by Anonymous / Unidentified Author
Who but a slave can well express
Language: English
Who but a slave can well express Of liberty the happiness; The wretched captive who is nobly born, Whose tender hands with rugged oars are worn Not half the miseries can prove, As I, unhappy I, have felt in love. Ah! powerful Love! what cursed arts Hast thou to torture human hearts; All the most strange and uncouth ways to die Found out to please a tyrant's cruelty. Fire, poison, racks, gammots and wheels But faintly copy what a lover feels. But being freed, methinks I stand Naked and shiv'ring on the strand, Cursing the treach'rous waves and winds but scorn Myself for leaving of my native shore. Thus my past follies make me wise And strongly guard me from a new surprise.
Authorship:
- by Anonymous / Unidentified Author [author's text not yet checked against a primary source]
Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive):
- by Henry Purcell (1658/9 - 1695), "Who but a slave can well express", Z. 440, published <<1683. [text verified 1 time]
Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]
This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 18
Word count: 123