At her fair hands (Charles Hubert Hastings Parry): Difference between revisions

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{{Language|English}}
{{Language|English}}
{{Instruments|Keyboard}}
{{Instruments|Keyboard}}
{{Pub|1|1898}}
{{Pub|1|1898|in ''{{NoCo|Eight Four-Part Songs}}''|no=3}}


'''Description:''' ''Eight Four-part Songs'' (1898) No. 3
'''Description:'''  
# [[Phillis (Charles Hubert Hastings Parry)|Phillis]]
# [[O Love, they wrong thee much (Charles Hubert Hastings Parry)|O Love, they wrong thee much]]
# [[At her fair hands (Charles Hubert Hastings Parry)|At her fair hands]]
# [[Home of my heart (Charles Hubert Hastings Parry)|Home of my heart]]
# [[You gentle nymphs (Charles Hubert Hastings Parry)|You gentle nymphs]]
# [[Come pretty wag (Charles Hubert Hastings Parry)|Come pretty wag]]
# [[Ye thrilled me once (Charles Hubert Hastings Parry)|Ye thrilled me once]]
# [[Better music ne'er was known (Charles Hubert Hastings Parry)| Better music ne'er was known]]


'''External websites:'''
'''External websites:'''

Revision as of 14:42, 16 October 2019

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  • (Posted 2016-05-01)  CPDL #39495:         
Editor: James Gibb (submitted 2016-05-01).   Score information: A4, 6 pages, 94 kB   Copyright: CPDL
Edition notes: MusicXML source file(s) in compressed .mxl format.

General Information

Title: At her fair hands
Composer: Charles Hubert Hastings Parry
Lyricist: Robert Jones

Number of voices: 4vv   Voicing: SATB

Genre: SecularPartsong

Language: English
Instruments: Keyboard

First published: 1898 in Eight Four-Part Songs, no. 3

Description:

External websites:

Original text and translations

English.png English text

At her fair hands how have I grace entreated
With prayers oft repeated!
Yet still my love is thwarted:
Heart, let her go, for she'll not be converted
Say, shall she go? O no, no, no!
She is most fair, though she be marble-hearted.

How often have my sighs declared my anguish,
Wherein I daily languish!
Yet still she doth procure it:
Heart, let her go, for I cannot endure it
Say, shall she go? O no, no, no!
She gave the wound, and she alone must cure it.

The trickling tear that down my cheeks have flowed,
My love have often showed,
Yet still unkind I prove her.
Heart, let her go, for nought I do can move her;
Say, shall she go? O no, no, no!
Though me she hate, I cannot choose but love her.