
Sonnet 017 - Tempore Venturo (Who will believe my verse in time to come)
gothic chant, syllabic adaptation, solo voice, echo, female vocals, harmony, acapella
July 6th, 2024suno
Lyrics
Quis | cre | det | car | mi | ni | me | o | in | tem | po | re | ven | tu | ro,
Si | im | ple | tum | es | set | me | ri | tis | tu | is | al | tis | si | mis?
Quam | quam | ad | huc | cae | lum | scit | id | es | se | tam | quam | se | pul | crum
Quod | vi | tam | tu | am | ce | lat, | et | non | di | mi | di | um | par | ti | um | tu | a | rum | os | ten | dit.
Si | pos | sem | scri | be | re | pul | chri | tu | di | nem | o | cu | lo | rum | tu | o | rum,
Et | in | nu | me | ris | re | cen | ti | bus | nu | me | ra | re | om | nes | gra | ti | as | tu | as,
Ae | tas | ven | tu | ra | di | ce | ret | 'Hic | poe | ta | men | dax | est;
Ta | les | cae | les | tes | tan | gen | di | num | quam | te | ti | ge | runt | vul | tus | ter | re | nos.'
I | ta | que | char | tae | me | ae, | ae | ta | te | fla | ve | scentes,
Con | tem | ne | ren | tur, | si | cut | se | nes | mi | nus | ve | ri | ta | tis | quam | lin | guae,
Et | ve | ra | iu | ra | tu | a | vo | ca | ren | tur | fu | ror | poe | tae
Et | ex | ten | sum | me | trum | an | ti | qui | car | mi | nis:
Sed | si | a | li | quis | pu | er | tu | us | vi | vus | es | set | il | lo | tem | po | re,
Bis | vi | ve | res; | in | e | o, | et | in | car | mi | ne | me | o.
Who will believe my verse in time to come,
If it were filled with your most high deserts?
Though yet heaven knows it is but as a tomb
Which hides your life, and shows not half your parts.
If I could write the beauty of your eyes,
And in fresh numbers number all your graces,
The age to come would say 'This poet lies;
Such heavenly touches ne'er touched earthly faces.'
So should my papers, yellowed with their age,
Be scorned, like old men of less truth than tongue,
And your true rights be termed a poet's rage
And stretched metre of an antique song:
But were some child of yours alive that time,
You should live twice; in it, and in my rhyme.
Quis credet carmini meo in tempore venturo,
Si impletum esset meritis tuis altissimis?
Quamquam adhuc caelum scit id esse tamquam sepulcrum
Quod vitam tuam celat, et non dimidium partium tuarum ostendit.
Si possem scribere pulchritudinem oculorum tuorum,
Et in numeris recentibus numerare omnes gratias tuas,
Aetas ventura diceret 'Hic poeta mendax est;
Tales caelestes tangendi numquam tetigerunt vultus terrenos.'
Itaque chartae meae, aetate flavescentes,
Contemnerentur, sicut senes minus veritatis quam linguae,
Et vera iura tua vocarentur furor poetae
Et extensum metrum antiqui carminis:
Sed si aliquis puer tuus vivus esset illo tempore,
Bis viveres; in eo, et in carmine meo.
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