Five Lyrics of Robert Herrick - Roger Quilter
by Roger Quilter
4-Part - Digital Sheet Music

Choral Choir (SATB) - Level 2 - Digital Download

SKU: A0.1171401

Composed by Roger Quilter. 20th Century,Classical. Octavo. 24 pages. Forsyth Brothers Ltd #771738. Published by Forsyth Brothers Ltd (A0.1171401).

A delightful early opus from one of the most individual English songwriters of the Twentieth Century, Roger Quilter (1877-1953). The texts are taken from the works of Seventeenth Century English poet Robert Herrick (ca 1591-1674) whose lyrics Quilter also set to music in his Opus 8 song-cycle "To Julia" (1905). The Opus 7 settings are dedicated to Quilter's friend Percy Grainger.

FIVE LYRICS OF ROBERT HERRICK (SATB & Piano):

1. Cupid
2. A Dirge
3. Morning Song
4. To Electra
5. To Violets

 
Cupid

Love, like a beggar came to me

With hose and doublet torn;

His shirt bedangling from his knee,

With hat and shoes outworn.

 
He asked an alms; I gave him bread,

And meat too for his need,

Of which, when he had fully fed,

He wished me all good speed.


Away he went, but as he turned,

In faith I know not how,

He touched me so, as that I burned

And am tormented now.

 
Love’s silent flames and fires obscure

Then crept into my heart;

And though I saw no bow, I’m sure

His finger was the dart.

 
A Dirge

Here she lies, in bed of spice,

Fair as Eve in Paradise

For her beauty was such

Poets could not praise too much.

Virgins come, and in a ring

Her supremest requiem sing.

Then depart but see ye tread

Lightly, lightly o’er the dead.


Morning Song

 
Let's now take our time,

While we're in our prime,

And old, old age is afar off:

For the evil, evil days

Will come on apace,

Before we can be aware of.

 
To Electra

I dare not ask a kiss;

I dare not beg a smile;

Lest, having that or this,

I might grow proud the while.

 
No, no, the utmost share

Of my desire shall be

Only to kiss the air

That lately kissèd thee.

 
To Violets

Welcome, maids of honour!

You do bring

In the Spring

And wait upon her

 
She has virgins many

Fresh and fair;

Yet you are

More sweet than any


Y'are the maiden posies

And so graced,

To be placed

'Fore damask roses.


Yet though thus respected

By and by

Ye do lie,

Poor girls, neglected.