Father of heroes (John Wall Callcott)

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  • (Posted 2023-09-12)  CPDL #75355:  Network.png
Editor: Christopher Shaw (submitted 2023-09-12).   Score information: A4, 13 pages, 535 kB   Copyright: CC BY SA
Edition notes: Includes a keyboard reduction of the a cappella choral score. Please click on the link for preview/playback/PDF download. Prepared from the primary source.
  • (Posted 2021-09-28)  CPDL #65926:         
Editor: James Gibb (submitted 2021-09-28).   Score information: A4, 11 pages, 298 kB   Copyright: CPDL
Edition notes: Transcription of Novello's edition
  • (Posted 2009-05-03)  CPDL #19378:        (Sibelius 5)
Editor: Jonathan Goodliffe (submitted 2009-05-03).   Score information: A4, 16 pages, 137 kB   Copyright: CPDL
Edition notes: Based upon Horsley's edition.

General Information

Title: Father of heroes
Composer: John Wall Callcott
Lyricist: Ossian
Number of voices: 5vv   Voicing: ATTBB
Genre: SecularGlee

Language: English
Instruments: A cappella (originally). Piano accompaniment added by William Horsley (1774-1858).

First published: 1792 Warren's thirty-first collection
First published: 1824 Horsley (memorial edition)
    2nd published: 1853 Novello's Glee Hive no.66
Description: This glee gained a Catch Club Prize Medal in 1792. Set to 3 unconnected passages from two "Ossian" poems. May have been composed on the occasion of a military or naval victory.

External websites:

Original text and translations

English.png English text

Text from poems by "Ossian" ((James Macpherson (1736-1796))

From "Temora", Book II
FATHER of heroes! … High dweller of eddying winds! where the dark-red thunder marks the troubled clouds!
Open thou thy stormy halls. Let the bards of old be near.

From “Berrathon”
We sit, at the rock, and there is no voice; no light but the meteor of fire!

Oh! from the rock on the hill, from the top of the windy steep, speak, ye ghosts of the dead!
Speak … Whither are ye gone to rest? In what cave of the hill shall I find the departed?
No feeble voice is on the gale: no answer half-drowned in the storm!

Thy people bend before thee. Thou turnest the battle in the field of the brave …
Thy tempests are before my thy face. But thy my dwelling is calm, above the clouds; the fields of thy rest are pleasant.