Di che t'ammiri stolto (Giovanni Francesco Anerio)

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  • (Posted 2020-07-22)  CPDL #59826:       
Editor: Andreas Stenberg (submitted 2020-07-22).   Score information: A4, 19 pages, 353 kB   Copyright: CPDL
Edition notes: Semi-diplomatoric edition: Modern clefs but original note-values and key. The repeats indicated the same way as in the original. Ficta are added.
N.b. The Lilypond source-file does not include the title-page of the PDF.

General Information

Title: Di che t'ammiri stolto
Composer: Giovanni Francesco Anerio

Number of voices: 3vv   Voicing: SSB
Genre: SacredMadrigal

Language: Italian
Instruments: A cappella

First published: 1599
Description: A set of twelve Laudi spirituale. In the texts, the blessed Virgin rebukes the city of Rome for its wicked ways. The flooding of the Tiber (probably the one on Christmas eve 1589 which broke the Ponto Rotto) was only righteous and mild retribution for the evilness of the city which rivals Babylon and is called to repentance like great Ninive.

External websites:

Original text and translations

Italian.png Italian text

Grave Risposta tremenda
Della Beatissima Vergine
Ma consolatoria poi nel fine

Di che t'ammiri stolto, e'l cor ti tremola,
Perche'l Tebro si fier largo diffondasi,
Se Rom' anchor da gravi colpe inondasi?

Due grandi abissi, e trahe l'un l'altro, e invocalo,
L'un de peccati e d'ira l'altro agrissima,
Però che l'inondanza è copiosissima.

Dopp' Osca iñare maggior leggi per ordine
Dritto à quattro, à vent' otto, à sette, à sedici,
E di Giovan l'Apocalisse à quindici.

Per la Città, che torna in Babilonia.
Qual più sonora tromba,
in mezz' à popoli Discorri, e grida forte.

Grida qual Giona à la superba Ninive,
Frutti di penitenza, homai produchinsi,
Che sfodrata è la spada, men' hor destinsi.

Credan sia questo de' flagelli un minimo:
Debil castigo è'l trabboccar del Trevere:
Trenin, dal Ciel girne in favilla, e'n cenere.

Che se non fosse hoggi'l mio Parto in fasciole,
Stretto le man, che latte al petto suggesi,
Quanto vedi hor, tutto inun punto ardresi.

Non temer tu, se vivrai puro ed humile,
Trà servi miei, ch'in pianto, e'n preghi vagliano,
E di Dio l'ira, e'l giusto sdegno applacano.

Capir non puoi, come l'ardenti lagrime
Del Pastor santo e di cor dolce spetrino,
E del mio Ner, quanto le voci impetrino.

Più larga à poverise Roma veggemi,
Non cerchi al Tevere marmo, ne porfido,
Che non più inondarà chiaro, ne torbido.

Vien' ogni mal d'alta radice, faitula?
Cupidigia è, che carne, è sangue germina,
Ed Alteriggia poi, che'l Mondo estermina.

Nasce ogni ben da puro amor, che l'odio
Di se produce, e Dio sol vole, e bramalo,
Felice'l cor che n'arde, e più non lasciabo.

English.png English translation

Serious, tremendous rebuke
made by the Blessed Virgin
but consoling at the end.

 All that you foolishly admired and your heart trembles:
The Tebro is spread wide:
Is Rom for grave sins flooded?

Two great abysses drawn to each other invoke it,
The one is sins and the other wrath greatly provoked.
The flood is very abundant.

The great laws order this flogging
Strike four, twenty, eight, seven, sixteen,
And as John of the Apocalypse proclaims fifteen times.

In the City, which has turned into Babylon,
Sound the trumpet loudly,
proclaiming amongst the peoples and cry out loud,

Shout as Jonah to the great Ninive:
Bring forth the Fruits of penance,
or the sword will be unleashed at this hour of your destiny.

Believe this is the lesser of scourges:
You are mildly punished by Trevere:
Else you would have tears of fire from heaven turning you to ash.

Were if it not for the child I bore,
he who fed on the milk of my breasts,
this dire hour would be even direr.

Fear not, you who live purely and humbly,
You among my servants, who in tears, and vigilance pray,
to appease God's wrath and righteous indignation.

You can not fathom how with burning tears
the Holy Pastor and sweet heart of the cross,
and my servants have tirelessly implored.

You great but poor Rome understand me,
Do not look for marble, porphyry in the Tiber,
It will no longer flood clear, turbid.

Will disease come, my faithful?
Greed there is in all that flesh, blood have germinated,
will the highest in wrath exterminate the World?

All this is born of pure love,
hatred produces itself, God only permits it.
happy is the heart that burns, and no longer leaves.