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Testo della canzone: This little babe
This little Babe so few days old
is come to rifle Satan's fold;
all hell doth at his presence quake
though he himself for cold do shake;
for in this weak unarmèd wise
the gates of hell he will surprise.
With tears he fights and wins the field,
his naked breast stands for a shield;
his battering shot are babish cries,
his arrows looks of weeping eyes,
his martial ensigns Cold and Need
and feeble Flesh his warrior's steed.
His camp is pitchèd in a stall,
his bulwark but a broken wall;
the crib his trench, haystacks his stakes;
of shepherds he his muster makes;
and thus, as sure his foe to wound,
the angels' trump alarum sound.
My soul, with Christ join thou in fight,
stick to the tents that he hath pight.
Within his crib is surest ward,
this little Babe will be thy guard.
If thou wilt foil thy foes with joy,
then flit not from this heavenly Boy.
Bertram KottmannTraduzioni di “This little babe”
Benjamin Britten: 3 più popolari
| 1. | This little babe |
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| 3. | The evening primrose |
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lyrics by Robert Southwell (1561 - 1595)
set to music by Benjamin Britten, op. 28 no. 6 (1942) [treble chorus, solo voices, and harp], from "A Ceremony of Carols", no. 6.