Triumph (Anonymous)

From ChoralWiki
Jump to navigation Jump to search

Music files

L E G E N D Disclaimer How to download
ICON SOURCE
Icon_pdf.gif Pdf
Icon_snd.gif Midi
MusicXML.png MusicXML
Musc3.png MuseScore3
File details.gif File details
Question.gif Help
  • (Posted 2019-09-28)  CPDL #55450:         
Editor: Barry Johnston (submitted 2019-09-28).   Score information: 7 x 10 inches (landscape), 1 page, 64 kB   Copyright: Public Domain
Edition notes: Transcribed from Wyeth's Repository, Part Second, 1813. Notes in four-shape format, as published in 1813.

General Information

Title: Triumph
First Line: Tis done! Lo, they come! bright celestials descend
Composer: Anonymous
Lyricist: Anonymous lyricist

Number of voices: 3vv   Voicing: STB
Genre: Sacred   Meter: Irregular meter, mostly 11s

Language: English
Instruments: A cappella

First published: 1813 in Wyeth's Repository, Part Second
Description: Words by an unknown author, apparently first published in 1795, the last eight lines of a twenty-line lyric poem entitled The Christian's Soliloquy.

External websites:

Original text and translations

English.png English text

The Christian's Soliloquy
(In Imitation of Marcus Aurelius)

Why shrinks my weak nature? ah! what can it mean?
Why flutters my heart, which till now was serene?
Why lingering and trembling when glory's so near?
Or whence this enchantment, which fetters me here?
Thou world of illusions! forever adieu!
Thy phantoms unhallowed recede from my view!
New worlds and new wonders my passions invite,
And glory ineffable dawns on my sight!
Hail visions celestial! and thou Divine Source
Of life, hope and glory! if e'er in my course
Thy grace hath relieved and exalted my heart,
Now let me in peace and in triumph depart.
'Tis done! Lo, they come! bright celestials descend!
Saints, angels and seraphs their symphonies lend:
The spheres are all vocal, the raptures draw near,
Immortal vibrations resound in my ear!
Cease, cease then, fond nature! O cease thy vain strife,
And let me now languish and die into life;
Blest powers receive me; I mount on your wing:
O grave, where's thy victory? O death, where's thy sting?

— New York Magazine vol. 6, no. 4, p. 253. April 1795.