Ralph Vaughan Williams

(1872 - 1958)

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The Lieder of Vaughan Williams

Lieder – index:

1. Alister McAlpine's Lament
2. Along the Field (Song Cycle)

a) The Vagabond
b) Let Beauty awake
c) The Roadside Fire
d) Youth and Love
e) In Dreams
f) The infinite shining heavens
g) Whither Must I Wander?
h) Bright is the ring of words
i) I have trod the upward and the downward slope

1. "Alister McAlpine's Lament"
 
 
Text by Robert Allan; R. A. Smith's The Scottish Minstrel (published between 1820 and 1824)
 
Music by Ralph Vaughan Williams, 1912

The lowlands o' Scotland will ne'er be my hame,
Tho' fresh and fair is the gowany lea,
The lowlands o' Scotland will ne'er be my hame,
It will ne'er be like my ain countrie.
 
In the lowlands o' Scotland nae hills are seen
Rising wi' snaw-white taps sae hie,
And the heather is burnt, and the rose it is fa'en,
That bloomed sae sweet in my ain countrie.
 
The lowlands o' Scotland will ne'er be my hame,
And there's no a hame on earth for me,
The clans are a' broken and I am alane,
Thinking upon my ain countrie.

2. "Along the Field"
 
 
Texts by Alfred Edward Housman (1859-1936), from A Shropshire Lad
Music by Ralph Vaughan Williams
 
a) Along the field
b) We'll to the Woods no more
c) The half-moon westers low
d) In the morning
e) The sigh that heaves the grasses
f) Good-bye
g) Fancy's Knell
h) With rue my heart is laden

a) Along the field
 
Text also set by other composers
 
 
Along the field as we came by
A year ago, my love and I,
The aspen over stile and stone
Was talking to itself alone.
"Oh who are these that kiss and pass?
A country lover and his lass;
Two lovers looking to be wed;
And time shall put them both to bed,
But she shall lie with earth above,
And he beside another love."
 
And sure enough beneath the tree
There walks another love with me,
And overhead the aspen heaves
Its rainy-sounding silver leaves;
And I spell nothing in their stir,
But now perhaps they speak to her,
And plain for her to understand
They talk about a time at hand
When I shall sleep with clover clad,
And she beside another lad.
 
 
b) We'll to the Woods no more
 
Text also set by other composers
 
 
We'll to the Woods no more
The laurels all are cut,
The bowers are bare of bay
That once the Muses wore.
The year draws in the day
And soon will evening shut:
The laurels all are cut
We'll to the woods no more.
Oh, we'll no more, no more
To the leafy woods away,
To the high wild woods of laurel
And the bowers of bay no more.
 
 
c) The half-moon westers low
 
Text also set by other composers
 
 
The half-moon westers low, my love,
And the wind brings up the rain;
And wide apart we lie, my love,
And seas between the twain.
 
I know not if it rains, my love,
In the land where you do lie;
And oh, so sound you sleep, my love.
You know no more than I.
 
 
 
d) In the morning
 
Text also set by other composers
 
 
In the morning, in the morning,
In the happy field of hay,
Oh they looked at one another
By the light of day.
 
In the blue and silver morning
On the haycock as they lay,
Oh they looked at one another
And they looked away.
 

 
e) The sigh that heaves the grasses
 
The sigh that heaves the grasses
Whence thou wilt never rise
Is of the air that passes
And knows not if it sighs.
 
The diamond tears adorning
Thy low mound on the lea,
Those are the tears of mourning,
That weeps, but not for thee.
 
 
f) Good-bye
 
Text also set by other composers
 
 
Oh see how thick the goldcup flowers
Are lying in field and lane,
With dandelions to tell the hours
That never are told again.
Oh may I squire you round the meads
And pick you posies gay?
- 'Twill do no harm to take my arm.
"You may, young man, you may."
 
Ah, spring was sent for lass and lad,
'Tis now the blood runs gold,
And man and maid had best be glad
Before the world is old.
What flowers to-day may flower to-morrow,
But never as good as new.
- Suppose I wound my arm right round -
"'Tis true, young man, 'tis true."
 
Some lads there are, 'tis shame to say,
That only court to thieve,
And once they bear the bloom away
'Tis little enough they leave.
Then keep your heart for men like me
And safe from trustless chaps.
My love is true and all for you.
"Perhaps, young man, perhaps."
 
Oh, look in my eyes, then, can you doubt?
- Why, 'tis a mile from town.
How green the grass is all about!
We might as well sit down.
- Ah, life, what is it but a flower?
Why must true lovers sigh?
Be kind, have pity, my own, my pretty, -
"Good-bye, young man, good-bye."
 
  
g) Fancy's Knell
 
When lads come home from labour
At Abdon under Clee
A man would call his neighbour
And both would send for me.
And where the light in lances
Across the mead was laid,
There to the dances
I fetched my flute and played.
 
Ours were idle pleasures,
Yet oh, content we were,
The young to wind the measures,
The old to heed the air;
And I to lift with playing
From tree and tower and steep
The light delaying,
And flute the sun to sleep.
 
The youth toward his fancy
Would turn his brow of tan,
And Tom would pair with Nancy
And Dick step off with Fan;
The girl would lift her glances
To his, and both be mute:
Well went the dances
At evening to the flute.
 
Wenlock Edge was umbered,
And bright was Abdon Burf,
And warm between them slumbered
The smooth green miles of turf;
Until from grass and clover
The upshot beam would fade,
And England over
Advanced the lofty shade.
 
The lofty shade advances,
I fetch my flute and play:
Come, lads, and learn the dances
And praise the tune today.
To-morrow, more's the pity,
Away we both must hie,
To air the ditty,
And to earth I.
 

h) With rue my heart is laden
 
Text also set by other composers
 
 
With rue my heart is laden
For golden friends I had,
For many a rose-lipt maiden
And many a lightfood lad.
 
By brooks too broad for leaping
The lightfoot boys are laid;
The rose-lipt girls are sleeping
In fields where roses fade.

3. "An acre of land"
 
 
Text: English folksong, first sung to the composer by Frank Bailey in 1904
Music by Ralph Vaughan Williams, 1934

My father left me an acre of land,
Ivy, sing Ivery,
My father left me an acre of land,
And a bunch of green holly and Ivery.
 
I ploughed it with a ram's horn;
Ivy, sing Ivery,
I sowed it with a thimble,
And a bunch of green holly and Ivery.
 
I harrowed it with a bramble bush;
Ivy, sing Ivery,
I reaped it with a penknife,
And a bunch of green holly and Ivery.
 
I sent it home in a walnut shell;
Ivy, sing Ivery,
I threshed it with my needle and thread,
And a bunch of green holly and Ivery.
 
I winnowed it with my handkerchief;
Ivy, sing Ivery,
I sent it to mill with a team of great rats;
And a bunch of green holly and Ivery.
 
The carter brought a curly whip;
Ivy, sing Ivery,
The whip did pop and the wagon did stop;
And a bunch of green holly and Ivery.

4. "Bredon Hill"
 
 
Text by Alfred Edward Housman (1859-1936), from A Shropshire Lad
Music by Ralph Vaughan Williams, from On Wenlock Edge, no. 5
 
See also: 

George Butterworth (1885-1916), 1912
Graham Peel (1877-1937)
John Raynor (1909-1970)
Sir Arthur Somervell (1863-1937), from A Shropshire Lad, no. 4
Freda Swain (b. 1902)

In summertime on Bredon
The bells they sound so clear;
Round both the shires they ring them
In steeples far and near,
A happy noise to hear.
 
Here of a Sunday morning
My love and I would lie,
And see the coloured counties,
And hear the larks so high
About us in the sky.
 
The bells would ring to call her
In valleys miles away;
"Come all to church, good people;
Good people come and pray."
But here my love would stay.
 
And I would turn and answer
Among the springing thyme,
"Oh, peal upon our wedding,
And we will hear the chime,
And come to church in time."
 
But when the snows at Christmas
On Bredon top were strown,
My love rose up so early
And stole out unbeknown
And went to church alone.
 
They tolled the one bell only,
Groom there was none to see,
The mourners followed after,
And so to church went she,
And would not wait for me.
 
The bells they sound on Bredon,
And still the steeples hum,
"Come all to church, good people." -
O noisy bells, be dumb;
I hear you, I will come.

5. "Bushes and briars"
 
 
Text: English folksong
Music by Ralph Vaughan Williams

Through bushes and through briars I lately took my way;
All for to hear the small birds sing and the lambs to skip and play.
I overheard my own true love, her voice it was so clear;
"Long time I have been waiting for the coming of my dear.
Sometimes I am uneasy and troubled in my mind,
Sometimes I think I'll go to my love and tell to him my mind.
And if I should go to my love, my love he will say nay,
If I show to him my boldness, he'll ne'er love me again."

6. "Ca' the yowes"
 
 
Text by Robert Burns (1759-1796)
Music by Ralph Vaughan Williams, 1922

Ca' the yowes tae the knowes,
Ca' them whar the heather grows,
Ca' them whar the burnie rows,
My bonnie dearie.
 
Hark, the mavis' e'enin' sang,
Soundin' Cluden's woods amang;
Then a fauldin' let us gang,
My bonnie dearie.
Ca' the yowes tae the knowes...
 
Fair and lovely as thou art,
Thou hast stown my very heart;
I can die, but canna part,
My bonnie Dearie.
Ca' the yowes tae the knowes...
 
While waters wimple to the sea,
While day blinks in the lift sae hie
Till death shall blin' my e'e
Ye shall be my dearie.
Ca' the yowes tae the knowes...

7. "Come away, come away, death"
 
 
Text by William Shakespeare (1564-1616), from Twelfth Night, Act II, scene 4
Music by Ralph Vaughan Williams, "Come away, death" (1909)
 
See also: 

Gerald Finzi (1901-1956), "Come away, come away, death", op. 18, from Let Us Garlands Bring, no. 1 (1939)
Erich Korngold (1897-1957), "Come away, death", op. 29 no. 1, from Songs of the Clown
Roger Quilter (1877-1953), op. 6 no 1
Jean Sibelius (1865-1957), "Kom nu hit, död", op. 60 no. 1 (in Swedish)

Come away, come away, death,
And in sad cypress let me be laid;
Fly away, fly away, breath;
I am slain by a fair cruel maid.
My shroud of white, stuck all with yew,
O prepare it!
My part of death, no one so true
Did share it.
 
Not a flower, not a flower sweet,
On my black coffin let there be strown;
Not a friend, not a friend greet
My poor corpse, when my bones shall be thrown:
A thousand, [thousand] sighs to save,
Lay me, O where
[Sad] true lover never find my grave,
To weep there!

8. "Down among the dead men"
 
 
Text: English folksong
Music by Ralph Vaughan Williams, 1912

Here's a health to the King and a lasting peace,
To faction an end, to wealth increase;
Come, let us drink it while we have breath,
For there's no drinking after death;
And he who will this health deny,
Down among the dead men let him lie.
 
Let charming beauty's health go round,
In whom celestial joys are found,
And may confusion still pursue
The senseless woman-hating crew;
And they that woman's health deny,
Down among the dead men let him lie.
 
In smiling Bacchus' joys I'll roll,
Deny no pleasure to my soul;
Let Bacchus' health round briskly move,
For Bacchus is a friend to love;
And he that will this health deny,
Down among the dead men let him lie.
 
May love and wine their rites maintain,
And their united pleasures reign,
While Bacchus' treasure crowns the board,
We'll sing the joys that both afford,
And he that won't with us comply,
Down among the dead men let him lie.

9. "Full fathom five"
 
 
Text by William Shakespeare (1564-1616), from Act I, Scene 2 of The Tempest
Music by Ralph Vaughan Williams, 1951

Full fathom five thy father lies,
Of his bones are coral made;
Those are pearls that were his eyes:
Nothing of him that doth fade,
But doth suffer a sea-change
Into something rich and strange.
Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell:
Hark! now I hear them, - ding-dong bell.

10. "Oh see how thick the goldcup flowers"
 
 
Text by Alfred Edward Housman (1859-1936), from A Shropshire Lad
Music by Ralph Vaughan Williams, "Good-bye", from Along the Field, no 6
 
See also: 

Charles Wilfred Orr (1893-1976), "Oh see how thick the goldcup flowers", from Three Songs from A Shropshire Lad, no. 3

Oh see how thick the goldcup flowers
Are lying in field and lane,
With dandelions to tell the hours
That never are told again.
Oh may I squire you round the meads
And pick you posies gay?
- 'Twill do no harm to take my arm.
"You may, young man, you may."
 
Ah, spring was sent for lass and lad,
'Tis now the blood runs gold,
And man and maid had best be glad
Before the world is old.
What flowers to-day may flower to-morrow,
But never as good as new.
- Suppose I wound my arm right round -
"'Tis true, young man, 'tis true."
 
Some lads there are, 'tis shame to say,
That only court to thieve,
And once they bear the bloom away
'Tis little enough they leave.
Then keep your heart for men like me
And safe from trustless chaps.
My love is true and all for you.
"Perhaps, young man, perhaps."
 
Oh, look in my eyes, then, can you doubt?
- Why, 'tis a mile from town.
How green the grass is all about!
We might as well sit down.
- Ah, life, what is it but a flower?
Why must true lovers sigh?
Be kind, have pity, my own, my pretty, -
"Good-bye, young man, good-bye."

11. "Greensleeves"
 
 
Text: English folksong
Music by Ralph Vaughan Williams

Alas, my love, you do me wrong
To cast me off discourteously,
And I have lovèd you so long,
Delighting in your company.
 
Greensleeves was all my joy,
Greensleeves was my delight,
Greensleeves was my heart of gold,
And who but my Lady, Greensleeves?
 
I have been ready at your hand
To grant whatever you would crave,
I have both wagèd life and land,
Your love and goodwill for to have.
 
I bought thee petticoats of the best,
The cloth so fine as it might be.
I gave thee jewels for thy chest,
And all this cost I spent on thee.
 
Well I will pray to God on high
That thou my constancy may'st see,
For I am still thy lover true:
Come once again and love me.

12. "Heart's music"
 
 
Text by Thomas Campion (1567-1620)
Music by Ralph Vaughan Williams, 1954

Tune thy music to thy heart;
Sing thy joy with thanks, and so thy sorrow.
Though devotion needs not art,
Sometime of the poor the rich may borrow.
 
Strive not yet for curious ways;
Concord pleaseth more the less 'tis strained.
Zeal affects not outward praise,
Only strives to show a love unfeigned.
 
Love can wondrous things effect,
Sweetest sacrifice all wrath appeasing.
Love the Highest doth respect,
Love alone to Him is ever pleasing.

13. "Just as the tide was flowing"
 
 
Text: English folksong
Music by Ralph Vaughan Williams

One morning in the month of May,
Down by some rolling river,
A jolly sailor, I did stray,
When I beheld my lover,
She carelessly along did stray,
A-picking of the daisies gay;
And sweetly sang her roundelay,
Just as the tide was flowing.
 
O! her dress it was so white as milk,
And jewels did adorn her.
Her shoes were made of the crimson silk,
Just like some lady of honour.
Her cheeks were red, her eyes were brown,
Her hair in ringlets hanging down;
She'd a lovely brow, without a frown,
Just as the tide was flowing.
 
I made a bow and said, Fair maid,
How came you here so early?
My heart, by you it is betray'd
For I do love you dearly.
I am a sailor come from sea,
If you will accept of my company
To walk and view the fishes play,
Just as the tide was flowing.
 
No more we said, but on our way
We'd gang'd along together;
The small birds sang, and the lambs did play,
And pleasant was the weather.
When we were weary we did sit down
Beneath a tree with branches round;
For my true love at last I'd found,
Just as the tide was flowing.

14. "Loch Lomond"
 
 
Text: Scottish Folksong
Music by Ralph Vaughan Williams, 1921

By you bonny banks and you bonny braes,
Where the sun shines bright on Loch Lomond,
Where me and my true love were ever wont to gae,
On the bonny, bonny banks of Loch Lomond.
 
O you'll take the high road and I'll take the low road
And I'll be in Scotland afore ye,
But me and my true love will never meet again
On the bonny, bonny banks of Loch Lomond.
 
'Twas there that we parted in yon shady glen,
On the steep, steep side of Loch Lomond,
Where deep in purple hue the Highland hills we view,
And the moon coming out in the gloaming.
 
The wee birdies sing and the wild flow'rs spring,
And in sunshine the waters are sleeping,
But the broken heart it kens nae second spring again
Tho' the woeful may cease from their greeting.

15. "Mannin Veen"
 
 
Text: Manx folksong
Music by Ralph Vaughan Williams

Stranger, if thou seekest ease,
Safety, quiet and sweet peace,
If of rest thou wouldst be sure,
Lovest sober joys and pure,
Here thou shalt be strong and keen,
Come, then, come to Mannin Veen,
To the hills and valleys green,
Come, then, come,
Come, oh! come,
Come, oh! come to Mannin Veen.
 
If in conduct meek thou art,
And for greatness hast no heart,
If the devil's cruel ways
Thou withstandest all thy days;
If thou good and wise hast been,
Come, then, come to Mannin Veen,
To the hills and valleys green,
Come, then, come,
Come, oh! come,
Come, oh! come to Mannin Veen.
 
Trav'ler seek no foreign strand,
Thou wilt find no lovelier land;
Take the word of one who knows
How our life here smoothly flows,
Stranger leave not this fair scene,
Make thy home in Mannin Veen,
With its hills and valleys green,
Come, then, come,
Come, oh! come,
Come, oh! come to Mannin Veen.

16. "O mistress mine, where are you roaming?"
 
 
Text by William Shakespeare (1564-1616). From Twelfth Night, Act II, scene 3
Music by Ralph Vaughan Williams, "O mistress mine" (1891), published 1913
 
See also:

Amy Marcy Cheney Beach (1867-1944), "O mistress mine", op. 37 no. 1
Gerald Finzi (1901-1956), "O mistress mine", op. 18, from Let Us Garlands Bring, no. 4 (1942)
Roger Quilter (1877-1953), "O mistress mine", op. 6 no. 2
Peter Warlock (Philip Arnold Heseltine) (1894-1930), "Sweet-and-Twenty" (1924), published 1924

O mistress mine, where are you roaming?
O stay and hear, your true love's coming
That can sing both high and low.
Trip no farther, pretty sweeting;
Journeys end in lovers meeting,
Ev'ry wise man's son doth know.
 
What is love? 'tis not hereafter;
Present mirth hath present laughter;
What's to come is still unsure:
In delay there lies no plenty;
Then come kiss me, sweet and twenty;
Youth's a stuff will not endure.

17. "Oh, when I was in love with you"
 
 
Text by Alfred Edward Housman (1859-1936), from A Shropshire Lad
Music by Ralph Vaughan Williams, from On Wenlock Edge, no. 4
 
See also: 

Charles Wilfred Orr (1893-1976)

Oh, when I was in love with you,
Then I was clean and brave,
And miles around the wonder grew
How well did I behave.
 
And now the fancy passes by,
And nothing will remain,
And miles around they'll say that I
Am quite myself again.

 
18. "On Wenlock Edge"
 
 
Texts by Alfred Edward Housman (1859-1936), from A Shropshire Lad
Music by Ralph Vaughan Williams
 
a) On Wenlock Edge the wood's in trouble
b) From far, from eve and morning
c) Is my team ploughing?
d) Oh, when I was in love with you
e) Bredon Hill
f) Clun

a) On Wenlock Edge the wood's in trouble

On Wenlock Edge the wood's in trouble;
His forest fleece the Wrekin heaves;
The gale, it plies the saplings double,
And thick on Severn snow the leaves.
 
'Twould blow like this through holt and hanger
When Uricon the city stood:
'Tis the old wind in the old anger,
But then it threshed another wood.
 
Then, 'twas before my time, the Roman
At yonder heaving hill would stare:
The blood that warms an English yeoman,
The thoughts that hurt him, they were there.
 
There, like the wind through woods in riot,
Through him the gale of life blew high;
The tree of man was never quiet:
Then 'twas the Roman, now 'tis I.
 
The gale, it plies the saplings double,
It blows so hard, 'twill soon be gone:
To-day the Roman and his trouble
Are ashes under Uricon.
 
 
b) From far, from eve and morning
 
From far, from eve and morning
And yon twelve-winded sky,
The stuff of life to knit me
Blew hither: here am I.
 
Now - for a breath I tarry
Nor yet disperse apart -
Take my hand quick and tell me,
What have you in your heart.
 
Speak now, and I will answer;
How shall I help you, say;
Ere to the wind's twelve quarters
I take my endless way.

 
c) Is my team ploughing?
 
Text also set by other composers
 
 
"Is my team ploughing,
That I was used to drive
And hear the harness jingle
When I was man alive?"
 
Ay, the horses trample,
The harness jingles now;
No change though you lie under
The land you used to plough.
 
["Is football playing
Along the river-shore,
With lads to chase the leather,
Now I stand up no more?"
 
Ay, the ball is flying,
The lads play heart and soul;
The goal stands up, the keeper
Stands up to keep the goal.]
 
"Is my girl happy,
That I thought hard to leave,
And has she tired of weeping
As she lies down at eve?"
 
Ay, she lies down lightly,
She lies not down to weep:
Your girl is well contented.
Be still, my lad, and sleep.
 
"Is my friend hearty,
Now I am thin and pine,
And has he found to sleep in
A better bed than mine?"
 
Yes, lad, I lie easy,
I lie as lads would choose;
I cheer a dead man's sweetheart,
Never ask me whose.
 
 
d) Oh, when I was in love with you
 
Text also set by other composers
 
 
Oh, when I was in love with you,
Then I was clean and brave,
And miles around the wonder grew
How well did I behave.
 
And now the fancy passes by,
And nothing will remain,
And miles around they'll say that I
Am quite myself again.

 
e) Bredon Hill
 
Text also set by other composers
 
 
In summertime on Bredon
The bells they sound so clear;
Round both the shires they ring them
In steeples far and near,
A happy noise to hear.
 
Here of a Sunday morning
My love and I would lie,
And see the coloured counties,
And hear the larks so high
About us in the sky.
 
The bells would ring to call her
In valleys miles away;
"Come all to church, good people;
Good people come and pray."
But here my love would stay.
 
And I would turn and answer
Among the springing thyme,
"Oh, peal upon our wedding,
And we will hear the chime,
And come to church in time."
 
But when the snows at Christmas
On Bredon top were strown,
My love rose up so early
And stole out unbeknown
And went to church alone.
 
They tolled the one bell only,
Groom there was none to see,
The mourners followed after,
And so to church went she,
And would not wait for me.
 
The bells they sound on Bredon,
And still the steeples hum,
"Come all to church, good people."
O noisy bells, be dumb;
I hear you, I will come.
 
 
 
f) Clun
 
Clunton and Clunbury,
Clungunford and Clun,
Are the quietest places
Under the sun.
 
In valleys of springs of rivers,
By Ony and Teme and Clun,
The country for easy livers,
The quietest under the sun,
 
We still had sorrows to lighten,
One could not be always glad,
And lads knew trouble at Knighton,
When I was a Knighton lad.
 
By bridges that Thames runs under,
In London, the town built ill,
'Tis sure small matter for wonder
If sorrow is with one still.
 
And if as a lad grows older
The troubles he bears are more,
He carries his griefs on a shoulder
That handselled them long before.
 
Where shall one halt to deliver
This luggage I'd lief set down?
Not Thames, not Teme is the river,
Nor London nor Knighton the town:
 
'Tis a long way further than Knighton,
A quieter place than Clun,
Where doomsday may thunder and lighten
And little 'twill matter to one.

19. "Rest"
 
 
Text by Christina Rossetti (1830-1894)
Music by Ralph Vaughan Williams, 1902

O Earth lie heavily upon her eyes;
Seal her sweet eyes weary of watching, Earth.
Lie close around her,
Leave no room for mirth with its harsh laughter,
Nor for sound of sighs.
She hath no questions, she hath no replies,
Hushed in and curtained with a blessed dearth
Of all that irked her from her hour of birth;
With stillness that is almost Paradise.
Darkness more clear than noon-day holdeth her,
Silence more musical than any song;
Even her very heart hath ceased to stir;
Until the morning of Eternity her rest shall not begin nor end,
But be, and when she wakes she will not think it long.

20. "Serenade to music"
 
 
Text by William Shakespeare (1564-1616), from The Merchant of Venice, Act V Scene I
Music by Ralph Vaughan Williams

Lorenzo:
How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank!
Here will we sit, and let the sounds of music
Creep in our ears: soft stillness and the night
Become the touches of sweet harmony.
Look, how the floor of heaven
Is thick inlaid with patines of bright gold:
There's not the smallest orb that thou behold'st
But in his motion like an angel sings
Still quiring to the young-eyed cherubins;
Such harmony is in immortal souls;
But, whilst this muddy vesture of decay
Doth grossly close it in, we cannot hear it.
Come, ho! and wake Diana with a hymn:
With sweetest touches pierce your mistress' ear,
And draw her home with music.
 
Jessica:
I am never merry when I hear sweet music.
 
Lorenzo:
The reason is, your spirits are attentive:
The man that hath no music in himself,
Nor is not mov'd with concord of sweet sounds,
Is fit for treasons, stratagems and spoils;
The motions of his spirit are dull as night,
And his affections dark as Erebus:
Let no such man be trusted... Music! hark!
 
Nerissa:
It is your music of the house.
 
Portia:
Methinks it sounds much sweeter than by day.
 
Nerissa:
Silence bestows that virtue on it.
 
Portia:
How many things by season season'd are.
To their right praise and true perfection!
Peace, ho! the moon sleeps with Endymion,
And would not be awak'd.
 
(Soft stillness and the night
Become the touches of sweet harmony.)

21. "Sweet day! so cool, so calm, so bright"
 
 
Text by George Herbert (1593-1633)
Music by Ralph Vaughan Williams, "Sweet day" (1896)
 
See also:

Barney Childs, "Virtue"

Sweet day! so cool, so calm, so bright,
The bridal of the earth and sky,
The dew shall weep thy fall tonight;
For thou must die.
 
[Sweet rose, whose hue angry and brave
Bids the rash gazer wipe his eye:
Thy root is ever, ever in its grave,
And thou must die.]
 
Sweet spring! full of sweet days and roses,
A box where sweets compacted lie,
My music shows ye have your closes,
And all must die.
 
Only a sweet and virtuous soul,
Like seasoned timber, never gives;
But though the whole world turn to coal,
Then chiefly lives.

22. "The cloud-capp'd towers"
 
 
Text by William Shakespeare (1564-1616), from Act IV, Scene 1 of The Tempest
Music by Ralph Vaughan Williams, 1951

The cloud-capp'd towers, the gorgeous palaces,
The solemn temples, the great globe itself,
Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve,
And, like this insubstantial pageant faded,
Leave not a rack behind: We are such stuff
As dreams are made on, and our little life
Is rounded with a sleep.

23. "The dark-eyed sailor"
 
 
Text: English folksong, also known as "Fair Phoebe"
Music by Ralph Vaughan Williams

It was a comely young lady fair,
Was walking out for to take the air;
She met a sailor all on her way,
So I paid attention to what they did say.
 
Said William, "Lady, why walk alone?
The night is coming and the day near gone."
She said, while tears from her eyes did fall,
"It's a dark-eyed sailor that's proving my downfall.
 
"It's two long years since he left the land;
He took a gold ring from off my hand,
We broke the token, here's part with me,
And the other lies rolling at the bottom of the sea."
 
Then half the ring did young William show,
She was distracted midst joy and woe.
"O welcome, William, I've lands and gold
For my dark-eyed sailor so manly, true and bold."
 
Then in a village down by the sea,
They joined in wedlock and well agree.
So maids be true while your love's away,
For a cloudy morning brings forth a shining day.

24. "The lover's ghost"
 
 
Text: English folksong, also known as "The Suffolk Miracle", "The Grey Cock", and "The Drowsy Sleeper"
 
Music by Ralph Vaughan Williams

Well met, well met, my own true love;
Long time I have been absent from thee;
I am lately come from the salt sea,
And 'tis all for the sake, my love, of thee.
 
I have three ships all on the salt sea,
And one of them has brought me to land,
I've four and twenty mariners on board,
You shall have music at your command.
 
The ship wherein my love shall sail
Is glorious for to behold,
The sails shall be of shining silk,
The mast shall be of the fine beaten gold.
 
I might have had a King's daughter,
And fain she would have married me,
But I forsook her crown of gold,
And 'tis all for the sake, my love, of thee.

25. "The seeds of love"
 
 
Text: English folksong, collected by Cecil Sharp (first sung to him by John England in 1903)
Music by Ralph Vaughan Williams

I sowed the seeds of love,
And I sowed them in the spring:
I gathered them up in the morning so soon
While the small birds so sweetly sing.
 
My garden was planted well
With flowers everywhere.
But I had not the liberty to choose for myself
Of the flowers that I love so dear.
 
The gardener was standing by,
And I asked him to choose for me.
He chose for me the violet, the lily and the pink,
But those I refused - all three.
 
In June there's a red rosebud,
And that is the flower for me.
I often times have plucked that red rosebud
Till I gained the willow tree.

26. "The spring time of the year"
 
 
Text: English folksong
Music by Ralph Vaughan Williams

As I walked out one morning,
In the springtime of the year,
I overheard a sailor boy,
Likewise a lady fair.
They sang a song together,
Made the valleys for to ring,
While the birds on spray
And the meadows gay
Proclaimed the lovely spring.

27. "The turtle dove"
 
 
Text: English folksong; also known as "True Lover's Farewell"
Music by Ralph Vaughan Williams, 1924

Fare you well, my dear, I must be gone,
And leave you for a while;
If I roam away I'll come back again,
Though I roam ten thousand miles, my dear,
Though I roam ten thousand miles.
 
So fair thou art, my bonny lass,
So deep in love am I;
But I never will prove false to the bonny lass I love,
Till the stars fall from the sky, my dear,
Till the stars fall from the sky.
 
The sea will never run dry, my dear,
Nor the rocks melt with the sun,
But I never will prove false to the bonny lass I love,
Till all these things be done, my dear,
Till all these things be done.
 
O yonder doth sit that little turtle dove,
He doth sit on yonder high tree,
A-making a moan for the loss of his love,
As I will do for thee, my dear,
As I will do for thee.

28. "The willow song"
 
 
Text by William Shakespeare (1564-1616), from The Tragedy of Othello, the Moor of Venice, Act IV scene 3
 
Music by Ralph Vaughan Williams

The poor soul sat sighing by a sycamore tree,
Sing all a green willow.
Her hand on her bosom, her head on her knee,
Sing willow, willow.
The fresh streams ran by her and murmur'd her moans,
Sing willow, willow.
Her salt tears fell from her, and softened the stones,
Sing willow, willow,
Sing all a green willow must be my garland.

29. "The winter is gone"
 
 
Text: English folksong
Music by Ralph Vaughan Williams, 1912

The winter is gone and the summer is come,
The meadows are pleasant and gay,
The lark in the morning so sweetly she sings,
And sweet smells the blossom of May.
 
Young Johnny the ploughboy comes whistling along
With his horses, to follow the plough;
The blackbirds and thrushes sing in the green bush,
And the dairy maid milking her cow.
 
He took the fair maid by her lily white hand,
On the green bushy bank they sat down;
Then he placèd a kiss on her sweet ruby lips,
A tree spread its branches around.
 
It was early next morning he made her his bride,
Their vows in the church for to pay.
So bells they did ring, and the bride she did sing,
As he crowned her the Queen of the May.

30. "Wassail song"
 
 
Text: English folksong
Music by Ralph Vaughan Williams

Wassail, Wassail, all over the town,
Our bread it is white and ale it is brown;
Our bowl it is made of the green maple tree;
In the Wassail bowl we'll drink unto thee.
 
Here's a health to the ox and to his right eye,
Pray God send our master a good Christmas pie,
A good Christmas pie as e'er I did see.
In the Wassail bowl we'll drink unto thee.
 
Here's a health to the ox and to his right horn,
Pray God send our master a good crop of corn,
A good crop of corn as e'er I did see,
In the Wassail bowl we'll drink unto thee.
 
Here's a health to the ox and to his long tail,
Pray God send our master a good cask of ale,
A good cask of ale as e'er I did see,
In the Wassail bowl we'll drink unto thee.
 
Come, butler, come fill us a bowl of the best;
Then I pray that your soul in heaven may rest;
But if you do bring us a bowl of the small,
May the Devil take butler, bowl and all!
 
Then here's to the maid in the lily white smock,
Who tripp'd to the door and slipp'd back the lock;
Who tripp'd to the door and pull'd back the pin,
For to let these jolly Wassailers walk in.

31. "Songs of Travel"
 
 
Texts by Robert Louis Stevenson (1850-1894), from Songs of Travel
Music by Ralph Vaughan Williams, 1901/1904

a) The Vagabond
b) Let Beauty awake
c) The Roadside Fire
d) Youth and Love
e) In Dreams
f) The infinite shining heavens
g) Whither Must I Wander?
h) Bright is the ring of words
i) I have trod the upward and the downward slope

a) The Vagabond
 
Give to me the life I love,
Let the lave go by me,
Give the jolly heaven above,
And the byway nigh me.
Bed in the bush with stars to see,
Bread I dip in the river -
There's the life for a man like me,
There's the life for ever.
 
Let the blow fall soon or late,
Let what will be o'er me;
Give the face of earth around,
And the road before me.
Wealth I seek not, hope nor love,
Nor a friend to know me;
All I seek, the heaven above,
And the road below me.
 
Or let autumn fall on me
Where afield I linger,
Silencing the bird on tree,
Biting the blue finger.
White as meal the frosty field -
Warm the fireside haven -
Not to autumn will I yield,
Not to winter even!
 
Let the blow fall soon or late,
Let what will be o'er me;
Give the face of earth around,
And the road before me.
Wealth I ask not, hope nor love,
Nor a friend to know me;
All I seek, the heaven above,
And the road below me.
 
  
b) Let Beauty awake
 
Let Beauty awake in the morn from beautiful dreams,
Beauty awake from rest!
Let Beauty awake
For Beauty's sake
In the hour when the birds awake in the brake
And the stars are bright in the west!
 
Let Beauty awake in the eve from the slumber of day,
Awake in the crimson eve!
In the day's dusk end
When the shades ascend,
Let her wake to the kiss of a tender friend,
To render again and receive!

 
c) The Roadside Fire
 
Text also set by other composers
 
 
I will make you brooches and toys for your delight
Of bird-song at morning and star-shine at night,
I will make a palace fit for you and me
Of green days in forests, and blue days at sea.
 
I will make my kitchen, and you shall keep your room,
Where white flows the river and bright blows the broom;
And you shall wash your linen and keep your body white
In rainfall at morning and dewfall at night.
 
And this shall be for music when no one else is near,
The fine song for singing, the rare song to hear!
That only I remember, that only you admire,
Of the broad road that stretches and the roadside fire.
 
  
d) Youth and Love
 
To the heart of youth the world is a highwayside.
Passing for ever, he fares; and on either hand,
Deep in the gardens golden pavilions hide,
Nestle in orchard bloom, and far on the level land
Call him with lighted lamp in the eventide.
 
Thick as stars at night when the moon is down,
Pleasures assail him. He to his nobler fate
Fares; and but waves a hand as he passes on,
Cries but a wayside word to her at the garden gate,
Sings but a boyish stave and his face is gone.

e) In Dreams
 
In dreams unhappy, I behold you stand
As heretofore:
The unremember'd tokens in your hand
Avail no more.
 
No more the morning glow, no more the grace,
Enshrines, endears.
Cold beats the light of time upon your face
And shows your tears.
 
He came and went. Perchance you wept awhile
And then forgot.
Ah me! but he that left you with a smile
Forgets you not.
 
 
f) The infinite shining heavens
 
The infinite shining heavens
Rose, and I saw in the night
Uncountable angel stars
Showering sorrow and light.
 
I saw them distant as heaven,
Dumb and shining and dead,
And the idle stars of the night
Were dearer to me than bread.
 
Night after night in my sorrow
The stars looked over the sea,
Till lo! I looked in the dusk
And a star had come down to me.

 
g) Whither Must I Wander?
 
 
Home no more home to me, whither must I wander?
Hunger my driver, I go where I must.
Cold blows the winter wind over hill and heather:
Thick drives the rain and my roof is in the dust.
Loved of wise men was the shade of my roof-tree,
The true word of welcome was spoken in the door -
Dear days of old with the faces in the firelight,
Kind folks of old, you come again no more.
 
Home was home then, my dear, full of kindly faces,
Home was home then, my dear, happy for the child.
Fire and the windows bright glittered on the moorland;
Song, tuneful song, built a palace in the wild.
Now when day dawns on the brow of the moorland,
Lone stands the house, and the chimney-stone is cold.
Lone let it stand, now the friends are all departed,
The kind hearts, the true hearts, that loved the place of old.
 
Spring shall come, come again, calling up the moorfowl,
Spring shall bring the sun and the rain, bring the bees and flowers;
Red shall the heather bloom over hill and valley,
Soft flow the stream through the even-flowing hours.
Fair the day shine as it shone on my childhood -
Fair shine the day on the house with open door;
Birds come and cry there and twitter in the chimney -
But I go for ever and come again no more.

 
h) Bright is the ring of words
 
Text also set by other composers
 
 
Bright is the ring of words
When the right man rings them,
Fair the fall of songs
When the singer sings them,
Still [they are] carolled and said -
On wings they are carried -
After the singer is dead
And the maker buried.
 
Low as the singer lies
In the field of heather,
Songs of his fashion bring
The swains together.
And when the west is red
With the sunset embers,
The lover lingers and sings
And the maid remembers.
 

 
i) I have trod the upward and the downward slope
 
 
I have trod the upward and the downward slope;
I have endured and done in days before;
I have longed for all, and bid farewell to hope;
And I have lived and loved, and closed the door.