John Dowland - From silent night - текст песни (слова)

From silent night, true register of moanes,
 From saddest Soule consumde with deepest sinnes,
 From hart quite rent with sighes and heavie groanes,
 My wayling Muse her wofull worke beginnes.
 And to the world brings tunes of sad despaire,
 Sounding nought else but sorrow, griefe and care.
 Sorrow to see my sorrowes cause augmented,
 and yet lesse sorrowfull were my sorrowes more:
 Griefe that my griefe with griefe is not prevented,
 for griefe it is must east my grieved sore.
 Thus griefe and sorrow cares but how to grieve,
 For griefe and sorrow must my cares relieve.
 If any eye therefore can spare a teare
 to fill the well-spring that must wet my cheekes,
 O let that eye to this sad feast draw neere,
 refuse me not my humble soule beseekes:
 For all the teares mine eyes have ever wept
 Were now too little had they all beene kept.