(John Dowland)
[Instrumental]
Sting - Songs from the Labyrinth Album Lyrics
Sting - Songs from the Labyrinth Lyrics
- Walsingham
- Can She Excuse My Wrongs?
- Ryght Honorable...
- Flow, My Tears (Lachrimae)
- ...Then in Time Passing On...
- The Battle Galliard
- ... And Accordinge as I Desired Ther Cam a Letter...
- Fine Knacks For Ladies
- ...From Thence I Went to Landgrave of Hessen...
- Come Heavy Sleep
- Forlorn Hope Fancy
- ...And From Thence I Had Great Desire To See Italy...
- Wilt Thou Unkind Thus Reave Me
- ...After My Departures I Caled to Mynde...
- Weep You No More, Sad Fountains
- My Lord Willoughbys Welcome Home
- Clear Or Cloudy
- ...Men Say That the Kinge of Spain...
- Flow My Tears [live at St Luke Old Street - bonus track on 2013
- The Lowest Trees Have Tops
- Fantasy
- Come Again
- Have You Seen The Bright Lily Grow
- In Darkness Let Me Dwell
- Hellhound on My Trail
- Fields Of Gold
- Message In A Bottle
Copyright: Lyrics © Original Writer and Publisher
Can She Excuse My Wrongs?
(John Dowland)
Can she excuse my wrongs with Virtue's cloak?
Shall I call her good when she proves unkind?
Are those clear fires which vanish into smoke?
Must I praise the leaves where no fruit I find?
No, no, where shadows do for bodies stand
Thou may'st be abus'd if thy sight be dimmed
Cold love is like to words written on sand
Or to bubbles which on the water swim
Wilt thou be thus abused still
Seeing that she will right thee never?
If thou cans't not o'ercome her will
Thy love will be thus fruitless ever
Wilt thou be thus abused still
Seeing that she will right thee never?
If thou cans't not o'ercome her will
Thy love will be thus fruitless ever
Was I so base, that I might not aspire
Unto those high joys which she holds from me?
As they are high, so high is my desire
If she this deny, what can granted be?
If she will yield to that which Reason is
It is Reason's will that Love should be just
Dear, make me happy still by granting this
Or cut off delays if that I die must
Better a thousand times to die
Than for to live thus still tormented
Dear, but remember it was I
Who for thy sake did die contented
Better a thousand times to die
Than for to live thus still tormented
Dear, but remember it was I
Who for thy sake did die contented
Can she excuse my wrongs with Virtue's cloak?
Shall I call her good when she proves unkind?
Are those clear fires which vanish into smoke?
Must I praise the leaves where no fruit I find?
No, no, where shadows do for bodies stand
Thou may'st be abus'd if thy sight be dimmed
Cold love is like to words written on sand
Or to bubbles which on the water swim
Wilt thou be thus abused still
Seeing that she will right thee never?
If thou cans't not o'ercome her will
Thy love will be thus fruitless ever
Wilt thou be thus abused still
Seeing that she will right thee never?
If thou cans't not o'ercome her will
Thy love will be thus fruitless ever
Was I so base, that I might not aspire
Unto those high joys which she holds from me?
As they are high, so high is my desire
If she this deny, what can granted be?
If she will yield to that which Reason is
It is Reason's will that Love should be just
Dear, make me happy still by granting this
Or cut off delays if that I die must
Better a thousand times to die
Than for to live thus still tormented
Dear, but remember it was I
Who for thy sake did die contented
Better a thousand times to die
Than for to live thus still tormented
Dear, but remember it was I
Who for thy sake did die contented
Writer: JOHN DOWLAND
Copyright: Lyrics © EC SCHIRMER MUSIC CO
Copyright: Lyrics © EC SCHIRMER MUSIC CO
Ryght Honorable...
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Copyright: Lyrics © Original Writer and Publisher
Flow, My Tears (Lachrimae)
Flow my teares fall from your springs,
Exilde for ever: Let me morne
Where nights black bird hir sad infamy sings,
There let me live forlorne.
Downe vaine lights shine you no more,
No nights are dark enough for those
That in dispaire their last fortunes deplore,
Light doth but shame disclose.
Never may my woes be relieved,
Since pittie is fled,
And teares, and sighes, and grones
My wearie days of all joyes have deprived.
From the highest spire of contentment,
My fortune is throwne,
And feare, and griefe, and paine
For my deserts, are my hopes since hope is gone.
Hark you shadowes that in darnesse dwell,
Learn to contemne light,
Happy that in hell
Feele not the worlds despite.
Exilde for ever: Let me morne
Where nights black bird hir sad infamy sings,
There let me live forlorne.
Downe vaine lights shine you no more,
No nights are dark enough for those
That in dispaire their last fortunes deplore,
Light doth but shame disclose.
Never may my woes be relieved,
Since pittie is fled,
And teares, and sighes, and grones
My wearie days of all joyes have deprived.
From the highest spire of contentment,
My fortune is throwne,
And feare, and griefe, and paine
For my deserts, are my hopes since hope is gone.
Hark you shadowes that in darnesse dwell,
Learn to contemne light,
Happy that in hell
Feele not the worlds despite.
Writer: EDIN KARAMAZOV, GORDON SUMNER, TRAD, Traditional
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
...Then in Time Passing On...
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Copyright: Lyrics © Original Writer and Publisher
The Battle Galliard
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Copyright: Lyrics © Original Writer and Publisher
... And Accordinge as I Desired Ther Cam a Letter...
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Copyright: Lyrics © Original Writer and Publisher
Fine Knacks For Ladies
Fine knacks for ladies, cheap, choice, brave and new,
Good pennyworths but money cannot move,
I keep a fair but for the fair to view,
A beggar may be liberal of love.
Though all my wares be trash, the heart is true.
Great gifts are guiles and look for gifts again,
My trifles come as treasures from my mind,
It is a precious jewel to be plain,
Sometimes in shell the Orient's pearls we find.
Of others take a sheaf, of me a grain.
Within this pack pins, points, laces and gloves,
And divers toys fitting a country fair,
But in my heart, where duty serves and loves,
Turtles and twins, Court's brood, a heav'nly pair.
Happy the man that thinks of no removes.
Good pennyworths but money cannot move,
I keep a fair but for the fair to view,
A beggar may be liberal of love.
Though all my wares be trash, the heart is true.
Great gifts are guiles and look for gifts again,
My trifles come as treasures from my mind,
It is a precious jewel to be plain,
Sometimes in shell the Orient's pearls we find.
Of others take a sheaf, of me a grain.
Within this pack pins, points, laces and gloves,
And divers toys fitting a country fair,
But in my heart, where duty serves and loves,
Turtles and twins, Court's brood, a heav'nly pair.
Happy the man that thinks of no removes.
Writer: EDIN KARAMAZOV, GORDON SUMNER, TRADITIONAL
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
...From Thence I Went to Landgrave of Hessen...
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Copyright: Lyrics © Original Writer and Publisher
Come Heavy Sleep
Come heavy sleepe the image of true death
And close up these my weary weeping eyes
Whose spring of tears doth stop my vitall breath
And tears my hart with sorrows sigh swoln cries
Come and posses my tired thoughts worn soul
That living dies, that living dies, that living dies
Till thou on me be stoule
Come and posses my tired thoughts worn soul
That living dies, that living dies, that living dies
Till thou on me be stoule
Come shape of rest and shadow of my end
Allied to death child to his blackfac'd, his blackfac'd night
Come thou and charme these rebels in my breast
Whose waking fancies doe my mind affright
O come sweet sleepe come or I die for ever
Come ere my last, comes come ere my last sleepe comes
Or come, or come never
And close up these my weary weeping eyes
Whose spring of tears doth stop my vitall breath
And tears my hart with sorrows sigh swoln cries
Come and posses my tired thoughts worn soul
That living dies, that living dies, that living dies
Till thou on me be stoule
Come and posses my tired thoughts worn soul
That living dies, that living dies, that living dies
Till thou on me be stoule
Come shape of rest and shadow of my end
Allied to death child to his blackfac'd, his blackfac'd night
Come thou and charme these rebels in my breast
Whose waking fancies doe my mind affright
O come sweet sleepe come or I die for ever
Come ere my last, comes come ere my last sleepe comes
Or come, or come never
Writer: GEORGE ARTHUR KENTROS, JOHN DOWLAND, MATS OVE ANDERS OLOFSSON, MIKAEL CARL MARIN, PETER OLOFSSON, TONY BAUER
Copyright: Lyrics © Wixen Music Publishing, Universal Music Publishing Group
Copyright: Lyrics © Wixen Music Publishing, Universal Music Publishing Group
Copyright: Lyrics © Original Writer and Publisher
...And From Thence I Had Great Desire To See Italy...
(John Dowland)
[Extract from a letter to Sir Robert Cecil...]
[Extract from a letter to Sir Robert Cecil...]
Copyright: Lyrics © Original Writer and Publisher
Wilt Thou Unkind Thus Reave Me
Wilt thou unkind thus reave me
Of my heart, of my heart,
And so leave me, and so leave me?
Wilt thou unkind thus reave me
Of my heart, of my heart,
And so leave me, and so leave me?
Farewell! Farewell!
But yet or e'er I part, O cruel,
Kiss me, sweet, kiss me,
Sweet, sweet my jewel.
Hope by disdain grows cheerless,
Fear doth love, love doth fear
Beauty peerless, beauty peerless.
Farewell! Farewell!
But yet or e'er I part, O cruel,
Kiss me, sweet, kiss me,
Sweet, sweet my jewel.
If no delayes can move thee,
Life shall die, death shall live
Still to love thee, still to love thee?
Farewell! Farewell!
But yet or e'er I part, O cruel,
Kiss me, sweet, kiss me,
Sweet, sweet my jewel.
Yet be thou mindfull ever,
Heat from fire, fire from heat
None can see sever, none can sever
Farewell! Farewell!
But yet or e'er I part, O cruel,
Kiss me, sweet, kiss me,
Sweet, sweet my jewel.
True love cannot be changed
Though delight from desert
Be estranged, be estranged.
Farewell! Farewell!
But yet or e'er I part, O cruel,
Kiss me, sweet, kiss me,
Sweet, sweet my jewel.
Of my heart, of my heart,
And so leave me, and so leave me?
Wilt thou unkind thus reave me
Of my heart, of my heart,
And so leave me, and so leave me?
Farewell! Farewell!
But yet or e'er I part, O cruel,
Kiss me, sweet, kiss me,
Sweet, sweet my jewel.
Hope by disdain grows cheerless,
Fear doth love, love doth fear
Beauty peerless, beauty peerless.
Farewell! Farewell!
But yet or e'er I part, O cruel,
Kiss me, sweet, kiss me,
Sweet, sweet my jewel.
If no delayes can move thee,
Life shall die, death shall live
Still to love thee, still to love thee?
Farewell! Farewell!
But yet or e'er I part, O cruel,
Kiss me, sweet, kiss me,
Sweet, sweet my jewel.
Yet be thou mindfull ever,
Heat from fire, fire from heat
None can see sever, none can sever
Farewell! Farewell!
But yet or e'er I part, O cruel,
Kiss me, sweet, kiss me,
Sweet, sweet my jewel.
True love cannot be changed
Though delight from desert
Be estranged, be estranged.
Farewell! Farewell!
But yet or e'er I part, O cruel,
Kiss me, sweet, kiss me,
Sweet, sweet my jewel.
Writer: EDIN KARAMAZOV, GORDON SUMNER, TRADITIONAL
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
...After My Departures I Caled to Mynde...
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Copyright: Lyrics © Original Writer and Publisher
Weep You No More, Sad Fountains
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Copyright: Lyrics © Original Writer and Publisher
Copyright: Lyrics © Original Writer and Publisher
Clear Or Cloudy
Cleare or cloudie sweet as April showring,
Smooth or frowning so is hir face to mee,
Pleasd or smiling like milde May all flowring,
When skies blew silke and medowes carpets bee,
Hir speeches notes of that night bird that singeth,
Who thought all sweet yet jarring notes outringeth.
Hir grace like June, when earth and trees bee trimde,
In best attire of compleat beauties height,
Hir love againe like sommers daies bee dimde,
With little cloudes of doubtfull constant faith,
Hir trust hir doubt, like raine and heat in Skies,
Gently thundring, she lightning to mine eies.
Sweet sommer spring that breatheth life and growing,
In weedes as into herbs and flowers,
And sees of service divers sorts in sowing,
Some haply seeming and some being yours,
Raine on your herbs and flowers that truly serve,
And let your weeds lack dew and duly starve.
Smooth or frowning so is hir face to mee,
Pleasd or smiling like milde May all flowring,
When skies blew silke and medowes carpets bee,
Hir speeches notes of that night bird that singeth,
Who thought all sweet yet jarring notes outringeth.
Hir grace like June, when earth and trees bee trimde,
In best attire of compleat beauties height,
Hir love againe like sommers daies bee dimde,
With little cloudes of doubtfull constant faith,
Hir trust hir doubt, like raine and heat in Skies,
Gently thundring, she lightning to mine eies.
Sweet sommer spring that breatheth life and growing,
In weedes as into herbs and flowers,
And sees of service divers sorts in sowing,
Some haply seeming and some being yours,
Raine on your herbs and flowers that truly serve,
And let your weeds lack dew and duly starve.
Writer: EDIN KARAMAZOV, GORDON SUMNER, TRADITIONAL
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
...Men Say That the Kinge of Spain...
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Copyright: Lyrics © Original Writer and Publisher
Flow My Tears [live at St Luke Old Street - bonus track on 2013
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Copyright: Lyrics © Original Writer and Publisher
The Lowest Trees Have Tops
(John Dowland)
The lowest trees have tops, the ant her gall
The fly her spleen, the little spark his heat;
The slender hairs cast shadows, through but small,
And bees have stings, although they be not great;
Seas have their source, and so have shallow springs;
And love is love, in beggars and in kings.
Where waters smoothest run, there deepest are the fords,
The dial stirs, yet none perceives it move;
The firmest faith is found in fewest words,
The turtles cannot sing, and yet they love;
True hearts have ears, and eyes, no tongues to speak;
They hear, and see, and sign, and then they break
The lowest trees have tops, the ant her gall
The fly her spleen, the little spark his heat;
The slender hairs cast shadows, through but small,
And bees have stings, although they be not great;
Seas have their source, and so have shallow springs;
And love is love, in beggars and in kings.
Where waters smoothest run, there deepest are the fords,
The dial stirs, yet none perceives it move;
The firmest faith is found in fewest words,
The turtles cannot sing, and yet they love;
True hearts have ears, and eyes, no tongues to speak;
They hear, and see, and sign, and then they break
Writer: EDIN KARAMAZOV, GORDON SUMNER, JOHN DOWLAND
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
Copyright: Lyrics © Original Writer and Publisher
Come Again
(John Dowland)
Come again! sweet love doth now invite
Thy graces that refrain
To do me due delight,
To see, to hear, to touch, to kiss, to die,
With thee again in sweetest sympathy.
Come again! that I may cease to mourn
Through thy unkind disdain;
For now left and forlorn
I sit, I sigh, I weep, I faint, I die
In deadly pain and endless misery.
All the day the sun that lends me shine
By frowns doth cause me pine
And feeds me with delay;
Her smiles, my springs that makes my joy to grow,
Her frowns the winter of my woe.
All the night my sleeps are full of dreams,
My eyes are full of streams.
My heart takes no delight
Come again! sweet love doth now invite
Thy graces that refrain
To do me due delight,
To see, to hear, to touch, to kiss, to die,
With thee again in sweetest sympathy.
Come again! that I may cease to mourn
Through thy unkind disdain;
For now left and forlorn
I sit, I sigh, I weep, I faint, I die
In deadly pain and endless misery.
All the day the sun that lends me shine
By frowns doth cause me pine
And feeds me with delay;
Her smiles, my springs that makes my joy to grow,
Her frowns the winter of my woe.
All the night my sleeps are full of dreams,
My eyes are full of streams.
My heart takes no delight
Writer: TONY BAUER, GEORGE ARTHUR KENTROS, MIKAEL CARL MARIN, MATS OVE ANDERS OLOFSSON, PETER OLOFSSON, JOHN DOWLAND
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Warner Chappell Music, Inc., Universal Music Publishing Group
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Warner Chappell Music, Inc., Universal Music Publishing Group
Have You Seen The Bright Lily Grow
Have you seen but a bright lily grow Before rude hands have touched it?
Have you marked but the fall of snow
Before the soil hath smutched it?
Have you felt the wool of beaver,
Or swan's down ever?
Or have smelt o' the bud o' the brier,
Or the nard in the fire?
Or have tasted the bag of the bee?
O so white, O so soft, O so sweet is she!
Have you marked but the fall of snow
Before the soil hath smutched it?
Have you felt the wool of beaver,
Or swan's down ever?
Or have smelt o' the bud o' the brier,
Or the nard in the fire?
Or have tasted the bag of the bee?
O so white, O so soft, O so sweet is she!
Writer: EDIN KARAMAZOV, GORDON SUMNER, TRADITIONAL
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
In Darkness Let Me Dwell
In darkness let me dwell; the ground shall sorrow be,
The roof despair, to bar all cheerful light from me;
The walls of marble black, that moist'ned still shall weep;
My music, hellish jarring sounds, to banish friendly sleep.
Thus, wedded to my woes, and bedded in my tomb,
O let me dying live, till death doth come, till death doth come.
In darkness let me dwell
The roof despair, to bar all cheerful light from me;
The walls of marble black, that moist'ned still shall weep;
My music, hellish jarring sounds, to banish friendly sleep.
Thus, wedded to my woes, and bedded in my tomb,
O let me dying live, till death doth come, till death doth come.
In darkness let me dwell
Writer: EDIN KARAMAZOV, GORDON SUMNER, TRADITIONAL
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
Hellhound on My Trail
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Copyright: Lyrics © Original Writer and Publisher
Fields Of Gold
You'll remember me when the west wind moves
Upon the fields of barley
You'll forget the sun in his jealous sky
As we walk in fields of gold
So she took her love for to gaze awhile
Upon the fields of barley
In his arms she fell as her hair came down
Among the fields of gold
Will you stay with me? Will you be my love?
Among the fields of barley
We'll forget the sun in his jealous sky
As we lie in fields of gold
See the west wind move like a lover so
Upon the fields of barley
Feel her body rise when you kiss her mouth
Among the fields of gold
I never made promises lightly
And there have been some that I've broken
But I swear in the days still left
We'll walk in fields of gold
We walk in fields of gold
Many years have passed since those summer days
Among the fields of barley
See the children run as the sun goes down
Among the fields of gold
You'll remember me when the west wind moves
Upon the fields of barley
You can tell the sun in his jealous sky
When we walked in fields of gold
When we walked in fields of gold
When we walked in fields of gold
Upon the fields of barley
You'll forget the sun in his jealous sky
As we walk in fields of gold
So she took her love for to gaze awhile
Upon the fields of barley
In his arms she fell as her hair came down
Among the fields of gold
Will you stay with me? Will you be my love?
Among the fields of barley
We'll forget the sun in his jealous sky
As we lie in fields of gold
See the west wind move like a lover so
Upon the fields of barley
Feel her body rise when you kiss her mouth
Among the fields of gold
I never made promises lightly
And there have been some that I've broken
But I swear in the days still left
We'll walk in fields of gold
We walk in fields of gold
Many years have passed since those summer days
Among the fields of barley
See the children run as the sun goes down
Among the fields of gold
You'll remember me when the west wind moves
Upon the fields of barley
You can tell the sun in his jealous sky
When we walked in fields of gold
When we walked in fields of gold
When we walked in fields of gold
Writer: Gordon Sumner
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Message In A Bottle
Just a castaway
An island lost at sea
Another lonely day
With no one here but me
More loneliness
Than any man could bear
Rescue me before I fall into despair
I'll send an SOS to the world [2x]
I hope that someone gets my [3x]
Message in a bottle [2x]
A year has passed since I wrote my note
But I should have known this right from the start
Only hope can keep me together
Love can mend your life
But love can break your heart
I'll send an SOS to the world [2x]
I hope that someone gets my [3x]
Message in a bottle [4x]
Walked out this morning
Don't believe what I saw
A hundred billion bottles
Washed up on the shore
Seems I'm not alone at being alone
A hundred billion castaways
Looking for a home
I'll send an SOS to the world [2x]
I hope that someone gets my [3x]
Message in a bottle [4x]
Sending out an SOS [16x]
An island lost at sea
Another lonely day
With no one here but me
More loneliness
Than any man could bear
Rescue me before I fall into despair
I'll send an SOS to the world [2x]
I hope that someone gets my [3x]
Message in a bottle [2x]
A year has passed since I wrote my note
But I should have known this right from the start
Only hope can keep me together
Love can mend your life
But love can break your heart
I'll send an SOS to the world [2x]
I hope that someone gets my [3x]
Message in a bottle [4x]
Walked out this morning
Don't believe what I saw
A hundred billion bottles
Washed up on the shore
Seems I'm not alone at being alone
A hundred billion castaways
Looking for a home
I'll send an SOS to the world [2x]
I hope that someone gets my [3x]
Message in a bottle [4x]
Sending out an SOS [16x]
Writer: GORDON SUMNER
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
Songs from the Labyrinth is the eighth studio album by British singer-songwriter Sting. On this album, he collaborates with Bosnian lutenist Edin Karamazov. The album features music by John Dowland (1563-1626), a lutenist and songwriter. It entered the UK Official Albums Chart at number 24 and reached number 25 on the Billboard 200. The release was a slow seller for a Sting album, his first since 1986's Bring on the Night to fail to break the UK top 10.
The album was released and re-released in several versions: LP vinyl and CD editions with 23 tracks, a CD/DVD edition with 8 tracks on the CD and a DVD documentary, The Journey and the Labyrinth (released in both "CD size" and "DVD size" packaging), and a CD re-release with 26 tracks (including live versions of Sting's own "Fields of Gold" and "Message in a Bottle", originally recorded with The Police).
In late August 2013, a "Dowland Anniversary Edition" was released, which includes 32 tracks on one CD (the full original album, six live versions of album tracks and Sting's non-Dowland live songs), as well as a DVD with the original documentary.
Performed By:
StingThe album was released and re-released in several versions: LP vinyl and CD editions with 23 tracks, a CD/DVD edition with 8 tracks on the CD and a DVD documentary, The Journey and the Labyrinth (released in both "CD size" and "DVD size" packaging), and a CD re-release with 26 tracks (including live versions of Sting's own "Fields of Gold" and "Message in a Bottle", originally recorded with The Police).
In late August 2013, a "Dowland Anniversary Edition" was released, which includes 32 tracks on one CD (the full original album, six live versions of album tracks and Sting's non-Dowland live songs), as well as a DVD with the original documentary.
Genre(s): Classical, Renaissance music
Producer(s): Sting, Edin Karamazov
Length: 48:27
Released: October 10th, 2006
Year: 2006