Datemi pace (Cipriano de Rore)

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• (Posted 2018-02-19)  CPDL #48869:         

Editor: James Gibb (submitted 2018-02-19).   Score information: A4, 4 pages, 71 kB   Copyright: CPDL

Edition notes: Reformatting of #19955, with minor adjustments to underlay. Barring changed to emphasise areas that are obviously in triple time.

• (Posted 2009-08-09)  CPDL #19955:        (Finale 2003)

Editor: Robert van der Peijl (submitted 2009-08-09).   Score information: A4, 5 pages, 112 kB   Copyright: CPDL

Edition notes:

• (Posted 2004-05-25)  CPDL #07088:   

Editor: Rolf Maeder (submitted 2004-05-25).   Score information: Letter, 5 pages, 61 kB   Copyright: Personal

Edition notes: Previously hosted on external site. Uploaded to CPDL server 2007-11-24.

General Information

Title: Datemi pace
Composer: Cipriano de Rore
Lyricist: Francesco Petrarca

Number of voices: 4vv   Voicing: SATB
Genre: Secular, Madrigal

Language: Italian
Instruments: A cappella

First published: 1557 in Il secondo libro de madrigali a quatro voci, no. 7
Description: 

Original text and translations

Italian text Datemi pace, o duri miei pensieri: Non basta ben ch’Amor fortuna e morte Mi fanno guerra intorno e’n su le porte Senza trovarmi dentro altri guerrieri? E tu, mio cor, anchor se’ pur qual eri? Disleal a me sol che fiere scorte Vai ricettando e sei fatto consorte De’ miei nemici si pronti e leggieri? In te i secreti suoi messaggi Amore In te spiega fortuna ogni sua pompa E morte la memoria di quel colpo Che l’avanzo di me convien che rompa In te i vaghi pensier s’arman d’errore: Perche d’ogni mio mal te solo Canzoniere 274

English translation O harsh thoughts of mine, grant me peace: is it not enough that Love, Fate and Death make war on me around, and at the gates, without me finding other battles within? And you, my heart, are you still what you were, disloyal only to me, receiving wild company, and forging alliances, so quickly and so readily with my enemies? In you Love hides his secret messages, in you Fate reveals all his triumph, and Death the memory of that blow that must shatter all my advances: in you wrong thought arms itself with error: so I charge you alone with all my ills. Translation by Anthony S. Kline ©