Lagrimosa beltà (Giovanni Felice Sances)

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  • (Posted 2025-04-16)  CPDL #84521:       
Editor: Allen Garvin (submitted 2025-04-16).   Score information: Letter, 7 pages, 154 kB   Copyright: CC BY NC
Edition notes: Source files may be found on my github (linked from my CPDL profile).

General Information

Title: Lagrimosa beltà
Composer: Giovanni Felice Sances
Lyricist:
Number of voices: 2vv   Voicing: SS
Genre: SecularCantata

Language: Italian
Instruments: Basso continuo

First published: 1633 in Cantade a 1 e 2, libro secondo (Venice: Magni press), no. 12
Description:  sopra la ciacconaLink to the English Wikipedia article.

External websites:

Original text and translations

Italian.png Italian text

Lagrimosa beltà,
per cui già notte e dì
cotanto sospirai,
come sei tu divenuta così?

Il barbaro chi fu?
Qual cor pien d'impietà
potuto ha incrudelir contro di te?

Misero, ben io so—
né puoi negarlo a fé—
il tempo fu, l'età
che tanto vale e può
in languidito ha'l sen,
ha scolorito l'or del tuo bel crin.

Mirate, donne, il fin—
mirate che vien men ogni cosa mortal!
Col tempo, arte non val:
questo è colpo comun,
schermir nol puote alcun.
La pioggia vien talor
dopo il seren, e dopo il lampo il tuon.

Chi si mostrò crudel
non merita perdon,
e l'esser infedel
agli amanti è di turca empio rigor.

Aspeta' col simil:
rendete, donne, il cor
tutto pietoso e umil;
imparate a lasciar quel fasto alter,
raddolcite il pensier.
Il bello non risplende in costei più,
né si può dir: «qui fu.»

Dunque chi brama aver lunga beltà,
usi pietà.

English.png English translation

Tearful beauty,
for which once, night and day,
I sighed so much,
how did you become like this?

What was this barbarian?
What heart, full of impiety
could have been so cruel toward you?

Wretch, I know well—
nor by faith can you deny it—
it was time, [and] age
that, so strong, could have
weakened your breast,
dulled the gold of your fair hair.

Behold, ladies, at the end—
Behold how every mortal thing fades away!
With time, art does not prevail:
this is a common blow
that no one can parry.
Rain sometimes comes
after serene weather, and after lightning, the thunder.

Whoever showed such cruelty
does not merit a pardon,
and to be unfaithful
to one's lovers is like the harsh cruelty of the Turk.

Repay in kind:
ladies, render your heart
full of pity and humility;
learn to leave behind that haughty pride,
soften your thoughts.
Beauty no longer shines in her,
nor can one say: 'here it was.'

Therefore, she who yearns to have lasting beauty,
let her practice pity.

Translation by Allen Garvin