Barokni pisne

[sakul]

LE PASSANT
Que fais-tu la, ma Suzon,
Seulette sur le gazon?
Ne penses-tu pas, ma chere,
A la malice des loups
Qui viendront sur la fougere
Te surprendre tout a coup?

LA BERGERE
— Non, monsieur, je ne crains rien
Sous la garde de mon chien.
Je file ma quenouîllette
Et garde mon blanc troupeau.
Tranquillement sur l´herbette
Et point trop loin du hameau.

LE PASSANT
Il te faudrait un berger,
Belle, pour te soulager.
Si tu voulais tout a l'heure
Me recevoir pour amant,
Je prendrais soin a toute heure
De ton troupeau si charmant.

LA BERGERE
Non, monsieur, je ne veux point
Que vous preniez un tel soin.
A l'instant mon chien fidele
Est a mon commandement.
Il revient quand je l'appelle ;
il fait mon contentement.

LE PASSANT
— Appelle-le, si tu veux.
Mais j'accomplirai mes voux :
Laissez-moi prendre sur ta bouche
Seulement un doux baiser.
Ne sois point assez farouche
Que de me le refuser.

LA BERGERE
— Prenez-le, si vous voulez,
Mais tout de suite partez,
Car je saurais me défendre
Et faire ce que je dois.
Vous n'avez rien a prétendre,
Partez, monsieur, laissez-moi.

[sakul]

.

[Michal Medvěd]

"THE COUNTREY LASSE. (na melodii Stingo/Jucie of Barley)

To a daintie new note, which if you can hit,
There's another tune will as well fit."

To the tune of, the mother beguild the daughter.

[From a black letter copy printed for the Assigns of Symcocke.]

ALTHOUGH I am a country lass,
     A lofty mind I bear — a,
I think myself as good as those
     That gay apparell wear — a,
My coat is made of comely gray,
     Yet is my skin as soft — a,
As those that with the chiefest wines — a,
     Do hathe their bodies oft —  a,
Down, down derry, dery down,
     Heigh down a down a down a,
A dery, dery, dery, dery down,
     High down a down a dery.

What, though I keep my father's sheep,
     A thing that must he done — a,
A garland of the fairest flowers
     Shall shroud me from the sun — a,
And when I see them feeding be,
     Where grass and flowers spring,
Close by a crystal fountain side,
     I sit me down and sing — a.

Dame Nature crowns us with delight,
     Surpassing court or city,
We pleasures take from morn to night,
     In sports and pastimes pretty:
Your city dames in coaches ride
     Abroad for recreation,
We country lasses hate their pride,
     And keep the country fashion.

Your city wives lead wanton lives,
     And if they come in the country,
They are so Proud, that each one strives
     For to outbrave our gentry.
We country lasses homely be,
     For seat nor wall we strive not,
We are content with our degree,
     Our debtors we deprive not.

I care not for the fan or mask,
     When Titan's heat reflecteth,
A homely hat is all I ask,
     Which well my face Protecteth,
Yet I am in my country guise,
     Esteemed lass as pretty,
As those that every day devise,
     New shapes in court or city.

In every season of the year
     I undergo my labour,
No shower, nor wind, at all I fear.
     My limbs I do not favour,
If summer's heat, my beauty stain,
     It makes me ne'er the sicker,
Sith I can wash it off again
     With a cup of Christmas liquor.

SECOND PART.

At Christmas time in mirth and glee
     I dance with young men neatly,
And who in the city like to me,
     Shall surely taste completely,
No sport, but pride and luxury
     In the city can be found then,
But bounteous hospitality
     In the country doth abound then.

In the spring my labour yields delight,
     To walk in the merry morning,
When Flora is (to please my sight)
     The ground with flowers adorning
With merry lads to make the hay
     I go, and do not grumble,
My work doth seem to be but play,
     When with young men I tumble.

The lark and thrush from briar to bush
     Do leap, and skip and sing — a,
And all this then to welcome in
     The long and look'd for spring — a;
We fear not Cupid's arrows keen,
     Dame Venus we defy — a,
Diana is our honour'd Queen,
     And her we magnify — a.

That which your city damsels scorn,
     We hold our chiefest jewel,
Without, to work at hay and corn,
     Within, to bake and brew well,
To keep the dairy decently,
     And all things clean and neatly,
Your city minions do defy,
     Their scorn we weigh not greatly.

When we together a milking go
     With pails upon our heads — a,
And walking over woods and fields,
     Where grass and flowers spread — a,
In honest pleasure we delight,
     Which makes our labour sweet,
And mirth exceeds on every side
     When lads and lasses meet.

Then do not scorn a country lass,
     Though she be plain and meanly,
Who takes the country wench to wife,
      (That goeth neat and cleanly)
Is better sped, than if he wed
     A fine one from the city,
For then they are so nicely bred,
     They must not work for pity.

I speak not this to that intent,
      (As some may well conjecture),
As though to wooing I were bent,
     Nor I ne'er learn lover's lectures;
But what I sing is in defence
     Of all plain country lasses,
Whose modest honest innocence
     All city girls surpasses.

[Michal Medvěd]

Daphne.

[sakul]

Kdyztak sem ty texty hod

[MartinaV.]

Našla jsem jen noty na Daphne. Ale žádná slova, má-li to nějaká mít :) ...musíš kdyžtak dodat;-)

[Michal Medvěd]

Ještě by byly dobré ty, co měly jít do barokního celovečeráku, z hlavy si vybavím The Country Lass (na melodii Stingo/Jucie of Barley) a Daphne.

[sakul]

A neco klasiky ;-) Myslim, ze tyhle dve by pro loutnu, gambu a zpev fungovaly skvele. Fletna si muze vzit alt

[sakul]

Urcite mam nekde lepsi prepis, ale nemuzu ho najit. Takze si nevsimejte tech pismenek nad melodii, stejne jsou spatne. Pro harmonii plati ta basova linka

[sakul]

Ve zpivatelne tonine ;-) Sice jsme to chteli pouzit i na renesancni akci, ale neni to zadny problem, tahle pisen byla popularni od 15 do 17 stol. Btw stejne jako Suzanne, tu muzem pouzit taky.

[sakul]

To by mohlo byt solo + loutna, jen nevim, jestli to stihnem secvicit...

[sakul]

Par veci pro hudebni sekci. Jestli je chceme delat uz na Humprechte, tak by to chtelo brzy zkousku ;-)