Friday, March 8, 2024

THE SILVER SWAN BY ORLANDO GIBBONS

 The Silver Swan BY ORLANDO GIBBONS


The silver swan, who living had no note, 

When death approached, unlocked her silent throat; 

Leaning her breast against the reedy shore, 

Thus sung her first and last, and sung no more: 

“Farewell, all joys; Oh death, come close mine eyes; 

More geese than swans now live, more fools than wise.”

                                            ###







signature written in ink in a flowing script


https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bvl9cZMzi5

Orlando Gibbons (bapt. 25 December 1583 – 5 June 1625) was an English composer and keyboard player who was one of the last masters of the English Virginalist School and English Madrigal School. The best known member of a musical family dynasty, by the 1610s he was the leading composer and organist in England, with a career cut short by his sudden death in 1625. As a result, Gibbons's oeuvre was not as large as that of his contemporaries, like the elder William Byrd,[2] but he made considerable contributions to many genres of his time. He is often seen as a transitional figure from the Renaissance to the Baroque periods.


     https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Orlando_Gibbons


                                                                       ###


TheSilverSwanrlandoGibbons

The Silver Swan by Orlando Gibbons


The Silver Swan

BY ORLANDO GIBBONS

The silver swan, who living had no note, 

When death approached, unlocked her silent throat; 

Leaning her breast against the reedy shore, 

Thus sung her first and last, and sung no more: 

“Farewell, all joys; Oh death, come close mine eyes; 

More geese than swans now live, more fools than wise.”


December 25, 1583 – June 5, 1625


Orlando Gibbons (born 1583, Oxford, Oxfordshire, Eng. —died June 5, 1625, Canterbury, Kent) was an organist and composer, one of the last great figures of the English polyphonic school.


https://www.britannica.com/biography/Orlando-Gibbons


https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/50405/the-silver-swan


Two Performances:  

1.  

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l8kUlKE10-E



2.

###

Friday, March 1, 2024

The Death of Arthur from Idylls of the King by Alfred, Lord Tennyson

Idylls of the King -- Morte D'Arthur, by Alfred, Lord Tennyson And slowly answer'd Arthur from the barge: "The old order changeth, yielding place to new, And God fulfils Himself in many ways, Lest one good custom should corrupt the world. Comfort thyself: what comfort is in me? I have lived my life, and that which I have done May He within Himself make pure! but thou, If thou shouldst never see my face again, Pray for my soul. More things are wrought by prayer Than this world dreams of. Wherefore, let thy voice Rise like a fountain for me night and day. For what are men better than sheep or goats That nourish a blind life within the brain, If, knowing God, they lift not hands of prayer Both for themselves and those who call them friend? For so the whole round earth is every way Bound by gold chains about the feet of God. But now farewell. I am going a long way With these thou seëst—if indeed I go— (For all my mind is clouded with a doubt) To the island-valley of Avilion; Where falls not hail, or rain, or any snow, Nor ever wind blows loudly; but it lies Deep-meadow'd, happy, fair with orchard-lawns And bowery hollows crown'd with summer sea, Where I will heal me of my grievous wound." So said he, and the barge with oar and sail Moved from the brink, like some full-breasted swan That, fluting a wild carol ere her death, Ruffles her pure cold plume, and takes the flood With swarthy webs. Long stood Sir Bedivere Revolving many memories, till the hull Look'd one black dot against the verge of dawn, And on the mere the wailing died away. ### at March 08, 2024 Email This BlogThis! Share to Twitter Share to Facebook Share to Pinterest No comments: Post a Comment Newer Post Older Post Home Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom)

A Song for March, 2024

Here's my little sing-song rondo-- 

I now have sold my lovely condo!

And bit by bit I'm getting by, 

So now it's time for me to die!

It's what I pray for every night, 

That I'll be gone before it's light!

Dear Lord, I lay me down to sleep, 

My soul and body You may keep!

                         ###



JOAN'S DEATH POEMS: COLLECTED! (A Work in Progress)

Erato: Muse of Poetry I did not write most of the works in his blog.  But I have loved and been inspired by them over the years.  And right ...