Song Cycle by Elizabeth Maconchy (1907-1994)

1. Come Away Death

Authorship

by William Shakespeare (1564-1616) , no title, from Twelfth Night, Act II, scene 4

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Available translations (or transliterations, if applicable):

NOR Norwegian (Bokmål) (Marianne Beate Kielland)

[Come away, come away, death]1,
And in sad cypress let me be laid;
Fly away, fly away, breath;
I am slain by a fair cruel maid.
My shroud of white, stuck all with yew,
[O prepare it!]2
My part of death, no one so true
Did share it.

Not a flower, not a flower sweet,
On my black coffin let there be strown;
Not a friend, not a friend greet
My poor corpse, where my bones shall be thrown:
[A thousand, [thousand]3 sighs to save,]4
Lay me, O where
[Sad]3 true lover never find my grave,
[To weep there!]5

2. Take O Take Those Lips Away

Authorship

by Anonymous/Unidentified Artist
sometimes misattributed to William Shakespeare (1564-1616)

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Available translations (or transliterations, if applicable):

FIN Finnish (Paavo Cajander)

Take, o take those lips away,
That so sweetly [were]1 forsworn;
And those eyes, the break of day,
Lights [that]2 do mislead the morn:
But my kisses bring again;
Seals of love, [but]3 seal'd in vain, sealed in vain.

Hide, o hide those hills of snow
that thy frozen bosom wears,
On whose tops the pinks that grow
are yet of those that April wears;
But first set my poor heart free,
Bound in those icy chains by thee.

3. King Stephen

Authorship

by William Shakespeare (1564-1616) , no title, from The Tragedy of Othello, the Moor of Venice, Act II, Scene 3

King Stephen was [and]1 a worthy peer,
His breeches cost him but a crown;
He held them sixpence all too dear,
With that he called the tailor lown.
He was a wight of high renown.
And thou art but of low degree:
'Tis pride that pulls the country down;
Then take thine auld cloak about thee.

4. The Wind and the Rain

Authorship

by William Shakespeare (1564-1616) , from Twelfth Night, Act V, Scene 1

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When that I was and a little tiny boy,
[With]1 hey, ho, the wind and the rain,
A foolish thing was but a toy,
For the rain it raineth every day.

But when I came to man's estate,
[With]1 hey, ho, the wind and the rain,
'Gainst knaves and thieves men shut their gate,
For the rain it raineth every day.

[ But when I came, alas! to wive,
[With]1 hey, ho, the wind and the rain,
By swaggering could I never thrive,
For the rain it raineth every day.]2

[ But when I came unto my beds,
With hey, ho, the wind and the rain,
With toss-pots still had drunken heads,
For the rain it raineth every day.]3

A great while ago the world [begun]4,
[With]1 hey, ho, the wind and the rain,
But that's all one, our play is done,
And we'll strive to please you every day.

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