The music-makers, Op. 69 - Elgar, Edward

"This 'ode' sets a poem by Alfred O'Shaughnessy for Contralto solo, chorus and orchestra. The work contains many quotations from Elgar's earlier works, particularly Enigma, Gerontious, Sea Pictures, both Symphonies and the Violin Concerto. It was first performed at the Birmingham Festival on 1 Oct 1912.<br>"

⌛ Period → Romantic

◈ Genre / Form Cantatas

♬ Voicing → SATB

◆ Difficulty

Advanced (Grade 5-6)

¶ Language → English

Parts 4

Instruments Orchestra

Pages 74

CPDL # 12955

Editor Michael Gibson

Posted 2006-10-30

License CPDL License

¶Lyrics / Text

We are the music-makers, And we are the dreamers of dreams, Wandering by lone sea-breakers, And sitting by desolate streams; World-losers and world-forsakers, On whom the pale moon gleams: Yet we are the movers and shakers Of the world for ever, it seems. With wonderful deathless ditties We build up the world's great cities, And out of a fabulous story We fashion an empire's glory: One man with a dream, at pleasure, Shall go forth and conquer a crown; And three with a new song's measure Can trample an empire down. We, in the ages lying In the buried past of the earth, Built Nineveh with our sighing, And Babel itself in our mirth; And o'erthrew them with prophesying To the old of the new world's worth; For each age is a dream that is dying, Or one that is coming to birth. We are the music-makers, A breath of our inspiration Is the life of each generation A wondrous thing of our dreaming Unearthly, impossible seeming… The soldier, the king, and the peasant Are working together in one, Till our dream shall become their present, And their work in the world be done. They had no vision amazing Of the goodly house they are raising; They had no divine foreshowing Of the land to which they are going: But on one man's soul it hath broken, A light that doth not depart; And his look, or a word he hath spoken, Wrought flame in another man's heart. And therefore today is thrilling With a past day's late fulfilling; And the multitudes are enlisted In the faith that their fathers resisted, And, scorning the dream of to-morrow, Are bringing to pass, as they may, In the world, for its joy or its sorrow, The dream that was scorned yesterday. With our dreaming and singing, Ceaseless and sorrowless we! The glory about us clinging Of the glorious futures we see, Our souls with high music ringing; O men! It must ever be That we dwell in our dreaming and singing, A little apart from ye. For we are afar with the dawning And the suns that are not yet high, And out of the infinite morn

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