John E.J. IRELAND MOERAN Choral Music A Cradle Song • Sea Fever • Songs of Springtime David Owen Norris, Piano The Carice Singers • George Parris John Ireland (1879-1962) E.J. Moeran (1892-1950) John Ireland (1879-1962) and E.J. Moeran (1892-1950)

1 A Cradle Song (1912) 2:34 Songs of Springtime (1929) 13:16 Choral Music 2 Weep you no more, sad fountains (1909) 2:07 ^ I. Under the greenwood tree 1:06 Renowned for his outstanding catalogue of piano Masefield’s Saltwater Poems and Ballads of 1902 & II. The River-God’s Song 1:49 miniatures and solo songs, John Ireland is little known remains one of Ireland’s best known and most frequently 3 Laughing Song (1910) 1:00 these days as a composer of partsongs, but though his performed songs. Written in 1913, its later arrangement * III. Spring, the sweet Spring 1:27 4 The Peaceful Western Wind (late 1890s) 2:01 output was slender, he brought a polish and artistry to the for baritone, male-voice choir and piano by Mansel ( IV. Love is a sickness 3:24 genre which evinces a consummate understanding of Thomas was clearly intended for the tradition of Welsh 5 Spring, the sweet Spring (1908) 1:39 Ellie Carnegie Brown, Soprano choral forces gained from many years as organist at Holy male-voice choirs which Thomas knew well, though the 6 When May is in his prime (1913) 2:56 ) V. Sigh no more, ladies 1:38 Trinity Church, Sloane Square and St Luke’s, Chelsea. arrangement also lends itself well to the rough-hewn, His first effort, a setting of Thomas Campion’s The male-orientated, maritime world that Masefield envisaged ¡ VI. Good Wine 1:16 7 Cupid (c. 1912) 1:06 Peaceful Western Wind 4 dates from the late 1890s when in his poetry. ™ VII. To Daffodils 2:36 8 Fain would I change that note (1921) 2:16 he was still a student. Unpublished until 1994, it reveals a After the First World War, Ireland provided tunes for stylistic deference to the partsongs of his masters, Parry two hymns devoted to the peace across the continents. £ Blue-eyed Spring (1931) 1:06 9 Twilight Night (1922) 2:54 and Stanford. The Campion text is also typical of the Irene, a full-bodied unison melody, was written for Alfred Josh Cooter, Tenor 0 These things shall be (1936-37) 2:48 reawakening of interest in Elizabethan and Jacobean Moss’s Hymns for the Celebration of Peace in 1918. ¢ Weep you no more, sad fountains (1922) 2:05 texts (as already shown in Parry’s two sets of Elizabethan Implicit in the text and music is a lingering sentiment of ! The Hills (1953) 2:44 Lyrics and Stanford’s Elizabethan Pastorales) and this patriotism. Fraternity, on the other hand, written a year predilection continued for Ireland in Thomas Nashe’s later, explored a very different world. Published in the first @ Immortality (1942) 3:47 Phyllida and Corydon (1939) 26:06 ∞ I. Phyllida and Corydon – Madrigal 3:14 Spring, the sweet Spring (1908) 5, an attractive modified volume of the official publication of the League of the Arts # They told me, Heraclitus (1925) 2:45 strophic design with suitably onomatopoeic refrain for National and Civic Ceremony, The Motherland Song § II. Beauty sat bathing by a spring – Madrigal 4:37 (dedicated to Lionel Benson and the Magpie Minstrel Book, the words of this unusual hymn were selected from $ Sea Fever (arr. Mansel Thomas) ¶ III. On a hill there grows a flower – Pastoral 3:05 Society), the plangent Weep you no more, sad fountains verses from John Addington Symonds’s poem A vista. (1913/1989) 2:40 Emily Burnett, Soprano 2 (1909) and a further Campion setting for voices and There is little or no religious allusion here; instead, the Hugo Popplewell, Bass • IV. Phyllis inamorata – Air 0:59 piano, In praise of Neptune (1911) %, a muscular, unison poem – entitled These things shall be 0 (which Ireland David Owen Norris, Piano tune (probably intended for use in schools) which he later would later use for his eponymous choral work in 1937) – ª V. Said I that Amaryllis – Ballet 1:34 orchestrated. Between 1910 and 1912 Ireland turned to expresses those aspirations of a war-torn Britain % In praise of Neptune (1911) 1:55 º VI. The treasure of my heart – Conzonet 2:45 the poetry of William Blake’s magical Songs of Innocence emerging from an unprecedented world conflagration in David Owen Norris, Piano ⁄ VII. While she lies sleeping – Air 3:10 and set three of the poems. The first, Laughing Song which mankind will live ‘unarmed… as comrades free’ in ¤ VIII. Corydon, arise – Pastoral 2:53 (1910) 3, left in manuscript by the composer, is a joyous search of a better world. They were sentiments of a new (and demanding) Scherzo in which nature joins in the democratic order, a new race of men, imbued with a ‹ IX. To meadows – Madrigal 3:49 human experience of merriment; Cupid 7, probably socialist, not to say communist idealism (which Ireland written in or around 1912, though not published until later firmly rejected) and a renewed sense of pacifism that 1961, is another Scherzo but more wryly quizzical in its had been rejected in the years before 1914. questioning demeanour. In marked contrast to the skittish Ireland did not compose any partsongs until after the humour of the two scherzi, A Cradle Song (1912) 1 is an First World War when a distinct change in his style is exquisite lullaby. Ireland’s handling of material here is observable. For When May is in his prime 6, an element masterly – a simple melody, a gentle rocking ‘charm’, of sixteenth-century modality is detectable – more so than tender suspensions, brief yet telling modulations in his earlier forays with English renaissance poetry – a suggestive of a disturbing darkness – in its evocation of stylistic feature appropriate to the literary source of the protective childhood innocence, far from the taint of Tudor poet (and composer) Richard Edwardes. This adulthood. The setting of Sea Fever $ from John reference to England’s madrigalian past (which is particularly evident in the becalmed refrains) is, however, forged in the 1930s in choral works such as These things galliard and Sigh no more ladies ), for all its irregular 5/8 ‘madrigal’ to three, ‘pastoral’ to two, ‘air’ to two with one exploited in search of a more acerbic harmonic shall be (1936-37) 0. The national fervency of Immortality metre, a ballett; while Good Wine ¡ (which surely presages ‘canzonet’ and one ‘ballet’. Some of the pieces are vocabulary in which modality and chromaticism mingle in found voice again in James Kirkup’s The Hills ! which the Galop in Moeran’s later Serenade for orchestra) is a conspicuously more ambitious in scope and difficulty as is greater concentration with a more dissonant control of Ireland contributed to A Garland for the Queen (a set of drinking song, a genre much favoured by Warlock. Love is evident from the amusing encounter of the lovers, Phyllis diatonicism. These linguistic aspects were already partsongs by a cross-section of living British composers to a sickness ( betrays an affinity with the airs of Dowland and Corydon, in the opening number ∞, the sensuous forming part of Ireland’s more advanced vocabulary in his celebrate the coronation of Elizabeth II in 1953). A gentle and Campion, not only in its melancholic melody but also Beauty sat bathing by a spring § with its rueful refrain and solo songs of the period, notably in his cycle The Land of tribute to the monarch, its opening and closing gestures through its affecting chromaticisms. A similar vein of the lively Corydon, arise ¤. Others such as the ravishing Lost Content (1920-21), and this is also palpable in his seem to quote, nostalgically, from the slow movement of melancholy haunts the last of the set, To Daffodils ™, in pastoral On a hill there grows a flower ¶ (which looks partsong setting of Tobias Hume’s passionate declaration Elgar’s First Symphony. which Moeran succinctly captures the valedictory forward to the central episode of Overture to a Masque of of love, Fain would I change that note (1921) 8. Christina Having begun his studies as a composer with Charles disposition of Herrick’s well-known poem. 1944), the jaunty ballet Said I that Amaryllis ª and the Rossetti’s romantic and devotional poetry had already Villiers Stanford at the in 1913, This Elizabethan trend continued in Blue-eyed Spring metrically quirky canzonet The treasure of my heart º are manifested its appeal to Ireland in his song cycle Mother Ernest John Moeran joined the Norfolk Regiment and saw (1931) £, a song for solo tenor (with pastiche lyrics by shorter and more concise like those of Songs of and Child (1918), and once again it proved to be an active service in France during the First World War. After Robert Nichols) and a choral ballet-like ‘fa la’ Springtime. Also in this category is the air While she lies inspiration for Twilight Night (1922) 9, a heartfelt narrative being wounded and later demobilised, he resumed his accompaniment, and, in 1939, with a second collection sleeping ⁄ (actually another setting of ‘Weep you no of close friendship severed by distance and duty, yet studies at the RCM with John Ireland in 1920. Ireland’s (dubbed a ‘Choral Suite’) entitled Phyllida and Corydon, more, sad fountains’), a true gem and, in its deeply imbued with the yearning hope of future meeting and influence on Moeran was certainly strong, but it was the dedicated to another passionate lover of Elizabethan pensive interpretation of the text, powerfully characteristic remembrance. Deeply moving in its evocation of a music critic and writer Philip Heseltine (otherwise known as music, . Choosing his poems with great of the brooding chromatic language the composer had melancholy nostalgia, and so redolent of a war-weary the composer Peter Warlock) who made the strongest care (in which the love-sick youths Corydon and Phyllida explored so potently in his Symphony in G minor of 1937. Britain of the early 1920s, this is Ireland at his best. Three impression during their friendship of the 1920s. Heseltine’s are central to the theme of love and all its foibles) Moeran years later, another setting about the remembrance of passion for Elizabethan and Jacobean song and poetry is much more specific with his genres, assigning Jeremy Dibble friendship, this time of William Cory’s splendid translation clearly infected the emerging Moeran whose own solo of Heraclitus # (by Callimachus of Hallicarnassus), was songs and partsongs amply reflect the same enthusiasm. composed for Herbert Hughes and the De Reszke This is certainly evident from the three early settings he David Owen Norris Singers (a group of singers who had all been pupils of the wrote in 1922 and 1923. Weep you no more, sad fountains ¢ renowned Polish tenor, Jean de Reszke). A brooding, and especially the extraordinarily intense lament Robin Photo: Simon Weir David Owen Norris is a , composer sinuous elegy in B flat minor, the partsong has much in Hood borne on his bier (which bears comparison with and broadcaster. He has performed all common thematically (especially in the last phrase of Warlock’s A Full Heart) already show Moeran’s propensity over the world since his appointment as each verse) with the rueful Epilogue of The Land of Lost for introspective melancholy and the use of trenchant the first Gilmore Artist in 1991. His Content published just a few years before and also chromaticism influenced by the harmonic experiment of compositions include a Symphony, a presaged similar material in the forthcoming song Warlock and his mentor, Bernard van Dieren. The more gloriously tuneful Piano Concerto, the collections of Five Poems by Thomas Hardy (1926) and buoyant setting of Herrick’s famous lyric Gather ye oratorios Prayerbook and Turning Points, Songs Sacred and Profane (1929-30). rosebuds reveals an assimilation of metrical fluidity gained and the multi-media tribute to the passing After his evacuation from Guernsey in June 1940 from a knowledge of the Elizabethan madrigal, and it was seasons, HengeMusic. His Inside the (and he was one of the last to escape with his former this affinity that led to the completion of Songs of Score programmes on BBC2 television pupils John Longmire and Percy Turnbull), Ireland resided Springtime ^-™ in 1929. While evincing techniques of are a popular feature of . with friends, first in Hertfordshire and then in Essex. It was imitation and word-painting common to the madrigals of his during this time, in 1942, that he responded to a request Elizabethan forbears, and a refinement of his musical from Leslie Woodgate and the BBC Singers with a setting language, the individual songs also betray a deference of Henry Compton’s Immortality @. Looking back to the towards the renaissance dance (as essayed in Warlock’s robust diatonic languages of Parry, Stanford and Elgar, Capriol Suite of 1926). Shakespeare’s Under the the song, with its message of determination and greenwood tree ^ is a basse dance, The River-God’s Song steadfastness, shares a good deal with the style Ireland & a pavane, Spring, the sweet spring * its partnering The Carice Singers George Parris

Photo: Tom Herring Photo: Max Narula George Parris is a singer, conductor and student of early twentieth-century Anglo-Irish music. In 2011 he was awarded the Elgar Society’s Certificate of Merit for initiating an Elgar Festival at his school, St Edward’s, Oxford. In the same year, he founded The Carice Singers, and has since directed the choir in a number of concerts and one critically acclaimed recording. He has recently completed a Master’s Degree at the University of Oxford, in which he focussed on the ‘Irish’ music of Sir . George Parris now works as an artistic administrator for Longborough Festival Opera, which he combines with a Lay Clerkship at Magdalen College, Oxford.

The Carice Singers are an ensemble comprised of some of the United Kingdom’s best young professional singers, noted for their “freshness of tone” and “careful musicality” (Gramophone). Named after the daughter of Sir , the choir aims to bring an imaginative approach to choral music of the Romantic period and beyond, frequently drawing upon the latest academic research to produce original and insightful programmes. Launched in 2011 with an inaugural recital of Elgar’s choral works in the Cotswolds, the choir maintains a tradition of performing in rural areas, as well as making appearances at more familiar venues. Among The Carice Singers’ ongoing projects is a mini-series of recordings for Naxos featuring choral music by lesser-known British composers, including Peter Warlock, E.J. Moeran and Arnold Bax. 1 A Cradle Song 3 Laughing Song 5 Spring, the sweet Spring 7 Cupid Sleep, Sleep, beauty bright, When the green woods laugh with the voice of joy, Spring, the sweet Spring, is the year’s pleasant king; Why was Cupid a boy, Dreaming in the joys of night; And the dimpling stream runs laughing by; Then blooms each thing, then maids dance in a ring, And why a boy was he? Sleep, sleep; in thy sleep When the air does laugh with our merry wit, Cold doth not sting, the pretty birds do sing, He should have been a girl, Little sorrows sit and weep. And the green hill laughs with the noise of it; Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo! For aught that I can see.

Sweet babe, in thy face When the meadows laugh with lively green, The palm and may make country houses gay, For he shoots with his bow, Soft desires I can trace, And the grasshopper laughs in the merry scene; Lambs frisk and play, the shepherds pipe all day, And the girl shoots with her eye, Secret joys and secret smiles, When Mary and Susan and Emily And we hear aye birds tune this merry lay, And they both are merry and glad, Little pretty infant whiles. With their sweet round mouths sing “Ha ha he!” Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo! And laugh when we do cry. When the painted birds laugh in the shade, The fields breathe sweet, the daisies kiss our feet, Then to make Cupid a boy As thy softest limbs I feel Where our table with cherries and nuts is spread: Young lovers meet, old wives a-sunning sit, Was surely a woman’s plan; Smiles as of the morning steel Come live, and be merry, and join with me, In every street these tunes our ears do greet, For a boy never learns so much O’er thy cheek, and o’er thy breast To sing the sweet chorus of “Ha ha he!” Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-wta-woo! Till he has become a man. Where thy little heart doth rest. Spring! The sweet Spring! William Blake And then he’s so plex’d with cares, Oh the cunning wiles that creep Thomas Nashe (1567-1601) And wounded with arrowy smarts, In thy little heart asleep! 4 The Peaceful Western Wind That the whole business of his life When thy little heart doth wake, The peaceful western wind 6 When May is in his prime Is to pick out the heads of the darts. Then the dreadful night shall break. The winter storms hath tamed When May is in his prime, then may each heart rejoice, And Nature in each kind When May bedecks each branch with green, William Blake William Blake (1757-1827) The kind heart hath inflamed each bird strains forth his voice. The forward buds so sweetly breathe The lively sap creeps up into the blooming thorn, 8 Fain would I change that note 2 Weep you no more (Ireland) Out of their earthly bow’rs The flowers, which cold in prison kept, Fain would I change that note Weep you no more, sad fountains; That heav’n which views their pomp beneath now laugh the frost to scorn. To which fond Love hath charm’d me What need you flow so fast? Would fain be deck’d with flow’rs. All nature’s imps triumph which joyful May doth last, Long, long to sing by rote, Look how the snowy mountains When May is gone, of all the year the pleasant time is past. Fancying that that harm’d me: Heaven’s sun doth gently waste! See how the morning smiles Yet when this thought doth come But my sun’s heavenly eyes On her bright eastern hill May makes the cheerful hue, ‘Love is the perfect sum View not your weeping, And with soft steps beguiles May breeds and brings new blood, Of all delight!’ That now lies sleeping, Them that lie slumbering still! May marches throughout every limb, I have no other choice Softly now, softly lies The music loving birds are come May makes the merry mood. Either for pen or voice Sleeping. From cliffs and rocks unknown May pricketh tender hearts, their warbling notes to tune, To sing or write. To me the trees and briars bloom Full strange it is yet some we see do make their May in June. That late were overthrown. Thus things are strangely wrought while joyful May does last, O Love! they wrong thee much Sleep is a reconciling, When May is gone, of all the year the pleasant time is past. That say thy fruit is bitter, A rest that peace begets; What Saturn did destroy When thy rich fruit is such Doth not the sun rise smiling Love’s Queen revives again All you that live on earth, and have your May at will, As nothing can be sweeter. When fair at e’en he sets? And now her naked Boy Rejoice in May, as I do now, and use your May with skill. Fair house of joy and bliss, Rest you, then, rest, sad eyes! Doth in the fields remain Use May while that you may, for May has but his time, Where truest pleasure is, Melt not in weeping, When he such pleasing change doth view When all the fruit is gone it is too late the tree to climb. I do adore thee: While she lies sleeping, In ev’ry living thing Your liking and your lust is fresh while May doth last, I know thee what thou art, Softly now, softly lies As if the world were born anew Take May in time, I serve thee with my heart, Sleeping. To gratify the Spring. when May is gone the pleasant time is past. And fall before thee.

Anon., 16th Century Thomas Campion (1567-1620) Richard Edwardes (1525-1566) Tobias Hume (1579-1645) 9 Twilight Night These things – they are no dream – shall be % In praise of Neptune & The River-God’s Song We met hand to hand, For happier men when we are gone: Of Neptune’s empire let us sing, Do not fear to put thy feet We clasped hands close and fast, These golden days for them shall dawn, At whose command the waves obey; Naked in the river sweet; As close as oak and ivy stand Transcending aught we gaze upon. To whom the rivers tribute pay, Think not leech, or newt, or toad, But it is past; Down the high mountains sliding: Will bite thy foot, when thou hast trod; Come day, come night, day comes at last. John Addington Symonds (1840-1893) To whom the scaly nation yields Nor let the water, rising high, Homage for the crystal fields As thou wadest, make thee cry @ Immortality Wherein they dwell: We loosed hand from hand, And every sea-dog pays a gem And sob; but ever live with me, These fields, which now lie smiling in the sun, We parted face from face: Yearly out of his wat’ry cell And not a wave shall trouble thee! Each went his way to his own land Were tamed and schooled to harvest long ago To deck great Neptune’s diadem. At his own pace, By men whose lives, whose names, we cannot know, John Fletcher (1579-1625) Each went to fill his separate place. Who went in silence when their work was done. The Tritons dancing in a ring Before his palace gates do make * Spring, the sweet Spring If we should meet one day, Their furrows, slowly traced, their crops, hard-won, The water with their echoes quake, Spring, the sweet Spring, is the year’s pleasant king; If both should not forget, Have vanished like some ancient winter’s snow, Like the great thunder sounding: Then blooms each thing, then maids dance in a ring, We shall clasp hands the accustomed way, Their hearts, dispersed in dust, have ceased to glow, The sea-nymphs chant their accents shrill, Cold doth not sting, the pretty birds do sing, As when we met, Mere random bones declare their race is run. And the sirens, taught to kill Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo! So long ago, as I remember yet. With their sweet voice, And yet within the fields there lie in wait Make ev’ry echoing rock reply The palm and may make country houses gay, Unto their gentle murmuring noise Christina Rossetti (1830-1894) Strange virtues which to them, not us, belong, Lambs frisk and play, the shepherds pipe all day, The praise of Neptune’s empery. And as we plod behind the plough, which bares And we hear aye birds tune this merry lay, The gracious earth they wooed, we know the strong 0 These things shall be Thomas Campion Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo! These things shall be! A loftier race Compulsion laid by them on all their heirs, Than e’er the world hath known, shall rise, And cannot choose but plough our furrows straight. Songs of Springtime The fields breathe sweet, the daisies kiss our feet, With flame of freedom in their souls, Young lovers meet, old wives a-sunning sit, And light of science in their eyes. Henry P. Compton ^ Under the greenwood tree In every street these tunes our ears do greet, Under the greenwood tree Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo! They shall be gentle, brave and strong, # They told me, Heraclitus Who loves to lie with me, Spring! The sweet Spring! To spill no drop of blood, but dare They told me, Heraclitus, they told me you were dead, And turn his merry note All that may plant man’s lordship firm They brought me bitter news to hear and bitter tears to shed. Unto the sweet bird’s throat, Thomas Nashe On earth, and fire, and sea, and air. I wept as I remember’d how often you and I Come hither, come hither, come hither: Had tired the sun with talking and sent him down the sky. Here shall he see ( Love is a sickness Nation with nation, land with land, No enemy Love is a sickness full of woes, But winter and rough weather. In-armed shall live as comrades free; And now that thou art lying, my dear old Carian guest, All remedies refusing; A handful of grey ashes, long, long ago at rest, A plant that with most cutting grows, In every heart and brain shall throb Who doth ambition shun, Still are thy pleasant voices, thy nightingales awake; The pulse of one fraternity. And loves to live i’ the sun, Most barren with best using, For Death, he taketh all away, but them he cannot take. Seeking the food he eats, Why so? New arts shall bloom of loftier mould And pleas’d with what he gets, More we enjoy it, more it dies; And mightier music thrill the skies, William Cory (1823-1892) Come hither, come hither, come hither: If not enjoy’d, it sighing cries — And every life shall be a song, Here shall he see Heigh ho! When all the earth is paradise. No enemy But winter and rough weather.

William Shakespeare (1564-1616) Love is a torment of the mind, Nor care nor sorrow e’er paid debt, £ Blue-eyed Spring Sleep is a reconciling, A tempest everlasting; Nor never shall do mine; Now has the blue-eyed Spring A rest that peace begets; And Jove hath made it of a kind I have no cradle going yet, Sped dancing through the plain. Doth not the sun rise smiling Not well, nor full, nor fasting. Not I, by this good wine. Girls weave a daisy chain; When fair at e’en he sets? Why so? Boys race beside the sedge; Rest you, then, rest, sad eyes! No wife at home to send for me, Dust fills the blinding lane; Melt not in weeping, More we enjoy it, more it dies; No hogs are in my ground, May lies upon the hedge: While she lies sleeping, If not enjoy’d, it sighing cries — No suit at law to pay a fee; All creatures love the spring! Softly now, softly lies Heigh ho! Then round, old jockey, round! Sleeping. The clouds laugh on, and would Samuel Daniel (1562-1619) Shear sheep that have them, cry we still, Dance with us if they could; Anon., 16th Century But see that no man ‘scape The larks ascend and shrill; ) Sigh no more, ladies To drink of the sherry A woodpecker fills the wood; Phyllida and Corydon Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more, That makes us so merry, Jays laugh crossing the hill: ∞ Phyllida and Corydon Men were deceivers ever; And plump as the lusty grape. All creatures love the spring! One foot in sea and one on shore; In the merry month of May, In a morn by break of day, To one thing constant never. William Browne, of Tavistock (1590-1645) The lithe cloud-shadows chase Forth I walked by the woodside, Then sigh not so, Over the whole earth’s face, When as May was in his pride: But let them go, ™ To Daffodils And where winds ruffling veer There I spied all alone And be you blithe and bonny; Fair daffodils, we weep to see O’er wooded streams’ dark ways Phyllida and Corydon. Converting all your sounds of woe You haste away so soon; Mad fish upscudding steer: Much ado there was, God wot! Into Hey nonny, nonny. As yet the early-rising sun All creatures love the spring! He would love and she would not. Sing no more ditties, sing no more, Has not attain’d his noon. Of dumps so dull and heavy; Stay, stay Into the dairy cool She said, never man was true; The fraud of men was ever so Until the hasting day Run, girls, to drink thick cream! He said, none was false to you. Since summer first was leavy. Has run Race, boys, to where the stream He said, he had loved her long; Then sigh not so, But to the evensong, Winds through a rumbling pool, She said, Love should have no wrong. But let them go, And, having pray’d together, we And your bright bodies fling Corydon would kiss her then; And be you blithe and bonny; Will go with you along. Into the foaming cool! She said, maids must kiss no men Converting all your sounds of woe For we’ll enjoy our spring! Till they did for good and all. Into Hey nonny, nonny. We have short time to stay, as you, Then she made the shepherd call We have as short a spring; Robert Nichols (1893-1944) All the heav’ns to witness truth William Shakespeare As quick a growth to meet decay, Never loved a truer youth. As you, or anything. ¢ Weep you no more (Moeran) ¡ Good Wine We die, Weep you no more, sad fountains; Thus with many a pretty oath, Now that the Spring hath filled our veins As your hours do, and dry What need you flow so fast? Yea and nay, and faith and troth, With kind and active fire, Away, Look how the snowy mountains Such as silly shepherds use And made green liveries for the plains, Like to the summer’s rain, Heaven’s sun doth gently waste! When they will not love abuse. And every grove a choir; Or as the pearls of morning’s dew, But my sun’s heavenly eyes Love, which long hath been deluded, Ne’er to be found again. View not your weeping, Was with kisses sweet concluded; Sing we a song of merry glee, That now lies sleeping, And Phyllida with garlands gay, And Bacchus fill the bowl. Robert Herrick (1591-1674) Softly now, softly lies Was made the Lady of the May. Then here’s to thee! And thou to me Sleeping. And every thirsty soul. Nicholas Breton (1545-1626) § Beauty sat bathing by a spring Thou that art the Shepherds’ Queen, º The treasure of my heart ¤ Corydon, arise Beauty sat bathing by a spring, Look upon thy silly swain; Lock up, fairs lids, the treasure of my heart, Corydon, arise, my Corydon. Where fairest shades did hide her, By thy comfort have been seen Preserve those beams, this age’s only light. Titian shineth clear. The winds blew calm, the birds did sing, Dead men brought to life again To her sweet sense, sweet sleep, some ease impart, Who is it that calleth Corydon, The cool streams ran beside her. Her sense too weak to bear her spirit’s might. Who is it that I hear? My wanton thoughts enticed mine eye Nicholas Breton Phyllida, thy true love calleth thee, To see what was forbidden: And while, O sleep, thou closest up her sight, Arise then and keep thy flock with me. But better memory said Fie, • Phyllis inamorata Her light where love did forge his fairest dart, Phyllida, my true love, is it she? So vain desire was chidden. Come, be my valentine! O harbour all her parts in easeful plight, I come then and keep my flock with thee. I’ll gather eglantine, Let no strange dream make her fair body start. Hey nonny nonny. Cowslips and sops in wine Here are cherries ripe for my Corydon, With fragrant roses; But yet, O dream, if though wilt not depart, Eat them for my sake. Into a slumber then I fell, Down by thy Phyllis sit, In this rare subject from thy common right, Here’s my oaten pipe, my lovely one, And fond imagination She will white lilies get, But wilt thyself in such a seat delight, Sport for thee to make. Seemed to see, but could not tell And daffadillies fit Then take my shape and play and lover’s part: Here are threads, my true love, fine as silk, Her feature or her fashion. To make thee posies. Kiss her from me, and say unto her sprite, To knit thee a pair of stockings white as milk. But even as babes in dreams do smile Till her eyes shine, I live in darkest night. Here are reeds, my true love, fine and neat, And sometimes fall a-weeping, I bear, in sign of love, To make thee a bonnet to withstand the heat. So I awaked as wise that while A sparrow in my glove, Sir Philip Sidney (1554-1586) As when I fell a-sleeping. And in my breast a dove, I will gather flowers, my Corydon, This shall be all thine. ⁄ While she lies sleeping I will gather flowers to set in thy cap. Hey nonny nonny. Besides, of sheep a flock, Weep you no more, sad fountains; I will gather pears, my lovely one, Which yieldeth many a lock, What need you flow so fast? I will gather pears to put in thy lap. Anthony Munday (c. 1560-1633) And this shall be thy stock, Look how the snowy mountains I will buy thy true love garters gay, Come, be my valentine! Heaven’s sun doth gently waste! For Sundays, to wear about his legs so tall. ¶ On a hill there grows a flower But my sun’s heavenly eyes I will buy my true love yellow say, On a hill there grows a flower, Lancelot Andrewes (1555-1626) View not your weeping, For Sundays, to wear about her middle small. Fair befall the dainty sweet: That now lies sleeping, By that flower there is a Bower, ª Said I that Amaryllis Now softly lies sleeping. Yonder comes my mother, Corydon, Where the heavenly Muses meet. Said I that Amaryllis Whither shall I fly? In that Bower there is a chair, Was fairer than is Phyllis? Sleep is a reconciling, Under yonder beech, my lovely one, Fringed all about with gold, Upon my death I take it, A rest that peace begets; While she passes by. Where doth sit the fairest fair Sweet Phyll, I never spake it. Doth not the sun rise smiling Say to her thy true love was not here: That ever eye did yet behold. When fair at even her sets? Remember, tomorrow is another day. But if you think I did then, Rest you then, rest, sad eyes! Doubt me not, my true love, do not fear: It is Phyllis, fair and bright, Take me and hang me, Melt not in weeping, Farewell then, Heaven keep our loves always. She that is the shepherds’ joy, Yet let more and more love, While she lies sleeping, She that Venus did despite More love and beauty pang me. Now softly lies sleeping. Anon., 16th century And did blind her little boy. O fair eyes yet let me see Anon., 16th century Anon., 16th century One good look and I am gone; Look on me, for I am he, Thy poor silly Corydon. ‹ To meadows Ye have been fresh and green, But now we see none here Ye have been filled with flowers: Whose silvery feet did tread, And ye the walks have been And with dishevelled hair Where maids have spent their hours. Adorned this smoother mead.

Ye have beheld how they Like unthrifts, having spent With wicker arks did come Your stock, and needy grown, To kiss and bear away, You’re left here to lament The richer cowslips home. Your poor estates alone.

You’ve heard them sweetly sing, Robert Herrick And seen them in a round, Each virgin, like a spring, With honeysuckles crowned.

Artistic Director: George Parris

Trustees: Jeremy Dibble, Clare Finzi, John Graham-Hall, Daniel Grimley, David Hodges, David Owen Norris, Jeremy Summerly Soprano Alto Tenor Bass Emily Burnett Helena Cooke James Beddoe Will Ford Ellie Carnegie Brown Lucy Curzon Laurence Booth-Clibborn Tom Herring Elinor Cooper Natasha Cutler Oliver Clarke Tom Lowen Bethany Partridge Rosalind Isaacs Josh Cooter Hugo Popplewell Fleur Smith Sarah Maxted Toby Ward Rosie Parker Renowned for his outstanding piano miniatures and solo songs, John Ireland is little known these days as a composer of partsongs. His deep understanding of choral forces brings a unique polish and artistry to the genre, his early style reflecting a deference to his masters Parry and Stanford, and deeply moving post-war masterpieces such as Twilight Night exploiting a more acerbic harmonic vocabulary. E.J. Moeran’s inclination towards introspective melancholy blends with his knowledge of Elizabethan madrigal and renaissance dance, resulting in true gems on themes of love such as While she lies sleeping. John IRELAND (1879-1962) 1 A Cradle Song 2:34 8 Fain would I change that note 2:16 2 Weep you no more, sad fountains 2:07 9 Twilight Night 2:54 0 These things shall be 2:48 3 Laughing Song 1:00 ! The Hills 2:44 4 The Peaceful Western Wind 2:01 @ Immortality 3:47 5 Spring, the sweet Spring 1:39 # They told me, Heraclitus 2:45 6 When May is in his prime 2:56 $ Sea Fever (arr. Mansel Thomas) 2:40 7 Cupid 1:06 % In praise of Neptune 1:55 E.J. MOERAN (1892-1950) ^-™ Songs of Springtime 13:16 ¢ Weep you no more, sad fountains 2:05 £ The Blue-eyed Spring 1:06 ∞-‹ Phyllida and Corydon 26:06 David Owen Norris, Piano The Carice Singers • George Parris

A detailed track list can be found on page 2 of the booklet. The available sung texts can be found inside the booklet, and may also be accessed at www.naxos.com/libretti/573584.htm Recorded at St Michael and All Angels Church, Summertown, Oxford, from 3rd to 5th September, 2015 Producer and engineer: Michael Ponder • Booklet notes: Jeremy Dibble Academic advisors: Bruce Phillips, Barry Marsh, Jeremy Dibble The Carice Singers would like to thank the John Ireland Charitable Trust for their generous support. Cover: John Ireland and E.J. Moeran (Photographer unknown, original print from Lewis Foreman Collection)