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Welcome to Hyperion Records, an independent British classical label devoted to presenting high-quality recordings of music of all styles and from all periods from the twelfth century to the twenty-first.
Hyperion offers both CDs, and downloads in a number of formats. The site is also available in several languages.
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Pura, placens, pulcra, pia,
Quis laudabit te, Maria,
Vel qua laude hic in via?
Nullus nostra in natura.
Mens omnis est defectiva
Lingua et inexpressiva,
Cuncta nostra transis iura.
Quis scit et quantus vel qualis
Decor tuus corporalis?
Est, erit nec erat talis
Infra speram passivorum.
Omnis decor tibi favit,
Euclides te mensuravit,
Et Pimalion formavit,
Dulcis, decens doctrix morum.
Natura dedit colorem,
Zephirus confert odorem,
Super omnes fecit florem
Te creator creature.
Sonus dulcis tibi datur,
Orpheus unde frustratur,
Excellentem quem miratur
Pluto raptam reddens iure.
Omnis decor muliebris
Videntem clam vexat crebris
Motibus pravis ut febris,
Excepta te sola pura.
Tu delectaris videntes
Constantes tenere mentes
Aliud non inquirentes,
Fruuntur tua figura!
Parfundement plure Absolon
Le poil de son chief, e Jason
Plaint de sa toyson la colur,
E le solail ad grant dolour
Q’il ad perdu de sa clarté.
Hester regard humilité
E la simpleté de regard
E Helaine de l’autre parte
Tenge de honte sa fason
E Katerine pert resoun
E sens, n’est de stable maintens
Quant cele surement que je veie
A parfaite fors sulement
Qu’ele ne daigne nulement
Me face de long temps par desir,
Son plus loal ame, languir.
Pure, pleasing, fair, merciful,
who can praise you adequately, Mary,
or by what praise in the pilgrimage of life?
We mortals cannot do so.
You confound our power to form images,
every mind is inadequate to the task and
every tongue incapable of expression,
you bypass the laws of our world.
Who knows how great your physical beauty is
nor of what kind it is?
There neither was, is nor will be
another such in the sublunary world.
Sweet and fitting teacher of how to live,
you are favoured by every grace,
Euclid measured you,
and Pygmalion sculpted your image.
Nature gave colour,
the West Wind conferred odour,
and the creator of all things
made you the flower of all.
Sweet sound is offered to you,
whence Orpheus is frustrated,
the surpassing musician whom
Pluto saw duly bringing back the kidnapped Euridice.
Save with you alone, pure one,
every kind of beauty in women secretly disturbs
the viewer with numerous gestures
that are as wanton as feverish.
You delight those who look upon you—
the delicate and constant souls
that seek nothing else blossom
before your image!
Absolom weeps bitterly
for the hair on his head, and Jason
laments the colour of his fleece,
and the sun is deeply saddened
that he has lost his brilliance.
Esther admires humility
and the modesty of her glance,
and Helen, on the other hand,
must be ashamed of her appearance,
and Katherine loses her reason
and wisdom and is not of firm bearing
when indeed she whom I see
is perfection save
that she is not reluctan to make me,
her most loyal spirit,
sick with desire.