John Dowland's Lute Songs: Third and Fourth Books with Original Tablature


Unsurpassed in his day as a lute virtuoso, John Dowland (1563–1626) today continues to delight singers, musicians, and music lovers alike. This collection of 45 songs includes all the works in Dowland's original third and fourth books of lute songs, the composer's contributions to his son's anthology of 1610, and a dance for solo guitar.
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John Dowland's Lute Songs: Third and Fourth Books with Original Tablature

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Unsurpassed in his day as a lute virtuoso, John Dowland (1563–1626) today continues to delight singers, musicians, and music lovers alike. This collection of 45 songs includes all the works in Dowland's original third and fourth books of lute songs, the composer's contributions to his son's anthology of 1610, and a dance for solo guitar.
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Product Details

  • ISBN-13: 9780486422442
  • Publisher: Dover Publications
  • Publication date: 5/3/2002
  • Series: Dover Song Collections Series
  • Pages: 144
  • Sales rank: 1,080,078
  • Product dimensions: 8.30 (w) x 10.80 (h) x 0.30 (d)

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John Dowland's Lute Songs

By John Dowland

Dover Publications, Inc.

Copyright © 2002 David Nadal and Kithara Editions
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-0-486-17224-8


Farewell too fair


Farewell too fair, too chaste, but too too cruel,
Discretion never quenched fire with swords:
Why hast thou made my heart thine anger's fuel,
And now would kill my passions with thy words.
This is proud Beauty's true anatomy,
If that secure severe in secrecy,
Farewell, farewell.


Farewell, too dear, and too too much desired,
Unless Compassion dwelt more near thy heart:
Love by Neglect (though constant) oft is tired,
And forc'd from Bliss unwillingly to part.
This is proud Beauty's true anatomy,
If that secure severe in secrecy,
Farewell, farewell.


Time stands still


Time stands still with gazing on her face,
Stand still and gaze, for minutes, hours and years, to give her place:
All other things shall change, but she remains the same.
Till heavens changed have their course and Time hath lost his name.
Cupid doth hover up and down blinded with her fair eyes,
And Fortune captive at her feet contemn'd and conquer'd lies.


When Fortune, Love and Time attend on
Her with my fortunes, love, and time, I honor will alone,
If bloodless Envy say, Duty hath no desert,
Duty replies that Envy knows herself his faithful heart,
My settled vows and spotless faith no fortune can remove,
Courage shall show my inward faith, and faith shall try my love.


Behold a wonder here

Behold a wonder here
Love hath reciev'd his sight,
Which many hundred years,
Hath not beheld the light.


Such beams infused be
By Cynthia in his eyes,
As first have made him see,
And then have made him wise.


Love now no more will weep
For them that laugh the while,
Nor wake for them that sleep,
Nor sigh for them that smile.


So pow'rful is the beauty
That Love doth now behold,
As love is turn'd to duty,
That's neither blind nor bold.


This Beauty shows her might,
To be of double kind,
In giving Love his sight
And striking Folly blind.


Daphne was not so chaste


Daphne was not so chaste as she was changing,
Soon begun Love with hate estranging:
He that today triumphs with favors graced,
Falls before night with scorns defaced.
Yet is thy beauty feign'd, and ev'ry one desires,
Still the false light of thy trait'rous fires.


Beauty can want no grace by true love viewed,
Fancy by looks is still renewed:
Like to a fruitful tree it ever groweth,
Or the fresh spring that endless floweth.
But if that Beauty were of one consent with love,
Love should live free, and true pleasure prove.


Me, me, and none but me


Me, me, and none but me, dart home O gentle Death
And quickly, for I draw too long this idle breath:
O how I long till I may fly to heav'n above,
Unto my faithful and beloved turtle dove.


Like to the silver swan, before my death I sing:
And yet alive my fatal knell I help to ring.
Still I desire from earth and earthly joys to fly,
He never happy liv'd, that cannot love to die.


When Phoebus first did Daphne love


When Phoebus first did Daphne love,
And no means might her favor move,
He crav'd the cause, the cause quoth she
Is, I have vow'd virginity.
Then in a rage he sware, and said,
Past fifteen none, none but one should live a maid.


If maidens then shall chance be sped
Ere they can scarcely dress their head,
Yet pardon them, for they be loath
To make good Phoebus break his oath.
And better 'twere a child were born,
Than that a god should be foresworn.


Say Love if ever thou didst find

Say Love if ever thou didst find,
A woman with a constant mind?
None but one.
And what should that rare mirror be,
Some Goddess or some Queen is she?
She, she, she, and only she,
She only Queen of love and beauty.


But could thy fiery poisnon'd dart
At no time touch her spotless heart,
Nor come near
She is not subject to Love's bow,
Her eye commands, her heart saith no,
No, no, no, and only no,
One no another still doth follow.


How might I that fair wonder know,
That mocks desire with endless no?
See the Moon
That ever in one change doth grow,
Yet still the same, and she is so;
So, so, so, and only so,
From heav'n her virtues she doth borrow.


To her then yield thy shafts and bow,
That can command affections so:
Love is free,
So are her thoughts that vanquish thee,
There is no Queen of love but she,
She, she, she, and only she,
She only Queen of love and beauty.


Flow not so fast ye fountains


Flow not so fast ye fountains,
What needeth all this haste?
Swell not above your mountains,
Nor spend your time in waste.
Gentle springs, freshly your salt tears
Must still fall dropping from their spheres.


Weep they apace, whom Reason,
Or ling'ring time can ease:
My sorrow can no season,
Nor aught besides appease
Gentle springs, freshly your salt tears
Must still fall dropping from their spheres.


Time can abate the terror
Of every common pain,
But common grief is error,
True grief will still remain.
Gentle springs, freshly your salt tears
Must still fall dropping from their spheres.


What if I never speed?


What if I never speed?
Shall I straight yield to despair,
And still on sorrow feed
That can no loss repair?
Or shall I change my love?
For I find pow'r to depart,
And in my reason prove
I can command my heart.
But if she will pity my desire, and my love requite,
Then ever shall she live my dear delight.
Come, come, come, while I have a heart to desire thee.
Come, come, come, for either I will love or admire thee.


Oft have I dream'd of joy,
Yet I never felt the sweet,
But tired with annoy,
My griefs each other greet.
Oft have I left my hope,
As a wretch by fate forlorn,
But Love aims at one scope,
And lost will still return.
He that once loves with a true desire never can depart,
For Cupid is the king of every heart.
Come, come, come, while I have a heart to desire thee.
Come, come, come, for either I will love or admire thee.


Love stood amaz'd


Love stood amaz'd at sweet Beauty's pain:
Love would have said that all was but vain,
And God but half divine.
But when Love saw that Beauty would die:
He all aghast, to heav'ns did cry,
O gods, what wrong is mine?


Then his tears bred in thoughts of salt brine,
Fell from his eyes, like rain in sunshine
Expell'd by rage of fire:
Yet in such wise as anguish affords,
He did express in these his last words
His infinite desire.


Are you fled, fair? where are now those eyes,
Eyes but too fair, evied by the skies,
You angry gods do know,
With guiltless blood your sceptres you stain,
On poor true hearts like tyrants you reign:
Unjust why do you so?


Are you false gods? why then do you reign?
Are you just gods? why then have you slain
The life of Love on earth.
Beauty, now thy face lives in the skies,
Beauty, now let me live in thine eyes,
Where bliss felt never death.


Then from high rock, the rock of despair,
He falls, in hope to smother in the air,
Or else on stones to burst,
Or on cold waves to spend his last breath,
Or his strange life to end by strange death,
But Fate forbid the worst.


With pity mov'd the gods then change Love
To Phoenix shape, yet cannot remove
His wonted property,
He loves the sun because it is fair,
Sleep he neglects, he lives but by air,
And would, but cannot die.


Lend your ears to my sorrow


Lend your ears to my sorrow
Good people that have any pity:
For no eyes will I borrow
Mine own shall grace my doleful ditty:
Chant then my voice though rude like to my rhyming,
And tell forth my grief which here in sad despair
Can find no ease of tormenting.


Once I liv'd, once I knew delight,
No grief did shadow then my pleasure:
Grac'd with love, cheer'd with Beauty's sight,
I joy'd alone true heav'nly treasure,
O what a heaven is love firmly embraced,
Such pow'r alone can fix delight
In Fortune's bosom ever placed.


Cold as ice frozen is that heart,
Where thought of love could no time enter:
Such of life reap the poorest part
Whose weight cleaves to this earthly center,
Mutual joys in hearts truly united
Do earth to heav'nly state convert
Like heav'n still in itself delighted.


By a fountain where I lay


By a fountain where I lay,
All blessed be that blessed day,
By the glimm'ring of the sun,
O never be her shining done,
When I might see alone
My true love's fairest one,
Love's dear light,
Love's clear sight,
No world's eyes can clearer see,
A fairer sight none can be.


Fair with garlands all address'd,
Was never Nymph more fairly bless'd,
Blessed in the high'st degree,
So may she ever blessed be,
Came to this fountain near,
With such a smiling cheer,
Such a face,
Such a grace,
Happy, happy eyes that see
Such a heav'nly sight as she.


Then I forthwith took my pipe
Which I all fair and clean did wipe,
And upon a heav'nly ground,
All in the grace of beauty found,
Played this roundelay,
Welcome fair Queen of May,
Sing sweet air,
Welcome fair,
Welcome be the shepherds' Queen,
The glory of all our green.


Oh what hath overwrought

Oh what hath overwrought
My all amazed thought
Or whereto am I brought,
That thus in vain have sought,
Till Time and Truth hath taught,
I labor all for nought.

The day I see is clear,
But I am ne'er the near,
For grief doth still appear,
To cross our merry cheer,
While I can nothing hear,
But winter all the year.

Cold, hold, the sun will shine warm,
Therefore now fear no harm.
O blessed beams,
Where beauty streams
Happy, happy light to love's dreams.


Farewell unkind farewell


Farewell unkind farewell, to me no more a father,
Since my heart holds my love most dear:
The wealth which thou dost reap another's hand must gather,
Though my heart still lies buried there,
Then farewell, O farewell,
Welcome my love, welcome my joy for ever.


Tis not the vain desire of human fleeting beauty,
Makes my mind to live, though my means do die.
Nor do I Nature wrong, though I forget my duty:
Love, not in the blood, but in the spirit doth lie.
Then farewell, O farewell,
Welcome my love, welcome my joy for ever.


Weep you no more, sad fountains


Weep you no more, sad fountains,
What need you flow so fast?
Look how the snowy mountains,
Heav'n's sun doth gently waste.
But my sun's heav'nly eyes
View not your weeping.
That now lies sleeping,
Softy, now softly lies sleeping.


Sleep is a reconciling,
A rest that Peace begets:
Doth not the sun rise smiling,
When fair at e'vn he sets,
Rest you then, rest sad eyes,
Melt not in weeping,
While she lies sleeping,
Softly, now softly lies sleeping.


Fie on this feigning


Fie on this feigning,
Is love without desire,
Heat still remaining,
And yet no spark of fire?
Thou art untrue, nor wert with fancy moved,
For Desire hath pow'r on all that ever loved.


Show some relenting,
Or grant thou dost now love,
Two hearts consenting
Shall they no comforts prove?
Yield, or confess that love is without pleasure,
And that women's bounties rob men of their treasure.


Truth is not placed
In words and forced smiles,
Love is not graced
With that which still beguiles,
Love or dislike, yield fire, or give no fuel,
So may'st thou prove kind, or at the least less cruel.


I must complain


I must complain, yet do enjoy my love,
She is too fair, too rich in Beauty's parts
Thence is my grief for Nature while she strove
With all her graces and divinest arts,
To form her too too beautiful of hue,
She had no leisure left to make her true.


Should I aggreiv'd then wish she were less fair,
That were repugnant to my own desires,
She is admir'd, new suitors still repair,
That kindles daily Love's forgetful fires,
Rest jealous thoughts, and thus resolve at last,
She hath more beauty than becomes the chaste.


It was a time when silly bees could speak


It was a time when silly bees could speak,
And in that time I was a silly bee,
Who fed on thyme until my heart 'gan break,
Yet never found the time would favor me.
Of all the swarm I only did not thrive,
Yet brought I wax and honey to the hive.


Then thus I buzz'd, when thyme no sap would give,
Why should this blessed thyme to me be dry,
Sith by this thyme the lazy drone doth live,
The wasp, the worm, the gnat, the butterfly,
Mated with grief, I kneeled on my knees,
And thus complain'd unto the king of Bees.


My liege, Gods grant thy time may never end,
And yet vouchsafe to hear my plaint of thyme,
Which fruitless flies have found to have a friend,
And I cast down when atomies do climb,
The King replied but thus, "Peace, peevish bee,
Thou'rt bound to serve the time, the thyme not thee."

[The word "time" is so spelled throughout the original edition. However, the play on words is obvious.]


Excerpted from John Dowland's Lute Songs by John Dowland. Copyright © 2002 David Nadal and Kithara Editions. Excerpted by permission of Dover Publications, Inc..
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

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Table of Contents

About the Transcriptions
Tuning and Transposition
Types of Transcriptions
I. Farewell too fair
II. Time stands still
III. Behold a wonder here
IV. Daphne was not so chaste
V. "Me, me and none but me"
VI. When Phoebus first did Daphne love
VII. Say Love if ever thou didst find
VIII. Flow not so fast ye fountains
IX. What if I never speed?
X. Love stood amaz'd
XI. Lend your ears to my sorrow
XII. By a fountain where I lay
XIII. Oh what hath overwrought
XIV. Farewell unkind farewell
XV. "Weep you no more, sad fountains"
XVI. Fie on this feigning
XVII. I must complain
XVIII It was a time when silly bees could speak
XIX. The lowest trees have tops
XX. What poor astronomers are they
XXI. Come when I call (for two voices and two lutes)
I. Disdain me still
II. Sweet stay awhile
III. To ask for all thy love
IV. Love those beams
V. "Shall I strive with words to move (Mignarda, a galliard is Dowland's title for the solo lute version of the lyre "Shall I strive with words to move."
VI. Were every thought an eye
VII. Stay Time awhile thy flying
VIII. Tel me true Love (with chorus)
    The next three with treble and bass viols ofr violin and cello:
    IX. Go nightly cares
    X. From silent night
    XI. Lasso vita mia
    XII. In this trembling shadow
    XIII. If that a sinner's sighs
    A three-part work:
    XIV. Thou mighty God
    XV. When David's life
    XVI. When the poor cripple
    XVII. Where sin sore wounding
    XVIII. My heart and tongue were twins
    The next with chorus:
    XIX. Up merry mates
    XX. Welcome black night
    XXI. Cease these false sports
  Far from triumphing Court
  Lady if you so spite me
  In darkness let me dwell
  "A lute solo from A Pilgrimes Solace, transcribed for guitar"
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