To all you ladies now at hand - Callcott, John Wall

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"Also known as "The new mariners", to distinguish it from "The mariners" ("Ye gentlemen of England"). N.B. This statement is wrong; see Discussion."

⌛ Epoche → Klassik ◈ Genre → Glees

♯ Tonart B- major

⁄ Taktart 4/4

♬ Besetzung → ATB

◆ Difficulty

Fortgeschritten

↕ Tonumfang A – g'

♩ Tempo 152

◷ Dauer ~47 sec

¶ Sprache → Englisch

Takte 31

Textur Homophon

Stimmen 5

Instrumente A cappella (originally). Piano accompaniment added by William Horsley (1774-1858).

Seiten 3

CPDL Nr. 19208

Bearbeiter Jonathan Goodliffe

Veröffentlicht 2009-04-11

Lizenz CPDL-Lizenz

♫Tonumfänge

Counter tenor

f – g'

Tenor

d – f'

Bass

A – d'

Piano

A – f'

Schlagwörter

Pages_using_DynamicPageList3_parser_function Posted_in_April_2009 More_than_90_days_old More_than_30_days_old CPDL_192xy

¶Liedtext

To all you ladies now at land by Charles Sackville, Earl of Dorset (1636-1706) '''To all you ladies now at land We men at sea indite; But first would have you understand How hard it is to write: The Muses now, and Neptune too, We must implore to write to you-- With a fa, la, la, la, la!''' [For though the Muses should prove kind, And fill our empty brain, Yet if rough Neptune rouse the wind To wave the azure main, Our paper, pen, and ink, and we, Roll up and down our ships at sea-- With a fa, la, la, la, la! Then if we write not by each post, Think not we are unkind; Nor yet conclude our ships are lost By Dutchmen, or by wind: Our tears we'll send a speedier way, The tide shall bring 'em twice a day-- With a fa, la, la, la, la! The King with wonder and surprise Will swear the seas grow bold. Because the tides will higher rise Then e'er they us'd of old; But let him know it is our tears Bring floods of grief to Whitehall stairs-- With a fa, la, la, la. la! Should foggy Opdam chance to know Our sad and dismal story, The Dutch would scorn so weak a foe, And quit their fort at Goree; For what resistance can they find From men who've left their hearts behind?- With a fa, la, la, la, la! Let wind and weather do its worst, Be you to us but kind; Let Dutchmen vapour, Spaniards curse, No sorrow we shall find; 'Tis then no matter how things go, Or who's our friend, or who's our foe-- With a fa, la, la, la, la! To pass our tedious hours away We throw a merry main, Or else at serious ombre play; But why should we in vain Each other's ruin thus pursue? We were undone when we left you-- With a fa, la, la, la, la! But now our fears tempestuous grow And cast our hopes away, Whilst you, regardless of our woe, Sit careless at a play: Perhaps permit some happier man To kiss your hand, or flirt your fan-- With a fa, la, la, la, la! When any mournful tune you hear That dies in ev'ry note, As if it sigh'd with each man's care For being so remote, Think then how often love we've