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==Music files==
==Music files==
{{Legend}}
{{#Legend:}}
 
*{{PostedDate|2006-03-10}} {{CPDLno|11206}} [[Media:Bird-ali.pdf|{{pdf}}]] [[Media:Bird-ali.mid|{{mid}}]] [[Media:Bird-ali.sib|{{sib}}]] (Sibelius 5)
*{{NewWork|2006-03-10}} '''CPDL #11206:''' [{{SERVER}}/wiki/images/5/5c/A_little_flock_from_Iceland.pdf {{pdf}}] [{{SERVER}}/wiki/images/4/42/A_little_flock_from_Iceland.mid {{mid}}] [{{SERVER}}/wiki/images/7/7e/A_little_flock_from_Iceland.nwc NoteWorthy Composer]
{{Editor|Peter Bird|2006-03-10}}{{ScoreInfo|Letter|53|917}}{{Copy|Personal}}
:'''Editor:''' [[User:Peter Bird|Peter Bird]] ''(added 2006-03-10)''.   '''Score information:''' Letter, 53 pages, 917 kbytes   '''Copyright:''' [[ChoralWiki:Personal|Personal]]
:'''Edition notes:''' Following the full score are: text pages containing the poems, with explanatory notes; flute part; violin part.
:'''Edition notes:''' Following the full score are: text pages containing the poems, with explanatory notes; flute part; violin part.


==General Information==
==General Information==
'''Title:''' ''A little flock from Iceland''<br>
'''Title:''' ''A little flock from Iceland''<br>
'''Composer:''' [[Peter Bird]]
{{Composer|Peter Bird}}


'''Number of voices:''' 4vv&nbsp;'''Voicing:''' SATB<br>
{{Voicing|4|SATB}}<br>
'''Genre:''' {{pcat|Secular| music}}, [[:Category:Partsongs|Partsongs]]<br>
{{Genre|Secular|Partsongs}}
'''Language:''' English<br>
{{Language|English}}
'''Instruments:''' SATB chorus, brief SATB solos, flute, and violin.<br>
{{Instruments|SATB chorus, brief SATB solos, flute, and violin.}}
'''Published:''' 2006
{{Pub|1|2006}}


'''Description:''' Based on 4 new narrative poems about dramatic encounters from ~900 AD to ~1250 AD. The first two are fiction, and the second two are based on historical events. Romantic in style; Modern in harmony. 18:15.
'''Description:''' Based on 4 new narrative poems about dramatic encounters from ~900 AD to ~1250 AD. The first two are fiction, and the second two are based on historical events. Romantic in style; Modern in harmony. 17:10.


'''External websites:''' http://peterbird.name/choral/
'''External websites:''' http://peterbird.name/choral/


==Original text and translations==
==Original text and translations==
{{Text|English}}
{{Text|English|
<br>
I. Lón
I. Lón<br>
Swans in Iceland: white on black.
<br>
Westward come wending, appearing in pairs;
Swans in Iceland: white on black.<br>
Strong wing beats thunder in crystalline air;
Westward come wending, appearing in pairs;<br>
Willfull to breed on the bourn of despair.
Strong wing beats thunder in crystalline air;<br>
Iceland, Ireland: out, and back.
Willfull to breed on the bourn of despair.<br>
 
Iceland, Ireland: out, and back.<br>
Men in longships, helmets bright,
<br>
Brought with them dozens of Ireland’s daughters.
Men in longships, helmets bright,<br>
Red-haired and white-robed, just as they caught her,
Brought with them dozens of Ireland’s daughters.<br>
One of them walks all alone by the water,
Red-haired and white-robed, just as they caught her,<br>
Chanting her heart-song to the night.
One of them walks all alone by the water,<br>
 
Chanting her heart-song to the night.<br>
“Eala naofa: Tromhad annall!
<br>
Mine are the people that open the granary,
“Eala naofa: Tromhad annall!<br>
Hallow the home-linn and safeguard the eyrie.
Mine are the people that open the granary,<br>
Hear when I cry to you; come to me swiftly!
Hallow the home-linn and safeguard the eyrie.<br>
An cuidich sibh mi do comhall?
Hear when I cry to you; come to me swiftly!<br>
“Seek a swan without a wife:
An cuidich sibh mi do comhall?<br>
Kelwyn mac Boynton, of husbands the best.
“Seek a swan without a wife:<br>
When he will once lay his head on my breast,
Kelwyn mac Boynton, of husbands the best.<br>
It’s I will go swim with him, even to death,
When he will once lay his head on my breast,<br>
Swan to be, beyond this life.”
It’s I will go swim with him, even to death,<br>
 
Swan to be, beyond this life.”<br>
Swans in Iceland watch their star;
<br>
Auger the season by scent of the beach-wrack.
Swans in Iceland watch their star;<br>
When the wind’s northerly, ice in the grass cracks,
Auger the season by scent of the beach-wrack.<br>
Wheeling they climb away, coasting the sea track.
When the wind’s northerly, ice in the grass cracks,<br>
Keening voices travel far.
Wheeling they climb away, coasting the sea track.<br>
 
Keening voices travel far.<br>
II. Grímsvötn
<br>
Mountain of ice, beacon of white
II. Grímsvötn<br>
Standing alone in the Arctic darkness,
<br>
Home to the swans flying, hope to the seafaring,
Mountain of ice, beacon of white<br>
Niflheim gleams in the morning light.
Standing alone in the Arctic darkness,<br>
 
Home to the swans flying, hope to the seafaring,<br>
Up on the glacier the ground is grumbling;
Niflheim gleams in the morning light.<br>
Krinkling cracks spring open quickly.
<br>
Blocks of blue ice topple thickly,
Up on the glacier the ground is grumbling;<br>
Grinding shards from bitter heights.
Krinkling cracks spring open quickly.<br>
 
Blocks of blue ice topple thickly,<br>
Swarthy mists in every cranney;
Grinding shards from bitter heights.<br>
Murky reeks of steam are rising
<br>
From a gaping hollow waxing
Swarthy mists in every cranney;<br>
‘Round a seething tarn uncanny.
Murky reeks of steam are rising<br>
 
From a gaping hollow waxing<br>
Now a groaning geyser opens;
‘Round a seething tarn uncanny.<br>
Red flame leaps to heat the oven;
<br>
Loki strains; a chain is broken;
Now a groaning geyser opens;<br>
Earth’s blood-rush is awoken.
Red flame leaps to heat the oven;<br>
 
Loki strains; a chain is broken;<br>
Ashes flying; wind arising;
Earth’s blood-rush is awoken.<br>
Thunder; spears of lightning crying:
<br>
Hell and Muspell are surprising
Ashes flying; wind arising;<br>
To the gothi skiing nearer.
Thunder; spears of lightning crying:<br>
 
Hell and Muspell are surprising<br>
“Othinn! Wise and just Allfather:
To the gothi skiing nearer.<br>
Bind the waters whirling blindly;
<br>
Tame the streaming torrent! Kindly
“Othinn! Wise and just Allfather:<br>
Spare your folk; you have no other.”
Bind the waters whirling blindly;<br>
 
Tame the streaming torrent! Kindly<br>
III. Vestur Grænland
Spare your folk; you have no other.”<br>
Leif Eiriksson of Vinland now returns  
<br>
To Eiriksfjord in Vestur Grænland
III. Vestur Grænland<br>
With wealth of furs and timber. In the stern
<br>
He watches fell and glacier running past
Leif Eiriksson of Vinland now returns <br>
To seek the floi where father’s fires burn.
To Eiriksfjord in Vestur Grænland<br>
They are alone. The shore is still and vast.
With wealth of furs and timber. In the stern<br>
There is a rock to larboard. Fleet and wary,
He watches fell and glacier running past<br>
He calls to tighten sail against the mast,
To seek the floi where father’s fires burn.<br>
Then takes the helm, turns to the wind, to tarry,
They are alone. The shore is still and vast.<br>
And still with vision sharp he skries the sky:
There is a rock to larboard. Fleet and wary,<br>
There is a wrecked ship upon the skerry.
He calls to tighten sail against the mast,<br>
And all might see, as drifting draws them nigh,
Then takes the helm, turns to the wind, to tarry,<br>
At least a dozen men; one woman’s form:
And still with vision sharp he skries the sky:<br>
Norwegians all, if clothing does not lie.
There is a wrecked ship upon the skerry.<br>
Then up speaks Leifur, with a welcome warm:
And all might see, as drifting draws them nigh,<br>
“I guess ye’ll deign to sail with us today!
At least a dozen men; one woman’s form:<br>
Drag up the wreck to keep it from the storm.
Norwegians all, if clothing does not lie.<br>
We’ll build another ship in some still bay;
Then up speaks Leifur, with a welcome warm:<br>
We have the timber and the ship-smith.
“I guess ye’ll deign to sail with us today!<br>
But do not hold that ye should fly away;
Drag up the wreck to keep it from the storm.<br>
I find thee kin and kith, and herewith
We’ll build another ship in some still bay;<br>
Bespeak my father’s will, inviting thee
We have the timber and the ship-smith.<br>
To dwell and winter in our Brattahlith,
But do not hold that ye should fly away;<br>
The homely house beyond the western sea.”
I find thee kin and kith, and herewith<br>
 
Bespeak my father’s will, inviting thee<br>
IV. Drangey
To dwell and winter in our Brattahlith,<br>
Bishop Guthmunder is rowing,
The homely house beyond the western sea.”<br>
Muttering banns to bind his temper:
<br>
To feed the hungry he must harvest
IV. Drangey<br>
Eggs and slippery svartifugi
<br>
From the cliffs and heaths of Drangey.
Bishop Guthmunder is rowing,<br>
So. The men he sends to nest
Muttering banns to bind his temper:<br>
And harry, taking ropes and timber,
To feed the hungry he must harvest<br>
Fall and die. The toll is growing.
Eggs and slippery svartifugi<br>
 
From the cliffs and heaths of Drangey.<br>
He says: “This island is no seemly seat
So. The men he sends to nest<br>
of elves, but moor of mórar, tangi of trolls,
And harry, taking ropes and timber,<br>
and geymir of the afturgangumenn.
Fall and die. The toll is growing.<br>
By vald of Christ I’ll rinse these ills, and then
<br>
We may have peace, and end these wraithly tolls,
He says: “This island is no seemly seat<br>
So godly folk can gain what’s good to eat.”
of elves, but moor of mórar, tangi of trolls,<br>
 
and geymir of the afturgangumenn.<br>
Strung upon a rope that’s blessed,
By vald of Christ I’ll rinse these ills, and then<br>
Guthmunder climbs cliff and aerie,
We may have peace, and end these wraithly tolls,<br>
Singing psalms and water casting,
So godly folk can gain what’s good to eat.”<br>
Hallowing, for all time lasting.
<br>
“Kria!” cry the terns; with fairy
Strung upon a rope that’s blessed,<br>
Arrows biting he is pressed.
Guthmunder climbs cliff and aerie,<br>
Singing psalms and water casting,<br>
A mickle hand is stretched to give
Hallowing, for all time lasting.<br>
A snip, to drop the priest confessing
“Kria!” cry the terns; with fairy<br>
To his doom. Some wilder-wight
Arrows biting he is pressed.<br>
Uncorks his store of words on height:
<br>
“Gvendur, Gvendur, stop your blessing!
A mickle hand is stretched to give<br>
Even the evil need a place to live!”
A snip, to drop the priest confessing<br>
 
To his doom. Some wilder-wight<br>
Guthmunder climbs down again to shore.
Uncorks his store of words on height:<br>
“Here is some uncanny Grettirsson
“Gvendur, Gvendur, stop your blessing!<br>
Or outlaw with his house upon the isle.
Even the evil need a place to live!”<br>
How can I cast the stone? I’ll bide awhile.”
<br>
He says, and sits him down a time alone.
Guthmunder climbs down again to shore.<br>
His hood it hides him like a skin before.
“Here is some uncanny Grettirsson<br>
Or outlaw with his house upon the isle.<br>
How can I cast the stone? I’ll bide awhile.”<br>
He says, and sits him down a time alone.<br>
His hood it hides him like a skin before.<br>
<br>
“Here at the worldes end, in this last bay,<br>
We’ll leave a little haven on this rock<br>
For those old souls who spurn eternal life<br>
(except as worthy names in saga strife)<br>
Until Atlantic billows drown this dock<br>
And, like the sea-birds, all are flown away.”<br>


“Here at the worldes end, in this last bay,
We’ll leave a little haven on this rock
For those old souls who spurn eternal life
(except as worthy names in saga strife)
Until Atlantic billows drown this dock
And, like the sea-birds, all are flown away.”}}


{{DEFAULTSORT:Little flock from Iceland, A (Peter Bird)}}
[[Category:Sheet music]]
[[Category:Sheet music]]
[[Category:Partsongs]]
[[Category:SATB]]
[[Category:Modern music]]
[[Category:Modern music]]

Revision as of 16:29, 12 October 2019

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  • (Posted 2006-03-10)  CPDL #11206:      (Sibelius 5)
Editor: Peter Bird (submitted 2006-03-10).   Score information: Letter, 53 pages, 917 kB   Copyright: Personal
Edition notes: Following the full score are: text pages containing the poems, with explanatory notes; flute part; violin part.

General Information

Title: A little flock from Iceland
Composer: Peter Bird

Number of voices: 4vv   Voicing: SATB

Genre: SecularPartsong

Language: English
Instruments: SATB chorus, brief SATB solos, flute, and violin.

First published: 2006

Description: Based on 4 new narrative poems about dramatic encounters from ~900 AD to ~1250 AD. The first two are fiction, and the second two are based on historical events. Romantic in style; Modern in harmony. 17:10.

External websites: http://peterbird.name/choral/

Original text and translations

English.png English text

I. Lón
Swans in Iceland: white on black.
Westward come wending, appearing in pairs;
Strong wing beats thunder in crystalline air;
Willfull to breed on the bourn of despair.
Iceland, Ireland: out, and back.

Men in longships, helmets bright,
Brought with them dozens of Ireland’s daughters.
Red-haired and white-robed, just as they caught her,
One of them walks all alone by the water,
Chanting her heart-song to the night.

“Eala naofa: Tromhad annall!
Mine are the people that open the granary,
Hallow the home-linn and safeguard the eyrie.
Hear when I cry to you; come to me swiftly!
An cuidich sibh mi do comhall?
“Seek a swan without a wife:
Kelwyn mac Boynton, of husbands the best.
When he will once lay his head on my breast,
It’s I will go swim with him, even to death,
Swan to be, beyond this life.”

Swans in Iceland watch their star;
Auger the season by scent of the beach-wrack.
When the wind’s northerly, ice in the grass cracks,
Wheeling they climb away, coasting the sea track.
Keening voices travel far.

II. Grímsvötn
Mountain of ice, beacon of white
Standing alone in the Arctic darkness,
Home to the swans flying, hope to the seafaring,
Niflheim gleams in the morning light.

Up on the glacier the ground is grumbling;
Krinkling cracks spring open quickly.
Blocks of blue ice topple thickly,
Grinding shards from bitter heights.

Swarthy mists in every cranney;
Murky reeks of steam are rising
From a gaping hollow waxing
‘Round a seething tarn uncanny.

Now a groaning geyser opens;
Red flame leaps to heat the oven;
Loki strains; a chain is broken;
Earth’s blood-rush is awoken.

Ashes flying; wind arising;
Thunder; spears of lightning crying:
Hell and Muspell are surprising
To the gothi skiing nearer.

“Othinn! Wise and just Allfather:
Bind the waters whirling blindly;
Tame the streaming torrent! Kindly
Spare your folk; you have no other.”

III. Vestur Grænland
Leif Eiriksson of Vinland now returns
To Eiriksfjord in Vestur Grænland
With wealth of furs and timber. In the stern
He watches fell and glacier running past
To seek the floi where father’s fires burn.
They are alone. The shore is still and vast.
There is a rock to larboard. Fleet and wary,
He calls to tighten sail against the mast,
Then takes the helm, turns to the wind, to tarry,
And still with vision sharp he skries the sky:
There is a wrecked ship upon the skerry.
And all might see, as drifting draws them nigh,
At least a dozen men; one woman’s form:
Norwegians all, if clothing does not lie.
Then up speaks Leifur, with a welcome warm:
“I guess ye’ll deign to sail with us today!
Drag up the wreck to keep it from the storm.
We’ll build another ship in some still bay;
We have the timber and the ship-smith.
But do not hold that ye should fly away;
I find thee kin and kith, and herewith
Bespeak my father’s will, inviting thee
To dwell and winter in our Brattahlith,
The homely house beyond the western sea.”

IV. Drangey
Bishop Guthmunder is rowing,
Muttering banns to bind his temper:
To feed the hungry he must harvest
Eggs and slippery svartifugi
From the cliffs and heaths of Drangey.
So. The men he sends to nest
And harry, taking ropes and timber,
Fall and die. The toll is growing.

He says: “This island is no seemly seat
of elves, but moor of mórar, tangi of trolls,
and geymir of the afturgangumenn.
By vald of Christ I’ll rinse these ills, and then
We may have peace, and end these wraithly tolls,
So godly folk can gain what’s good to eat.”

Strung upon a rope that’s blessed,
Guthmunder climbs cliff and aerie,
Singing psalms and water casting,
Hallowing, for all time lasting.
“Kria!” cry the terns; with fairy
Arrows biting he is pressed.
 
A mickle hand is stretched to give
A snip, to drop the priest confessing
To his doom. Some wilder-wight
Uncorks his store of words on height:
“Gvendur, Gvendur, stop your blessing!
Even the evil need a place to live!”

Guthmunder climbs down again to shore.
“Here is some uncanny Grettirsson
Or outlaw with his house upon the isle.
How can I cast the stone? I’ll bide awhile.”
He says, and sits him down a time alone.
His hood it hides him like a skin before.

“Here at the worldes end, in this last bay,
We’ll leave a little haven on this rock
For those old souls who spurn eternal life
(except as worthy names in saga strife)
Until Atlantic billows drown this dock
And, like the sea-birds, all are flown away.”