Ah, welladay - Arne, Thomas Augustine

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"Probably written for performance at Vauxhall. The text is adapted from Philips' First Pastoral."

⌛ Epoche → Klassik ◈ Genre → Weltliche Musik ♬ Besetzung → solo high

◆ Difficulty

Virtuos (Oberstufe)

¶ Sprache → Englisch

Stimmen 1

Instrumente Basso continuo,Violins

Seiten 4

CPDL Nr. 77057

Bearbeiter Christopher Shaw

Veröffentlicht 2023-11-07

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¶Liedtext

Ah! Welladay! must I endure This pain, and who shall work my cure? Fond love will never seek repose; No measure to its grief it knows. The winds are hush'd, and dewy sleep With soft embrace has seiz'd my sheep. All wrapp'd in peaceful slumber lie, But wakeful Philomel and I. Who better seen, in shepherd's arts, To win the wanton lasses' hearts? How to my oaten pipe so sweet Wont they to change their nimble feet? And many tales of mirth had I, To chase the sun down the sky: Since Lucy wrought her spite alone, To woods I pour my fruitless moan. Oh quit thy scorn, relentless fair! E'er long I perish through despair. Had Rosalind possess'd my mind, The maiden would have been more kind. Oh think! for beauty will not stay, The flow'rs ungather'd will decay: The flow'rs returning seasons bring, But beauty has no second Spring. Oh would my gifts but win her heart! Could I but half I feel impart! For plums I'd climb the knotty tree, Of honey rob the thrifty bee: Fair is my flock; nor comeless I, If fountains flatter not; and why Should fountains flatter us, yet show The flow'rs less beauteous than they grow? Oh come, my love! nor think it mean The dams to milk, the lambkins wean: How would the crook beseem thy hand! How would my younglings round thee stand! Ah younglings! gaze not on her eye: Such glances are the cause I die. Sleep, sleep, my flock, for you may take Your rest; tho' thus your master wake.