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Dutch Song Database


Engelse tekst
[14] Beroemt Breda
Tekst van Cornelis Strib?e

Voys: Ach treurt nu myn bedroefde schapen

Orangiens Bellona: doort hart aen tasten, en Aprocheren op de groote Stadt Breda, verovert door zijn Hoogheyt den Prince van Orangien.

Beroemt Breda, gy hooft stadt vande steden
Gelegen in het schoonste van het Landt,
Brabantse pronck, men heeft om u gestreden
Vant eerste dat de vryheyt wiert geplant.
Nu komt Orangien, wil u maken vry
Vant Jock van Spangien, en van slaverny
En eyst zijn Barony.

Ons Bat'ryen, Reduyten en Loop-graven,
Die syn nu veerdich en haest opgemaeckt;
Het Grof-geschut de Paerden vast mee draven
Of schoon het spaens Canon syn vlamme braect.
Haest hoort ghy brallen 't braef Hollantse kruyt
Op uwe Wallen, dat het groot geluyt
Tot binnen Spangien stuyt.

Den Paus syn stoel die wil hem schier begeven.
Zyn Jesuijten, och zy klouwen 't hooft.
De spaenschen kroon die schijnt van angst te beven,
Mits hem een schoone Parel wert berooft.
Roemt dan Orangien, geeft syn hoogheyt lof,
Die 't trotse Spagnien snoeyt zyn wiecken of
En smijtse in het Stof.
[14] Beroemt Breda (Famous City of Breda, 1637)
Text by Cornelis Strib?e

Another song about the failed Spanish attack on the Dutch army besieging Breda, by the same poet.

Orange's Bellona [Goddess of War]: the city of Breda, captured by His Highness the Prince of Orange by vehemently attacking it and approaching it with trenches.

Tune: Oh, mourn my sorrowful sheep

Famed Breda, city high among cities
Lying in the loveliest part of the land,
The glory of Brabant; men have fought over you
Since freedom first appeared.
Now the Prince of Orange comes to free you
From the yoke of Spain, and from slavery,
And demands his barony.

Our batteries, redoubts, and trenches
Are now ready, and quickly manned;
The horses sturdily drag the heavy artillery,
Despite the Spanish cannon-fire.
Soon you shall hear Holland's guns answer bravely
Resounding on your ramparts,
A sound so great it reaches Spain itself.

It will nearly collapse the Pope's chair,
His Jesuits will tear their hair out.
The Spanish crown seems to tremble with fear,
As its pearl is robbed.
Praise the Prince of Orange, honor His Highness,
Who clips the wings of haughty Spain
And hurls them into the dust.

Camerata Trajectina (artiest), The Imperial Trumpets (artiest), Music for the Cardinal-Infante Ferdinand of Austria
2013
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