Begin the song (The Resurrection), Z 183 - Purcell, Henry

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"From Abraham Cowley's "Pindarick" Odes."

⌛ Epoche → Barock ◈ Genre / Form → Art songs

♯ Tonart C major

⁄ Taktart 4/4

♬ Besetzung → Solo Bass

◆ Difficulty

Mittelstufe

↕ Tonumfang C – e'

¶ Sprache → Englisch

Takte 149

Textur Homophon

Stimmen 2

Instrumente Basso continuo

Seiten 5

CPDL Nr. 21655

Bearbeiter Lewis Jones

Veröffentlicht 2010-05-25

Lizenz Gemeinfrei

♫Tonumfänge

Bass

E – e'

Continuo

C – c'

Schlagwörter

Pages_using_DynamicPageList3_parser_function Posted_in_May_2010 More_than_90_days_old More_than_30_days_old CPDL_216xy

¶Liedtext

Begin the song, and strike the living lyre! Lo! How the years to come, a numerous and well fitted quire, All hand in hand do decently advance, And to my song with smooth and equal measures dance. Whilst the dance lasts how long so e'er it be, My music's voice shall bear it company Till all gentle notes be drown'd In the last trumpet's dreadful sound, That to the spheres themselves shall silence bring, Untune the universal string: Then all the wide extended sky And all th'harmonious world on high And Virgil's sacred work shall die; And he himself shall see in one fire shine Rich nature's ancient Troy, though built by hands divine. Whom thunder's dismal noise And all the prophets and apostles louder spake And all the creatures' plain conspiring voice Could not, whilst they liv'd, awake, This mightier sound shall make When dead to arise And open tombs and open eyes to the long sluggards of five thousand years, This mightier sound shall make its hearer's ears. Then shall the scatter'd atoms crowding come, Back to their ancient home, Some from birds, from fishes some, Some from earth, and some from seas, Some from beasts, and some from trees, Some descend from clouds on high, Some from metals upward fly And, where th'attending soul naked and shiv'ring stands, Meet, salute, and join their hands, As dispers'd soldiers at the trumpet's call Haste to their colours all, Unhappy most, like tortur'd men, Their joints new set, to be new wrack'd again: To mountains the for shelter pray, The mountains shake and run about no less confus'd than they, Stop, my muse, allay thy vig'rous heat, Kindled at a hint so great; Hold thy Pindaric Pegasus closely in, Which does to rage begin And this steep hill would gallop up with violent course; 'Tis an unruly and hard mouth'd horse, Fierce and unbroken yet, Impatient of the spur or bit, Now prances stately and anon flies o'er the place, Disdains the servile law of any settled pace, Conscious and proud of his own nat'ral force, 'Twill no uns