THE FAIRY’S SERENADE. (With an Accompaniment for the Pianoforte.) Arranged by W. Forde. Allegretto. G. BENNETT. Music Score for The Fairy’s Serenade The breeze hath left the Berwyn hills,
The dew was on the flower;
The bee had sought his honey comb,
The bird was in his bower;
When swifter than the mountain gale,
On Alban steed I flew
My bee I sought your honey home;
My bird I flew to you.
My bee I sought your honey home;
My bird I flew to you. My peerless steed is white with foam
And droops his arched neck;
The flood, the mountain, and the glen,
He crossed without a cheek.
Oh! listen while my harp I strike,
And rouse its sweetest tone;
And hear the language of a heart,
Which beats for you alone. The breeze hath left the Berwyn hills,
The dew is on the flower;
And I must hie to fairy land,
Ere chimes the midnight hour.
Arise bright star of beauty rise,
And when from you I roam,
Send forth the lustre of your eyes
To light me to my home.
BATTLE SONG. (Air—“The Swan’s Note.”) Arranged by W. Forde. Bold and expressive. Music score for Battle song March to the battle,
Drums loudly rattle,
Trumpets are braying,
Proud steeds are neighing,
And armour clashing,
While torrents dashing,
Loudly thunder down below. Bright helms are glancing,
Gay plumes are dancing,
Brave hearts are beating,
For the death meeting;
And Freedom rallies,
Sons of the valleys,
Forward then and face the foe!
Scion said Father round us come,
Gather bare the sword and strike the blow. From rock and heather,
Spring up together,
Fierce as the eagle,
Staunch as the beagle;
From the heart’s fountain,
Sons of the mountain,
Shout the war cry of Glyndoor!
England advances,
Proud of her lances,
Gallant and sightly,
Noble and knightly,
Wales frowns before her,
Death hovers o’er her—
Forward to the battle moor;—
Fate hath decreed ’em,
Victims to freedom;
And banners flying,
O’er dead and dying—
Wave for Cambria’s great Glyndoor!
JENNY DAVIES. (Air—“Llwyn-onn.”) Arranged by W. Forde. Allegretto. Music score for Jenny Davies I’m call’d Jenny Davies,
The fairest of Ladies,
And dwell on the bank-side where primroses grow;
My cheeks are like cherries,
My lips sweet strawberries,
My eyes are as black as the wild mountain sloe.
My heart’s warm and tender,
My waist small and slender,
I bound o’er the hills like the young mountain row;
I’m blithesome and witty,
Then sure ’tis a pity,
That I for a husband should sight forth heigh ho! With sighing and suing,
Young Arthur came wooing,
But he was too shy for a buxom young lass,
Then came handsome Harry,
Who press’d me to marry,
But he was too fond of his toilet and glass;
Then followed brave Rowland,
Who lives in the low-land,
But he was too rough for a delicate maid;
Sure, sure ’tis a pity,
A young girl so pretty,
Should sigh for a husband and pine in the shade. Young Carlie abused me,
And sadly misused me,
He vow’d to be mine and ran off with Miss Jones;
And last came a Quaker,
A grave undertaker,
Who promis’d he’d soon make me bone of his bones;
But he late and early
Is peevish and surly,
No longer I smile, and to dance I’m afraid;
I can’t bear to choose him,
And yet if I lose him,
Perhaps, (Oh, my stars!) I shall die an old maid.
MOUNTAIN MARY. (Air—“Cader Idris.”) Arranged by W. Forde. Allegretto. Music score for Mountain Mary The sun had gone down, and the monarch of mountains
Had robed his dark form in a mantle of cloud;
The primroses slept by the summer dried fountains,
And beauty’s own river seem’d dreaming aloud.
In the dale of the Hazel all nature seem’d weeping,
And mild was the moon-light that silver’d the grove;
But wakeful was morn flew my own mountain Mary,
To gladden my heart with the breathings of love. She looked down to blush, from the gaze of her lover,
Her snowy lids veiling her heaven-blue eyes;
More sweet was her breath than the dew-sprinkled clover,
When morning first breaks through the gates of the skies.
The land-breeze sprang up, and my bark tripp’d her anchor,
Ah me, how we started to feel that fair wind,
“Remember,” she cried, “the dear dale of the Hazel
And poor mountain Mary left weeping behind.” Far, far did I wander in climes hotly burning,
Till fortune repaid me with wealth in good store;
Then swift as a bird’s flight o’er high waves returning,
Our vessel was wafted to Abermaw’s shore.
With the speed of the roe-buck I flew to my Mary,
Joy’s tears from her eyes fell like midsummer rain;
And now in Dolgelley by wedlock united,
The world and its wealth shall ne’er part us again. See appendix. The Blue Well, one of the pools in the recesses of the great mountain, which discharges its waters into Llynn Gwynant. See appendix. DAFYDD AP SHENKIN. (For Three Voices.) Arranged by W. Forde. Music score for Dafydd ap Shenkin Oh! Shenkin was a noble fellow,
As ever rov’d in Conway vale;
He drank till he was mellow, drank till he was mellow,
He drank till he was mellow,
And fought till his foes turn’d pale. Well did he strike for merry freedom,
And England fear’d his great renown,
For laws—himself decreed ’em,
And gallantly held his own. Then drink boys to the outlaw’d ranger,
And let us seek old Dafydd’s cave,
Where oft he cheer’d the stranger,
And dug for his foes a grave. FAREWELL TO NORTH WALES. (Air—“Ar hyd y nos.”) Arranged by W. Forde. Andante espressivo. Music score for Farewell to North Wales Mountain, glen, wild rock, and heather,
Now farewell!
Lakes and fairy dells for ever,
All farewell.
Land of love and softest blisses,
Casket of my dearest wishes,
I would cover thee with kisses,
But farewell. Burning tears proclaim my anguish,
Fare—farewell.
When away from thee I languish,
Fare—farewell.
Friends and kindred when I’m sleeping,
To my beating heart come creeping
Morning brings me woe and weeping,
Fare—farewell. Land where beauty ever glances,
Fare—farewell.
And where joy for ever dances,
Fare—farewell.
Surly winds are round me blowing,
Wildly are my white locks flowing,
Drear and dark the day is growing,
Fare—farewell. |
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