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

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==Original text and translations==
==Original text and translations==
{{NoText}}
{{Text|English|
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.}}


[[Category:Sheet music]]
[[Category:Sheet music]]
[[Category:Romantic music]]
[[Category:Romantic music]]

Revision as of 06:05, 1 May 2016

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  • (Posted 2016-05-01)  CPDL #39495:  Icon_pdf.gif Icon_snd.gif Capella
Editor: James Gibb (submitted 2016-05-01).   Score information: A4, 6 pages, 94 kB   Copyright: CPDL
Edition notes:

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

Published: 1898

Description: Eight Four-part Songs (1898) No.3

  1. Phillis
  2. O Love, they wrong thee much
  3. At her fair hands
  4. Home of My Heart (Arthur Benson)
  5. You gentle nymphs
  6. Come pretty wag
  7. Ye thrilled me once (Robert Seymour Bridges)
  8. Better music ne'er were known (Francis Beaumont and Fletcher)

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.