Song Cycle by Frank Martin (1890-1974)

1.

Authorship

by William Shakespeare (1564-1616) , no title, from The Tempest, Act I, scene 2

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Come unto these yellow sands,
Then take hands:
Curtsied when you have and kissed,
The wild waves whist:
Foot it featly here and there;
And, sweet sprites, the burthen bear.

Hark, hark!
Bow-wow.
The watch dogs bark;
Bow-wow.
Hark, hark!
I hear the strain of strutting chanticleer
Cry, Cock-a-diddle dow.

2.

Authorship

by William Shakespeare (1564-1616) , no title, from The Tempest, Act I, Scene 2

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Available translations (or transliterations, if applicable):

DUT Dutch (Lidy van Noordenburg)
NOR Norwegian (Bokmål) (Arild Bakke)
ITA Italian (Ferdinando Albeggiani)

Full fathom five thy father lies,
Of his bones are coral made;
Those are pearls that were his eyes:
Nothing of him that doth fade,
But doth suffer a sea-change
Into something rich and strange.
Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell:
Ding-dong.
Hark! now I hear them, - ding-dong bell.

3.

Authorship

by William Shakespeare (1564-1616) , no title, from The Tempest, Act IV, Scene 1

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Available translations (or transliterations, if applicable):

ITA Italian (Ferdinando Albeggiani)

Before you can say, "Come" and "Go",
And breathe twice, and cry, "So, so,"
Each one, tripping on his toe,
Will be here with mop and [mow]1.
[Do you love me, master? no?]2

4.

Authorship

by William Shakespeare (1564-1616) , no title, from The Tempest, Act III, Scene 3 (Ariel)

You are three men of sin, whom Destiny,
That hath to instrument this lower world
And what is in't, -- the never-surfeited sea
Hath caused to belch up you; and on this island
Where man doth not inhabit; you 'mongst men
Being most unfit to live. I have made you mad:
And even with such-like valour men hang and drown
Their proper selves. You fools! I and my fellows
Are ministers of fate: the elements
Of whom your swords are temper'd may as well
Wound the loud winds, or with bemock'd-at stabs
Kill the still-closing waters, as diminish
One dowle that's in my plume; my fellow-ministers
Are like invulnerable. If you could hurt,
Your swords are now too massy for your strengths,
And will not be uplifted. But, remember --
For that's my business to you, -- that you three
From Milan did supplant good Prospero;
Expos'd unto the sea, which hath requit it,
Him, and his innocent child: for which foul deed
The powers, delaying, not forgetting, have
Incens'd the seas and shores, yea, all the creatures,
Against your peace. Thee of thy son, Alonso,
They have bereft; and do pronounce, by me
Lingering perdition, -- worse than any death
Can be at once, -- shall step by step attend
You and your ways; whose wraths to guard you from--
Which here, in this most desolate isle, else falls
Upon your heads, -- is nothing but heart-sorrow,
And a clear life ensuing.

5.

Authorship

by William Shakespeare (1564-1616) , no title, from The Tempest, Act V, Scene 1

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Where the bee sucks there [suck]1 I:
In a cow-slip's [bell]2 I lie;
There I couch when owls do cry.
On a bat's back [I do]3 fly
  after [summer]4 merrily,
Merrily, merrily shall I live now
Under the blossom that hangs on the bough.

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