Descend, ye Nine! (Charles Hubert Hastings Parry): Difference between revisions
m (Text replacement - "'''Title:''' ''(.+)''<br>" to "{{Title|''$1''}}") |
m (Text replacement - "\*\{\{CPDLno\|([0123456789]*)\}\} (.*) \{\{Editor\|(.*)\|(.*)\}\}" to "*{{PostedDate|$4}} {{CPDLno|$1}} $2 {{Editor|$3|$4}}") |
||
| Line 1: | Line 1: | ||
==Music files== | ==Music files== | ||
{{#Legend:}} | {{#Legend:}} | ||
*{{CPDLno|18052}} [[Media:Descend-Ye_Nine.pdf|{{pdf}}]] [[Media:Descend-Ye_Nine.mid|{{mid}}]] [[Media:Descend-Ye_Nine.mxl|{{XML}}]] [[Media:Descend-Ye_Nine.sib|{{sib}}]] (Sibelius 4) | *{{PostedDate|2008-09-12}} {{CPDLno|18052}} [[Media:Descend-Ye_Nine.pdf|{{pdf}}]] [[Media:Descend-Ye_Nine.mid|{{mid}}]] [[Media:Descend-Ye_Nine.mxl|{{XML}}]] [[Media:Descend-Ye_Nine.sib|{{sib}}]] (Sibelius 4) | ||
{{Editor|John Henry Fowler|2008-09-12}}{{ScoreInfo|Letter|20|197}}{{Copy|CPDL}} | {{Editor|John Henry Fowler|2008-09-12}}{{ScoreInfo|Letter|20|197}}{{Copy|CPDL}} | ||
:'''Edition notes:''' | :'''Edition notes:''' | ||
Revision as of 15:15, 31 July 2020
Music files
| ICON | SOURCE |
|---|---|
 |
|
 |
Midi |
 |
MusicXML |
 |
Sibelius |
 |
File details |
 |
Help |
- (Posted 2008-09-12) CPDL #18052: (Sibelius 4)
- Editor: John Henry Fowler (submitted 2008-09-12). Score information: Letter, 20 pages, 197 kB Copyright: CPDL
- Edition notes:
General Information
Title: Descend, ye Nine!
Composer: Charles Hubert Hastings Parry
Lyricist: Alexander Pope
Number of voices: 4vv Voicing: SATB
Genre: Secular, Partsong
Language: English
Instruments: Organ
First published: 1889
Description: No. 2 from Ode on St. Cecilia's Day (1889)
External websites:
Original text and translations
English text
Descend, ye Nine! descend and sing;
The breathing instruments inspire,
Wake into voice each silent string,
And sweep the sounding lyre;
In a sadly-pleasing strain
Let the warbling lute complain:
Let the loud trumpet sound,
Till the roofs all around
The shrill echoes rebound:
While in more lengthen'd notes and slow,
The deep, majestic, solemn organs blow.
Hark! the numbers soft and clear,
Gently steal upon the ear;
Now louder, and yet louder rise,
And fill with spreading sounds the skies;
Exulting in triumph now swell the bold notes,
In broken air, trembling, the wild music floats;
Till, by degrees, remote and small,
The strains decay,
And melt away,
In a dying, dying fall.