The glories of our blood and state (Charles Hubert Hastings Parry): Difference between revisions
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==Music files== | ==Music files== | ||
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*{{CPDLno|16374}} [http://imslp.org/wiki/The_Glories_of_Our_Blood_and_State_%28Parry%2C_Charles_Hubert_Hastings%29 {{net}}] | *{{PostedDate|2009-05-03}} {{CPDLno|16374}} [http://imslp.org/wiki/The_Glories_of_Our_Blood_and_State_%28Parry%2C_Charles_Hubert_Hastings%29 {{net}}] | ||
{{Contributor|Jim Cooke|2009-05-03}}{{ScoreInfo|A4|20|2642}}{{Copy|Public Domain}} | {{Contributor|Jim Cooke|2009-05-03}}{{ScoreInfo|A4|20|2642}}{{Copy|Public Domain}} | ||
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==General Information== | ==General Information== | ||
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{{Instruments|Piano}} | {{Instruments|Piano}} | ||
{{Pub|1|1891}} by Novello and Company, Ltd. | {{Pub|1|1891}} by Novello and Company, Ltd. | ||
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==Original text and translations== | ==Original text and translations== | ||
{{Text|English| | {{Text|English| |
Revision as of 01:30, 1 July 2021
Music files
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- Contributor: Jim Cooke (submitted 2009-05-03). Score information: A4, 20 pages, 2.58 MB Copyright: Public Domain
- Edition notes:
General Information
Title: The Glories of Our Blood and State
Composer: Charles Hubert Hastings Parry
Lyricist: James Shirley
Number of voices: 4vv Voicing: SATB
Genre: Secular, Anthem
Language: English
Instruments: Piano
First published: 1891
by Novello and Company, Ltd.
Description:
External websites:
Original text and translations
English text
The glories of our blood and state
Are shadows, not substantial things;
There is no armour against fate;
Death lays his icy hand on kings:
Sceptre and Crown
Must tumble down,
And in the dust be equal made
With the poor crooked scythe and spade.
Some men with swords may reap the field,
And plant fresh laurels where they kill:
But their strong nerves at last must yield;
They tame but one another still:
Early or late
They stoop to fate,
And must give up their murmuring breath
When they, pale captives, creep to death.
The garlands wither on your brow;
Then boast no more your mighty deeds;
Upon Death’s purple altar now
See where the victor-victim bleeds:
Your heads must come
To the cold tomb;
Only the actions of the just
Smell sweet, and blossom in their dust.