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Henry Purcell

Z 626 Dido and Aeneas 6 See, your royal guest appears.

BELINDA:
See, your royal guest appears;
How godlike is the form he bears!
AENEAS:
When, royal fair, shall I be bless'd,
With cares of love and state distress'd?
DIDO:
Fate forbids what you pursue.
AENEAS:
Aeneas has no fate but you!
Let Dido smile, and I'll defy
The feeble stroke of Destiny.
 
CHOIR:
Cupid only throws the dart
That's dreadful to a warrior's heart,
And she that wounds can only cure the smart.
 
AENEAS:
If not for mine, for empire's sake
Some pity on your lover take;
Ah! make not in a hopeless fire
A hero fall, and Troy once more expire.
BELINDA:
Pursue thy conquest, Love--her eyes
Confess the flame her tongue denies.
 
(A Dance: Guitars Chacony.)
 
CHOIR:
To the hills and the vales, to the rocks and the mountains,
To the musical groves and the cool shady fountains
Let the triumphs of Love and of beauty be shown;
Go revel ye Cupids, the day is your own.
 
(The Triumphing Dance)
 

Z 626 Dido and Aeneas 4. Whence could so much virtue spring?

DIDO:
Whence could so much virtue spring?
What storms, what battles did he sing?
Anchises' valour mix'd with Venus' charms,
How soft in peace, and yet how fierce in arms!
BELINDA:
A tale so strong and full of wo
Might melt the rocks, as well as you.
What stubborn heart unmov'd could see
Such distress, such piety?
DIDO:
Mine with storms of care oppress'd
Is taught to pity the distress'd;
Mean wretches grief can touch,
So soft, so sensible my breast,
but ah! I fear I pity his too much.
 

Z 626 Dido and Aeneas, I, 1. Shake the cloud from off your brow.

BELINDA
Shake the cloud from off your brow,
Fate your wishes does allow;
Empire growing,
Pleasures flowing,
Fortune smiles and so should you.
CHORUS
Banish sorrow, banish care,
Grief should ne'er approach the fair.
 

Z 339 Here the Deities approve.

Here the Deities approve
The God of Music and of Love;
All the talents they have lent you,
All the blessings they have sent you,
Pleas'd to see what they bestow,
Live and thrive so well below.
 

Z 583, 2. Music For A While.

Shall all your cares beguile.
Wond'ring how your pains were eas'd
And disdaining to be pleas'd
Till Alecto free the dead
From their eternal bands,
Till the snakes drop from her head,
And the whip from out her hands.
 

Z 626 Dido and Aeneas: Dido's Lament

Thy hand Belinda, darkness shades me,
On thy bosom let me rest.
More I would, but Death invades me;
Death is now a welcome guest.
 
When I am laid in earth,
May my wrongs create no trouble in thy breast.
Remember me, remember me,
But ah! Forget my fate.
 

Z 605/1 Oh! how you protest.

O How you Protest, and solemnly Lye,
Look humble, and fawn like an Ass?
I'm pleas'd I must own, whenever I see
A Lover that's brought to this pass.
But keep farther off, y'are naughty I fear;
I vow I will never yield to't:
You ask me in vain, for never I swear,
I never, no never will do't.
 
For when the Deed's done, how quickly you go;
No more of the Lover remains.
In haste you depart, what e're we can do,
And stubbornly throw off your Chains:
Desist then in time, let's hear on't no more;
I vow I will never yield to't:
You promise in vain, in vain you adore;
I never, no never will do't.
 

Wayward sisters, you that fright

SORCERESS
Wayward sisters, you that fright
The lonely traveller by night.
Who, like dismal ravens crying,
Beat the windows of the dying,
Appear! Appear at my call, and share in the fame
Of a mischief shall make all Carthage flame.
Appear!
 

Evening Hymn

Now, now that the sun hath veil'd his light
And bid the world goodnight;
To the soft bed my body I dispose,
But where shall my soul repose?
Dear, dear God, even in Thy arms,
And can there be any so sweet security!
Then to thy rest, O my soul!
And singing, praise the mercy
That prolongs thy days.
Hallelujah!
 

Z 412 Sawney is a bonny lad.

Sawney is a bonny lad,
But Sawney kens it well,
And Sawney might a boon have had,
But Sawney loves to tell.
He weens that I mun love him soon,
Gin lovers now are rare,
But I'd as lief have none, as one,
Whom twanty share.
 
When anent your love you come,
Ah! Sawney were you true,
What tho' I seem to frown and gloom,
I ne'er could gang from you.
Yet still my tongue, do what I can,
With muckle woe denies,
Wa'es me! when once we like a man,
It boots not to be wise.
 

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