"O Echo, these woods with howling’s fill,
Sound off my grief, and never may it end,
Out of our sight the turn of hand is vanished,
Now we must reckon with scars upon the land.
Since then to death is gone a soul,
Your doleful tunes, sweet gods apply,
And you, o’ trees, if life there lies,
Now through tormented barks obtain.
The shrill resounding of my cries,
And let my breath, your branches cleave,
Distinguished now into words of woe,
That so may I my sorrows leave.
And thou poor Earth, whom fortunes taint,
In natures name shall suffer harm,
Upon thy face let ravens swarm,
A carrion of earthen fate.
O’ echo, all these woods with pain,
To all reach out my wailful will,
Shall all the sea thy tears now be,
As golds to rust, and nature still.
O’ light of sun, on the greyest day,
Help flourish now a youth again,
Embattled stags can antlers mend,
Unto man’s age, death doth descend
Nature with care we can revere,
And nurture, so it long remains,
Some men resolve to grow a life,
But others tear it down again"
Adapted from the poem ‘Since That To Death’
From the book ‘Arcadia’ by Philip Sidney (1590)
Lyrics provided by LRCLIB
