd
    From the lamentations of Jeremiah the prophet:

Heth:

Cogitavit Dominus dissipare murum filiae Sion:
    The Lord thought to destroy the wall of the daughter of Sion:

tetendit funiculum suum et non avertit manum suum a perditione.
    He stretched out his line and did not turn aside His hand from destruction.


Teth:

Defixae sunt in terra portae ejus: perdidit et contrivit vectes ejus:
    Her gates are sunk in the earth: He has destroyed and broken her bars.

regem ejus et principem ejus in gentibus.
    Her King and princes are among the gentiles.


Iod:

Sederunt in terra conticuerunt senes filiae Sion:
    The elders of the daughter of Sion sit upon the ground in silence:

consperserunt cinere capita sua.
    They sprinkle their heads with ashes.

Jerusalem, Jerusalem, convertere ad Dominum Deum tuum.
    Jerusalem, Jerusalem, turn to the Lord thy God.



I. 

Laudibus in sanctis Dominum celebrate supremum:			William Byrd
    Celebrate the Lord most high in holy praises:

Firmamenta sonent inclita facta Dei.
    Let the firmament echo the glorious deeds of God.

Inclita facta Dei cantate, sacraque potentis
    Sing ye of the works of God, and with holy voice

Voce potestatum, saepe sonate manus.
    Sound forth oft the power of His mighty hand.


II.

Magnificum Domini cantet tuba martia nomen:
    Let the warlike trumpet sing the great name of the Lord:

Pieria Domino concelebrate lira.
    Celebrate the Lord with the Pierian* Lyre.

Laude Dei resonent resonantia tympana summi,
    Let resounding timbrels ring in praise of God,

Alta sacri resonent organa laude Dei.
    And lofty organs peal to the praise of God.


III.

Hunc arguta canant tenui psalteria corda,
    To him let melodious palteries sing with their strings,  

Hunc agili laudet laeta chorea pede.
    To him let joyful dance praise with nimble foot.

Concava divinas effundant cymbala laudes,
    Let hollow cymbals pour forth with divine praises,

Cymbala dulcisona laude repletas Dei.
    Sweet-sounding cymbal filled with the praise of God.

Omne quod aethereis in mundo vescitur auris
    Let everything in the world that feeds on the air of heaven

Halleluya canat tempus in omne Deo.
    Sing Halleluia to God for ever more.



*Pierian: pertaining to the Muses.


All pleasure is of this condition,			John Wilbye (1574-1638)
It pricks men forward to fruition
But if enjoy'd, then like the humming Bee
The honey being shed away doth flee
But leaves a sting that wounds the inward heart
With gnawing grief and neverending smart.


Weep, weep mine eyes, my heart can take no rest		Wilbye
Weep, weep, my heart, mine eyes shall ne'er be blest
Weep heart, weep eyes, and both this accent cry:
A thousand deaths I die.
Ay me, ah cruel Fortune!  Now Leander to die I fear not,
Death do thy worst, I care not.
I hope when I am dead in Elysian plain to meet,
And there with joy we'll love again.


Lady, when I behold the Roses sprouting			Wilbye
Which clad in damask mantles deck the arbours:
And then behold your lips, where sweet love harbors
My eyes presents me with a double doubting:
For viewing both alike, hardly my mind supposes
Whether the Roses be your lips, or your lips the Roses.




Fine knacks for ladies, cheap, choice, brave and new,		John Dowland
Good pennyworths, but money cannot move.
I keep a fair but for the fair to view,
A beggar may be liberal of love.
Though all my wares be trash, the heart is true.

Great gifts are guiles and look for gifts again,
My trifles come as treasures from my mind.
It is a precious jewel to be plain,
Sometimes in shell the Orient's pearls we find.
Of others take a sheaf, of me a grain.

Within this pack pins, points, laces and gloves
And divers toys fitting a country fair
But in my heart, where duty serves and loves,
Turtles and twins, Court's brood, a heavenly pair.
Happy the heart that thinks of no removes.



The lowest trees have tops, the ant her gall,			Dowland
The fly her spleen, the little spark his heat.
And slender hairs cast shadows though but small,
And bees have stings although they be not great.
Seas have their source, and so have shallow springs,
And love is love in beggars and in kings.

Where waters smoothest run, deep are the fords,
The dial stirs, but none perceives it move.
The firmest faith is in the fewest words,
The turtles cannot sing, and yet they love.
True hearts have eyes and ears, no tongues to speak,
They hear and see and sigh, and then they break.
			
			- ascribed to Sir Edward Dyer


Humor, say: A Dialogue						Dowland

1st voice:	Humor, say what mak'st thou here				
		In the presence of a queen?

2nd voice:	Princes hold conceit most dear,
		All conceit in humor seen.

1st voice:	Thou art a heavy leaden mood.

2nd voice:	Humor is invention's food.

Both:		But never humor yet was true, 
		but that which only pleaseth you.

1st voice:	O, I am as heavy as earth,
		Say then who is Humor now.

2nd voice:	I am now inclined to mirth,
		Humor I as well as thou.

1st voice:	Why then 'tis I am drowned in Woe,

2nd voice:	No, no Wit is cherish'd so.

Both:		But never humor yet was true, 
		but that which only pleaseth you.

1st voice:	Mirth then is drown'd in Sorrow's brim,
		O, in sorrow all things sleep.

2nd voice:	No, no, fool, the light'st things swim
		Heavy things sink to the deep.

1st voice:	In her presence all things smile,

2nd voice:	Humor frolic then awhile.

Both:		But never humor yet was true, 
		but that which only pleaseth you.



Sleep, fleshly birth, in peaceful earth		Robert Ramsey (c. 1595 - 1644)
And let thine ears list to the music of the spheres
While we around this fairy ground
Thy doleful obit keeping, make marble melt with weeping.
With num'rous feet we'll part and meet.
Then choruslike in a ring thy praises sing,
While showers of flowers bestrew thee, we'll thus with tears bedew thee.
Rest in soft peace, sweet youth, and there remain,
Till soul and body meet to join again.



What is our life?  A play of passion,		Orlando Gibbons (1583-1625)
Our mirth the music of division.
Our mothers' wombs the tiring houses be,
Where we are dressed for this short Comedy.
Heaven the judicious sharp spectator is
That sits and marks still who doth act amiss.
Our graves that hide us from the searching Sun
Are like drawn curtains when the play is done.
Thus march we playing to our latest rest
Only we die in earnest, that's no jest.

			- Sir Walter Raleigh


The silver swan, who living had no note,		Gibbons
When death approached, unlocked her silent throat.
Leaning her breast against the reedy shore,
Thus sung her first and last, and sung no more:
Farewell all joys; O death, come close mine eyes;
More geese than swans now live, more fools than wise.



Hard by a crystal fountain, 				Morley
Oriana the bright lay down a-sleeping.
The birds they finely chirped, the winds were stilled.
Sweetly with these accenting the air was filled.
This is that fair whose head a crown deserveth,
Which Heaven for her reserveth.
Leave, shepherds your lambs keeping upon the barren mountain.
And nymphs attend on her and leave your bowers,
For she the shepherds' life maintains and yours.
Then sang the shepherds and nymphs of Diana: Long live fair Oriana!



Fyer, fyer!  My heart!  Fa la la, etc.		Thomas Morley (1557- c. 1602)
O help!  Alas!  Ay me, I sit and cry me,
And call for help, alas, but none comes nigh me.
Fa la la, etc. 

O, I burn me!  Alas!  Fa la la, etc.
I burn!  Alas! Ay me, will none come quench me?
O cast water on, alas, and drench me.
Fa la la, etc.