Chillingham (Charles Villiers Stanford): Difference between revisions
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==Original text and translations== | ==Original text and translations== | ||
{{Text|English| | {{Text|English| | ||
O the high valley, the little low hill, | |||
And the cornfield over the sea, | |||
The wind that rages and then lies still, | |||
And the clouds that rest and flee! | |||
O the gray island in the rainbow haze, | |||
And the long thin spits of land, | |||
The roughening pastures and the stony ways, | |||
And the golden flash of the sand! | |||
O the red heather on the moss-wrought rock, | |||
And the fir-tree stiff and straight, | |||
The shaggy old sheep-dog barking at the flock, | |||
And the rotten old five-barred gate! | |||
O the brown bracken, the blackberry bough, | |||
The scent of the gorse in the air! | |||
I shall love them ever as I love them now, | |||
I shall weary in Heaven to be there!}} | |||
[[Category:Sheet music]] | [[Category:Sheet music]] | ||
[[Category:Early 20th century music]] | [[Category:Early 20th century music]] | ||
Revision as of 15:46, 2 March 2024
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- (Posted 2024-03-02) CPDL #79346:
- Editor: Ian Haslam (submitted 2024-03-02). Score information: A4, 4 pages, 97 kB Copyright: CPDL
- Edition notes:
General Information
Title: Chillingham
Composer: Charles Villiers Stanford
Lyricist: Mary Coleridgecreate page
Number of voices: 4vv Voicing: SATB
Genre: Secular, Partsong
Language: English
Instruments: A cappella
First published: 1910
Description: Originally published by Stainer and Bell, Op 119, No 7
External websites:
Original text and translations
English text
O the high valley, the little low hill,
And the cornfield over the sea,
The wind that rages and then lies still,
And the clouds that rest and flee!
O the gray island in the rainbow haze,
And the long thin spits of land,
The roughening pastures and the stony ways,
And the golden flash of the sand!
O the red heather on the moss-wrought rock,
And the fir-tree stiff and straight,
The shaggy old sheep-dog barking at the flock,
And the rotten old five-barred gate!
O the brown bracken, the blackberry bough,
The scent of the gorse in the air!
I shall love them ever as I love them now,
I shall weary in Heaven to be there!