WORDS
If you'd like to sing along to the songs on the CD with your child the words are reproduced here:
Art Thou Troubled?
(Dove Sei) From Rodelinda
Music by G.F Handel
Words by W.G Rothery
Art thou troubled?
Music will calm thee,
Art thou weary?
Rest shall be thine, rest shall be thine.
Music, source of all gladness,
Heals thy sadness
At her shrine,
Music, music ever divine
Music, music calleth
with voice divine
When the welcome spring is smiling,
All the earth with flow'rs beguiling,
After winter's dreary reign,
Sweetest music doth attend her,
Heav'nly harmonies doth lend her,
Chanting praises in her train,
chanting praises in her train.
Nulla in mundo pax sincera
Music by Antonio Vivaldi
Nulla in mundo pax sincera
sine fele; pura et vera,
dulcis Jesu, est in te.
Inter poenas et tormenta
vivit anima contenta
casti amoris sola spe.
Silent Worship
Music by G.F Handel
Did you not hear my lady
Go down the garden singing?
Blackbird and thrush were silent
To hear the alleys ringing.
O saw you not my lady
Out in the garden there?
Shaming the rose and lily,
for she is twice as fair.
Though I am nothing to her,
Though she must rarely look at me,
And though I could never woo her,
I love her till I die.
.
When Laura smiles
Music by Philip Rosseter
Words by Thomas Campion
1. When Laura smiles her sight revives both night and day,
The earth and heav'n views with delight her wanton play
And her speech with ever flowing music doth repair,
The cruel wounds of sorrow and untamed despair.
2. See where the sprites that remain in fleeting air,
Affect for past time to untwine her tressed hair,
And the birds think sweet Aurora Morning's queen doth shine,
From her bright sphere when Laura shows her looks divine.
3.Diana's eyes are not adorn'd with greater pow'r
Than Laura's when she lists a while for sport to lour
But when she her eyes encloseth, blindness doth appear,
The chiefest grace of beauty sweetly seated there.
4. Love hath no fire but what he steals from from her bright eyes,
Time hath no pow'r but that which in her pleasure lies,
For she with her divine beauties all the world subdues,
And fills with heav'nly spirits my humble Muse.
Ah! how pleasant 'tis to love
Music by Henry Purcell
Words by John Dryden
1. Ah! how pleasant 'tis to love,
Ev'ry moment does improve:
Joys surprising now I meet,
Nothing's like love so charming sweet.
2. Some do make a god of pleasure,
Others worship hoarded treasure;
While the lover's still addressing
To his nymph, for every blessing.
Love quickly is pall'd
Music by Henry Purcell
Words by Peter Anthony Motteux
Love quickly is pall'd, tho' with labour 'tis gain'd;
Wine never does cloy, no, never does cloy, tho' with ease, with ease 'tis obtain'd.
We sing, we sing while you sigh,
we laugh, we laugh, we laugh while you weep;
Love robs you of rest, love robs you of rest,
Wine lulls us, lulls us,
lulls us, lulls us asleep.
I attempt from love's sickness to fly
from 'The Indian Queen'
Music by Henry Purcell
Words by John Dryden
I attempt from love's sickness to fly in vain,
Since I am myself my own fever,
since I am myself my own fever and pain.
No more now, no more now, fond heart, with pride should we swell
Thou canst not raise forces, thou canst not raise forces enough to rebel.
I attempt from love's sickness to fly in vain,
Since I am myself my own fever, since I am myself my own fever and pain,
For love has more pow'r and less mercy than fate,
To make us seek ruin, to make us seek ruin, and love those that hate.
I attempt from love's sickness to fly in vain,
Since I am myself my own fever, since I am myself my own fever and pain.
O care parolette
from Orlando
Music by G.F Handel
O care parolette, o dolci sguardi!
Sebben siete bugiardi, tanto vi crederò
Ma poi, che far potrò,
allor che troppo tardi io vi conoscerò?
When the bee sucks
Music by Thomas Arne
Words by William Shakespeare
Where the bee sucks there lurk I,
In a cow-slip's bed I lie,
There I couch when owls do cry,
when owls do cry,
when owls do cry.
On the bat's back do I fly after sunset merrily, merrily, after sunset merrily.
Merrily, merrily shall I live now
under the blossom that hangs on the bough,
merrily, merrily shall I live now,
under the blossom that hangs on the bough
under the blossom that hangs on the bough.
Linden Lea
Music by Ralph Vaughan Williams
Words by William Barnes
Within the woodlands, flow'ry gladed,
By the oak trees' mossy moot;
The shining grass blades, timber shaded,
Now do quiver under foot;
And birds do whistle over-head,
And water's bubbling in its bed;
And there for me,
The apple tree Do lean down low in Linden Lea.
When leaves, that lately were a-springing,
Now do feed within the copse,
And painted birds do hush their singing
Up upon the timber tops;
And brown-leaved fruits a-turning red,
In cloudless sunshine over-head,
With fruit for me,
The apple-tree Do lean down low in Linden Lea.
Let other folk make money faster; In the air of dark-room'd towns;
I don't dread a peevish master,
Though no man may heed my frowns.
I be free to go abroad,
Or take again my homeward road,
To where , for me,
The apple tree Do lean down low in Linden Lea.
The Ash Grove
Welsh Traditional
Down yonder green valley where streamlets meander,
When twilight is fading, I pensively rove;
Or at the bright noon-tide in solitude wander
Amid the dark shades of the lonely Ash Grove
'Twas there, while the blackbird was cheerfully singing,
I first met that dear one,
the joy of my heart!
Around us for gladness the bluebells were ringing;
Ah! then little thought I how soon we should part.
Still glows the bright sunshine
o'er valley and mountain,
Still warbles the blackbird its notes from the tree; Still trembles the moonbeam on streamlet and fountain,
But what are the beauties of nature to me?
With sorrow, deep sorrow my bosom is laden,
All day, I go mourning in search of my love;
Ye echoes! oh tell me, where is the sweet maiden?
She sleeps 'neath the green turf down by the Ash Grove.
The Sunflower
Irish traditional
Words by Thomas Moore
Believe me, if all those endearing young charms,
Which I gaze on so fondly today,
Were to change by tomorrow and fleet in my arms,
Like fairy gifts fading away.
Thou wouldst still be adored as this moment thou art,
Let thy loveliness fade as it will;
And around the dear ruin each wish of my heart
Would entwine itself verdantly still
It is not while beauty and youth are thine own,
And thy cheeks unprofaned by a tear,
That the fervour and faith of a soul can be known,
To which time will but make thee more dear!
Oh! the heart, that has truly loved, never forgets, But as truly loves on to the close;
As the sunflower turns to her god, when he sets,
The same look which she turned when he rose!
The Lark in the Clear Air
Irish Traditional
Words by Samuel Ferguson
Dear thoughts are in my mind,
and my should soars enchanted
As I hear the sweet lark sing
in the clear air of the day
For a tender beaming smile
to my hope has been granted,
And tomorrow she shall hear
all my fond heart would say.
I shall tell her all my love,
all my soul's adoration
And I think she will hear
and will not say me nay.
It is this that gives my soul
all its joyous elation,
As I hear the sweet lark sing
in the clear air of the day.
Dalmatian Cradle Song
Traditional arr. Hugh S Roberton
Words by P.A Grand
Hush, my babe, my little one,
Thy father sails the deep;
But warm thy bed is pretty one;
Lie still my dear and sleep.
1. Cold the wind is blowing,
Angry is the sea;
Guard, ye saints his going,
And bring him back to me.
Hush, my babe, my little one,
Thy father daily the deep;
But warm thy bed is, pretty now;
Lie still my dear and sleep
2. When the morn shall break again
Over hill and lea;
Then my love shall wake again,
And dance on daddy's knee.
Hush my babe, my little one, Thy father sails the deep;
But warm thy bed is pretty one;
Lie still my dear and sleep.
A Cradle Song
Music by Ralph Vaughan Williams
Words by Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Sleep sweet babe! my cares beguiling:
Mother sits beside me smiling,
Sleep my darling tenderly.
If thou sleep not, mother mourneth,
Singing as her wheel she turneth.
Come soft slumber, balmily, balmily!
Come soft slumber balmily!
Panis Angelicus
Music by Cesar Franck
Panis Angelicus fit panis hominum
Dat panis coelicus figuris terminum
O res mirabilis! Manducat Dominum
Pauper, pauper, servus et humilis
Pauper, pauper, servus et humilis
Cradle Song
Music by Franz Schubert
Words by Mathhais Claudius & M.X Hayes
Slumber, slumber,
dearest, sweetest treasure,
Rocked so gently by thy mother's hand;
Soft repose and tranquil pleasure
Soothe thee with the lulling cradle band.
Slumber, slumber, in sweet dreams reposing,
While protects thee thy fond mother's arm
All her riches, here enclosing,
Hold she in her clasp so true and warm.
Slumber, slumber on thy downy pillow,
Love's hymn round thee music sweet shall make;
And a lily and a rosebud
shall reward thee when thou dost awake.
Cradle Song
Music by William Byrd
1. My sweet little darling, my comfort and joy,
Sing lullaby lulla;
In beauty surpassing the princes of Troy,
Sing lullaby lulla;
Now hush, child, now sleep, child, Thy mother’s sweet boy,
Sing lullaby lulla;
May God bless and keep Thee from cruel annoy
Sing lullaby lulla.
2. My sweet little darling, my baby, my son,
Sing lullaby lulla;
Our lives you have filled and our hearts you have won.
Sing lullaby lulla;
God’s child you are surely as rivers do run
Sing lullaby lulla;
Now rest you my Jesus for night has begun.
Sing lullaby lulla.
Mary's Cradle Song
Music by Max Reger
Words by Martin Boelitz & Elizabeth Eva Leach
As Mary sits in rosy bowers and rocks her tiny child,
Through the leaves and branches waft the summer breezes mild.
At Mary's pale feet sings a lovely little bird;
Ah, lullaby, sweet, lullaby!
Holy is thy laughter, holier is thy need to rest
Lay thy weary young hear, safe upon they mother's breast!
Ah, lullaby, sweet, lullaby!