Alfonso Ferrabosco I - So far from my delight - текст песни (слова)

So far from my delight what cares torment me,
 Fields do record it and valleys and woods and mountains,
 And running rivers and reposed fountains,
 Where I cry out, and to the heav'ns lament me
 None other sounds but tunes of my complaining.
 
 Nymph of the groves of pleasant birds once heareth
 Still recount I my grief and her disdaining
 To ev'ry plant that groweth or blossom beareth.