Beim Scheiden (Robert Franz)

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In original German

• (Posted 2020-12-19)  CPDL #62045:     

Editor: Nikolaus Hold (submitted 2020-12-19).   Score information: A4, 4 pages, 76 kB   Copyright: CC BY NC

Edition notes:

In English translation; At parting

• (Posted 2020-01-02)  CPDL #56492:         

Editor: James Gibb (submitted 2020-01-02).   Score information: A4, 5 pages, 97 kB   Copyright: CPDL

Edition notes:

General Information

German Title: Beim Scheiden
English Title: At parting
Work: Sechs Lieder für gemischten Chor, Op.24
Composer: Robert Franz
Lyricist: Karl Wilhelm Osterwald

Number of voices: 4vv   Voicing: SATB
Genre: Secular, Partsong

Language: English
Instruments: Keyboard

First published: 1856 Leipzig: F. Whistling
    2nd published: 1879 in Novello's Part-Song Book (2nd series), Vol. 12, no. 335
    3rd published: 1881 in Zweites Volksgesangbuch für den gemischten Chor (Ignaz Heim), no. 45

Description: Translated from the German of Karl Wilhelm Osterwald by John Troutbeck. 6 Lieder für gemischten Chor Op.24, no.2.

Original text and translations

German text Zwei Röslein tät sie schneiden, zwei Röslein rot wie Blut und frisch wie ihre Wangen, die steckt' sie mir beim Scheiden, da sie mein Arm umfangen, mit Tränen auf den Hut. "Lieber Schatz, nun lass Dein Weinen, die Liebe welket nicht, so wie die Rosen sterben." So ging ich von der Meinen und sahe weiß sich färben ihr lieblich Angesicht. Die Rose welket schnelle und wird bald wieder grün, dann röten sich die Wangen: und an der lieben Stelle, wo rote Rosen prangen, wird auch die Myrte blüh'n.

English text Two roses did she give me, Two roses blushing red, Her cheeks as brightly glowing. She lingered, loath to leave me, When I from her was going, And bitter tears were shed. "Dearest heart, now cease from grieving, True love will never fail. Like tender roses dying." And then, mine own one leaving, I saw, the snow outvieing, Her lovely face grow pale. But as roses, quickly fading, Are quickly green once more, Her cheeks full soon were glowing, And that dear face o'ershading, Where roses fair were blowing, A myrtle wreath she wore. Translation by John Troutbeck