Second book, 10 O sweet woods the delight of solitarinesse. [Italian translation]

O sweet woods the delight of solitarinesse

O how much do I love your solitarinesse

From fames desire, from loves delight retir'd

In these sad groves an Hermits life I led

And those flase pleasures which once I admir'd

With sad remembrance of my fall, I dread

To birds to trees, to earth, impart I this

For shee less secret, and as senceless is

O sweet woods the delight of solitarinesse

O how much do I love your solitarinesse

You men that give false worship unto Love

And seke that which you never shall obtaine

The endlesse worke of Sisisphus you procure

Whose end is this, to know you strive in vaine

Hope and desire which now your Idols bee

You needs must loose and feele dispaire with mee

O sweet woods the delight of solitarinesse

O how much do I love your solitarinesse

You woods in you the fairest Nimphs have walked

Nimphs at whose sight all harts did yeeld to Love

You woods in whom deere lovers oft have talked

How doe you now a place of mourning prove

Wansted (1) my Mistres saith this is the doome

Thou art loves Childbed, Nursery, and Tombe

O sweet woods the delight of solitarinesse

O how much do I love your solitarinesse.

• Artist:John Dowland
• Album:Live 2021.