King Witlaf's drinking horn (John Liptrot Hatton): Difference between revisions
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==Music files== | ==Music files== | ||
{{#Legend:}} | {{#Legend:}} | ||
*{{PostedDate|2019-10-07}} {{CPDLno|55532}} [[Media:King_Witlaf_Hatton.pdf|{{pdf}}]] [[Media:King_Witlaf_Hatton.mid|{{mid}}]] [[Media:King_Witlaf_Hatton.mxl|{{ | * {{PostedDate|2019-10-07}} {{CPDLno|55532}} [[Media:King_Witlaf_Hatton.pdf|{{pdf}}]] [[Media:King_Witlaf_Hatton.mid|{{mid}}]] [[Media:King_Witlaf_Hatton.mxl|{{XML}}]] [[Media:King_Witlaf_Hatton.capx|{{Capx}}]] | ||
{{Editor|James Gibb|2019-10-07}}{{ScoreInfo|A4|9|148}}{{Copy|CPDL}} | {{Editor|James Gibb|2019-10-07}}{{ScoreInfo|A4|9|148}}{{Copy|CPDL}} | ||
: | :{{EdNotes|}} | ||
==General Information== | ==General Information== | ||
{{Title|''King Witlaf's drinking horn''}} | |||
{{Composer|John Liptrot Hatton}} | {{Composer|John Liptrot Hatton}} | ||
{{Lyricist|Henry Wadsworth Longfellow}} | {{Lyricist|Henry Wadsworth Longfellow}} | ||
{{Voicing|4|ATTB}} | {{Voicing|4|ATTB}} | ||
{{Genre|Secular|Partsongs}} | {{Genre|Secular|Partsongs}} | ||
{{Language|English}} | {{Language|English}} | ||
{{Instruments|Keyboard}} | {{Instruments|Keyboard}} | ||
{{Pub|1|}} | {{Pub|1|1874|in ''[[Novello's Part-Song Book (2nd series), Vol. 7]]''|no=227}} | ||
{{Descr| }} | |||
{{#ExtWeb:}} | |||
==Original text and translations== | |||
{{Text|English| | |||
{{Vs|1}} Witlaf, a King of the Saxons, | |||
Ere yet his last he breathed, | |||
To the merry monks of Croyland | |||
His drinking horn bequeathed, | |||
That, whenever they sat at their revels, | |||
And drank from the golden bowl, | |||
They might remember the donor, | |||
And breathe a prayer for his soul. | |||
So sat they once at Christmas, | |||
And bade the goblet pass; | |||
In their beards the red wine glistened | |||
Like dewdrops in the grass. | |||
' | {{Vs|2}} They drank to the saints and martyrs, | ||
Of the dismal days of yore, | |||
And as soon as the horn was empty, | |||
They remembered one saint more, | |||
And the reader droned from the pulpit, | |||
Like the murmur of many bees, | |||
The legend of good Saint Guthlac, | |||
And Saint Basil's homilies, | |||
Till the great bells of the Convent | |||
From their prison in the tower. | |||
Guthlac and Bartholomaeus | |||
Proclaimed the midnight hour. | |||
{{Vs|3}} And the yule-log cracked in the chimney, | |||
And the Abbot bowed his head, | |||
And the flamelets flapped and flickered, | |||
But the Abbot was stark and dead; | |||
Yet still in his pallid fingers | |||
He clutched the golden bowl, | |||
In which, like a pearl dissolving, | |||
Had sunk and dissolved his soul. | |||
But not for this their revels | |||
The jovial monks forbore; | |||
For they cried, "Fill high the goblet! | |||
We must drink to one saint more." | |||
}} | |||
[[Category:Sheet music]] | [[Category:Sheet music]] | ||
[[Category:Romantic music]] | [[Category:Romantic music]] |
Latest revision as of 03:12, 1 October 2023
Music files
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Help |
- Editor: James Gibb (submitted 2019-10-07). Score information: A4, 9 pages, 148 kB Copyright: CPDL
- Edition notes:
General Information
Title: King Witlaf's drinking horn
Composer: John Liptrot Hatton
Lyricist: Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Number of voices: 4vv Voicing: ATTB
Genre: Secular, Partsong
Language: English
Instruments: Keyboard
First published: 1874 in Novello's Part-Song Book (2nd series), Vol. 7, no. 227
Description:
External websites:
Original text and translations
English text
1 Witlaf, a King of the Saxons,
Ere yet his last he breathed,
To the merry monks of Croyland
His drinking horn bequeathed,
That, whenever they sat at their revels,
And drank from the golden bowl,
They might remember the donor,
And breathe a prayer for his soul.
So sat they once at Christmas,
And bade the goblet pass;
In their beards the red wine glistened
Like dewdrops in the grass.
2 They drank to the saints and martyrs,
Of the dismal days of yore,
And as soon as the horn was empty,
They remembered one saint more,
And the reader droned from the pulpit,
Like the murmur of many bees,
The legend of good Saint Guthlac,
And Saint Basil's homilies,
Till the great bells of the Convent
From their prison in the tower.
Guthlac and Bartholomaeus
Proclaimed the midnight hour.
3 And the yule-log cracked in the chimney,
And the Abbot bowed his head,
And the flamelets flapped and flickered,
But the Abbot was stark and dead;
Yet still in his pallid fingers
He clutched the golden bowl,
In which, like a pearl dissolving,
Had sunk and dissolved his soul.
But not for this their revels
The jovial monks forbore;
For they cried, "Fill high the goblet!
We must drink to one saint more."