THERE IS SWEET MUSIC Responsiveness to poetry is not, obviously, a trait exclusive to English composers any more than fondness for choral writing is, but it remains undeniable that some of the best English music has been inspired by English poetry—in which category must be included Cranmer’s “To the memory of Charles Villiers Stanford, and his Blue Bird”– Book of Common Prayer and the King James Bible. Ever since the time of Chaucer there has dedication in the score of Vaughan Williams’s Silence and Music (1953) been a strong tradition of English lyric poetry lending itself well to musical setting, and, after a period of eclipse, it was enthusiastically rediscovered by the composers of Elgar’s generation. Enough time has gone by for the school of English music represented on this recording to Between 1890 and 1950 there appeared a flood of solo and choral settings of English poetry, have become part of history. The chauvinistically exaggerated claims that used to be made unparalleled since the madrigal era three hundred years earlier. Predictably, much of this vast on its behalf are now no longer heard; equally, the English composers of the first half of output was of indifferent quality; but it is clear that, for example, Elgar took the writing of part- the twentieth century are not now berated or dismissed as often as they once were for songs as seriously as he did any of his larger-scale works, and the same could be said, to their ’provincialism’ and non-membership of the Second Viennese School. Partisan varying degrees, of his contemporaries and successors. The results achieved were generally, controversy has, thankfully, died down, leaving the music to be enjoyed on its own but not always, dependent on the calibre of the poetry set: a fine text such as Shakespeare’s distinctive merits. The cloud-capp‘d towers might be expected to call forth fine music (and Vaughan Williams’s In many ways, of course, it is misleading to speak of a ‘school’ of early twentieth-century setting is described by Michael Kennedy as ‘a perfect miniature masterpiece’) – but possibly English composers: Elgar would have acknowledged little affinity with Stanford, Britten even more remarkable is Stanford’s transformation of the frankly slight verse of The Blue Bird into less with Vaughan Williams—while Delius and Grainger, voluntarily exiled for much of their an exquisite jewel. (Andrew Lang, the poet of My love dwelt in a Northern land, was similarly lives in France and America respectively, worked in relative isolation. Yet there are at least fortunate to have his tiresome piece of Ossianic Gothickry immortalized by Elgar’s gravely two important threads connecting all these composers (and, arguably, most other English beautiful setting.) Britten’s varied and imaginative Five Flower Songs typify his care over choice composers down the ages): a love of the human voice, and of the choral medium in of words and his uncanny ability to match them to exactly appropriate music; and the same particular; and an intuitive responsiveness to poetry. must be said of Elgar’s There is sweet music. Here the other-worldliness of Tennyson’s lotus- There are good reasons for both these proclivities. Choral music has always been eaters’ paradise is symbolized by placing the female voices of the eight-part choir in the key of prominent in English musical life, partly, at least, because of the unique national network A flat, a semitone removed from the G major of the male voices. As the piece draws to a close, of cathedral choirs, which happened to enjoy a significant revival in the later nineteenth the music oscillates langorously between chords of A flat and G to the word ‘sleep’, a simple century thanks to the Oxford Movement. The amateur choral tradition, established in the but extraordinarily effective musical evocation. cities in the wake of the Industrial Revolution, was also gathering strength at about the time The rediscovery of English folk-song in the early 1900s by Vaughan Williams, Cecil Sharp and the generation of Elgar and Stanford was coming of age, and it is significant that both the others led to a steady flow of choral folk-song settings by composers great and small, and no Delius part-songs of 1917 and the Vaughan Williams Shakespeare Songs of 1951 were survey of English music of the period would be complete without some examples of this specifically written for amateur choirs to perform (the Delius pieces for Kennedy Scott’s charming and often misunderstood genre. To look for ’authenticity’ in such pieces as Grainger’s Oriana Choir, the Shakespeare Songs as test pieces for a competitive festival). Even Brigg Fair or Moeran’s The sailor and young Nancy is to miss the point: the melodies and (no , who outwardly rejected the ‘establishment’ world of English choral music, doubt bowdlerized) texts are no more than the points of departure for essentially original wrote with the utmost expertise and affection for choir (the Five Flower Songs were written compositions which, at their best, display qualities of inventiveness and mastery of choral as a silver wedding anniversary present for two friends, a touching revelation of unexpected writing that make them a delight to perform and to listen to. fondness for the part-song tradition. JOHN RUTTER 2 3 THERE IS SWEET MUSIC 11 *Londonderry Air (3' 25") Irish melody, English choral songs 1890–1950 arranged by Percy Grainger The Cambridge Singers • directed by John Rutter 12 †The three ravens (4' 52") Traditional ballad, arranged by Edward T. Chapman (1902–1981) Total playing time: 56' 20" Baritone solo: Nicholas Sears 13 *My sweetheart’s like Venus (1' 54") Welsh folk-song, 1 The blue bird (Op.119, No.3) (4' 01") arranged by G. Holst (1874–1934) C. V. Stanford (1852–1924) Words by Mary Coleridge 14 †The oak and the ash (3' 05") Old English air, Two Unaccompanied Partsongs (4' 34") arranged by Edward Bairstow (1874–1946) Frederick Delius (1862–1934) 15 Quick! we have but a second (0' 41") Irish air, 2 To be sung of a summer night on the water I (2' 16") arranged by C. V. Stanford 3 To be sung of a summer night on the water II (2' 18") Five Flower Songs (Op. 47) (11' 05") Tenor solo: Mark Padmore Benjamin Britten (1913–76) 4 There is sweet music (Op. 53, No.1) (5' 34") 16 (1.) To daffodils (1' 38") Words by Robert Herrick (1857–1934) Words by Tennyson 17 (2.) The succession of the four sweet months (2’ 04”) Words by Robert Herrick 5 My love dwelt in a Northern land (4' 21") 18 (3.) Marsh flowers (2' 32") Words by George Crabbe Edward Elgar Words by Andrew Lang 19 (4.) The evening primrose (2' 36") Words by John Clare Three Shakespeare Songs (6' 39") 20 (5.) Ballad of green broom (2' 15") Words anonymous R. Vaughan Williams (1872–1958) *included in Folk-songs for Choirs 1, edited by John Rutter (Oxford University Press) 6 (1.) Full fathom five (3' 20") Words from The Tempest †included in Folk-songs for Choirs 2, edited by John Rutter (Oxford University Press) 7 (2.) The cloud-capp’d towers (2' 18") Words from The Tempest The Cambridge Singers 8 (3.) Over hill, over dale (l' 01") Words from A Midsummer Night’s Dream Sopranos: Caroline Ashton, Donna Deam, Ruth Holton, Nicola-Jane Kemp, Celia Jackson, Folk-song arrangements Simone Mace, Jo Maggs, Mary Mure, Nancy-Jane Thompson, Clare Wallace. 9 †The sailor and young Nancy (3' 06") Norfolk folk-song, Altos: Nicola Barber, Alex Donaldson, Diana Hawker, Mary Hitch, Melanie Marshall, collected and arranged by E. J. Moeran (1894–1950) Susanna Spicer. Tenors: David Dunnett, Paul Gordon, Mark Padmore, Rory Phillips, Philip Sheffield, 10 †Brigg Fair (2' 57") Lincolnshire folk-song, collected and Jeremy Taylor, David Watson, Richard Wilson. arranged by Percy Grainger (1882–1961) Basses: Charles Gibbs, Nicholas Jones, James Mure, Charles Pott, Nicholas Sears, Tenor solo: Philip Sheffield Benjamin Thompson, Russell Watson. 4 5 Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell: 1 The blue bird (C. V. Stanford, 1852–1924) 5 My love dwelt in a Northern land 9 The sailor and young Nancy Hark! now I hear them, – ding-dong, bell. The lake lay blue below the hill. (Edward Elgar) (The Tempest, Act 1, Scene 2) (Norfolk folk-song, arr. E. J. Moeran) O'er it, as I looked, there flew My love dwelt in a Northern land, It was happy and delightful one midsummer's Across the waters, cold and still, A dim tower in a forest green morn, 7 (2.) The cloud-capp’d towers A bird whose wings were palest blue. Was his, and far away the sand When the fields and the meadows they were And gray wash of the waves were seen The cloud-capp’d towers, the gorgeous palaces, covered in corn, The sky above was blue at last, The woven forest-boughs between: The solemn temples, the great globe itself, And the blackbirds and thrushes sang on every The sky beneath me blue in blue. And through the Northern summer night Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve green tree, A moment, ere the bird had passed, The sunset slowly, slowly died away, And, like this insubstantial pageant faded, And the larks they sang melodious at the dawn It caught his image as he flew. And herds of strange deer, silver-white, Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff of the day. (Mary Coleridge, 1861–1907) Came gleaming through the forest gray, As dreams are made on, and our little life And fled like ghosts before the day. Is rounded with a sleep. Said the sailor to his true love, I am bound far (The Tempest, Act 4, Scene 1) 2 and 3 Two unaccompanied part-songs And oft, that month, we watch’d the moon away, (Frederick Delius, 1862–1934) Wax great and white o’er wood and lawn, I am bound for the East Indies. I no longer can And wane, with waning of the June, 8 (3.) Over hill, over dale stay, (These items are wordless.) Till, like a brand for battle drawn, Over hill, over dale, I am bound for the East Indies where the loud She fell, and flamed in a wild dawn. Thorough bush, thorough brier, cannons roar, 4 There is sweet music I know not if the forest green Over park, over pale, I am going to leave my Nancy, she’s the girl I (Edward Elgar, 1857–1934) Still girdles round that castle gray, Thorough flood, thorough fire, adore. I know not if the boughs between I do wander everywhere, There is sweet music here that softer falls The white deer vanish ere the day: Swifter than the moone’s sphere; A ring from his finger he then instantly drew, Than petals from blown roses on the grass, The grass above my love is green, And I serve the fairy queen, Saying, Take this, dearest Nancy, and my heart Or night-dews on still waters between walls His heart is colder than the clay. To dew her orbs upon the green: shall go too, Of shadowy granite, in a gleaming pass; (Andrew Lang, late 19th cent.) The cowslips tall her pensioners be; And while he embraced her tears from her eyes Music that gentlier on the spirit lies, In their gold coats spots you see; fell, Than tired eyelids upon tired eyes; Three Shakespeare Songs Those be rubies, fairy favours, Saying, May I go along with you? Oh, no, my Music that brings sweet sleep down from the In their freckles live their savours: love, fare you well. blissful skies, (R. Vaughan Williams, 1872–1958) I must go seek some dew-drops here, Here are cool mosses deep, Said the sailor to his true love, I no longer can stay, 6 (1.) Full fathom five And hang a pearl in every cowslip’s ear. And through the moss the ivies creep, (A Midsummer Night’s Dream, Act 2, Scene 2) For our topsails are hoisted and our anchor is And in the stream the long-leaved flowers weep, Full fathom five thy father lies; weighed, And from the craggy ledge the poppy hangs in Of his bones are coral made: Our ship she lays a-waiting for the next flowing sleep. Those are pearls that were his eyes: tide, (Alfred, Lord Tennyson, 1809–92: Nothing of him that doth fade, And if ever I return again I will make you my bride. from The Lotos-Eaters) But doth suffer a sea-change Into something rich and strange. 6 7 While sadly I roam I forget my dear home, 10 Brigg Fair 12 The three ravens 13 My sweetheart's like Venus Where lads and gay lasses are making the hay; (Lincolnshire folk-song, coll. (Traditional ballad, (Welsh folk-song, arr. G. Holst) and arr. Percy Grainger) arr. Edward T. Chapman) The merry bells ring, and the birds sweetly sing, My sweetheart’s like Venus, she’s lovely and And maidens and meadows are pleasant and It was on the fifth of August There were three rav’ns sat on a tree light, gay. The weather fine and fair, Down a down, hey down, hey down, She’s fairer than blackthorn, she’s slim and she’s Unto Brigg Fair I did repair, There were three rav’ns sat on a tree, white, No doubt did I please I could marry at ease; For love I was inclined. With a down, There’s no one is like her, from far or from near, Where maidens are fair many lovers will come; There were three rav’ns sat on a tree, It’s truth I am telling for all men to hear. But he whom I wed must be north-country bred, I rose up with the lark in the morning, They were as black as they might be. And carry me back to my north-country home. With my heart so full of glee, With a down derry, derry, derry down, down. Her form has the splendour of straight-growing Of thinking there to meet my dear, trees; 15 Quick! we have but a second Long time I’d wished to see. Then one of them said to his mate, Her hair like ripe corn that is stirr’d in the breeze, (Irish air, arr. C. V. Stanford) ‘O, where shall we our breakfast take?’ Her eyebrows like gossamer that hangs by the I took hold of her lily white hand, Down, down in yonder green field, door; Quick! we have but a second, O and merrily was her heart; There lies a knight slain ’neath his shield. If only she’d love me I’d ask nothing more. Fill round the cup while you may: And now we’re met together For Time, the churl, hath beckon’d, I hope we ne’er shall part.’ His hounds they lie down at his feet, My sweetheart she loves like a shower of rain, And we must away, away! So well do they their master keep, Now clouded, now weeping, now smiling again, For it’s meeting is a pleasure, His hawks they fly so eagerly But she who loves many is left without one, Grasp the pleasure that’s flying And parting is a grief, There’s no fowl that dare him come nigh. A faithful true lover has one love alone. For oh! not Orpheus’ strain But an unconstant lover (English translation: Steuart Wilson) Could keep sweet hours from dying Is worse than any thief. Down there comes a fallow doe, reprinted by kind permission of William Elkin Music Or charm them to life again. As great with young as she might go. Services on behalf of J. Curwen & Sons Ltd. The green leaves they shall wither She lifted up his bloody head, Then quick! we have but a second, Fill round the cup while you may, And the branches they shall die, And kissed his wounds that were so red. 14 The oak and the ash For Time, the churl, hath beckon’d, If ever I prove false to her, (Old English air, arr. Edward Bairstow) To the girl that loves me. She got him up upon her back, And we must away, away! A north-country maid up to London had stray’d, And carried him to earthen lake. Although with her nature it did not agree, 11 Londonderry air She buried him before the prime, See the glass, how it flushes, She wept and she sighed and she bitterly cried, (Irish melody, arr. Percy Grainger) She was dead herself ere evensong time. Like some young Hebe’s lip, ‘I wish once again in the north I could be.’ (This arrangement is wordless.) And half meets thine, and blushes Oh! the oak, and the ash, and the bonny ivy God send ev’ry gentleman, That thou should’st delay to sip. tree, Such hawks and hounds and such a loved one. They flourish at home in my own country. Shame, oh shame unto thee

8 9 So Johnny arose and slipp’d on his clothes If e’er thou see’st that day 19 (4.) The evening primrose 17 (2.) The succession of the four sweet And away to the wood to cut broom, green When a cup or lip shall woo thee, When once the sun sinks in the west, months broom, And turn untouch’d away. And dew-drops pearl the evening’s breast; First, April, she with mellow showers He sharpen’d his knives, and for once he Opens the way for early flowers; Almost as pale as moonbeams are, Then quick! we have but a second, contrives Then after her comes smiling May, Or its companionable star, Fill round the cup while you may, To cut a great bundle of broom, green broom. In a more rich and sweet array: The evening primrose opes anew For Time, the churl, hath beckon’d, Its delicate blossoms to the dew Next enters June, and brings us more When Johnny pass’d under a Lady’s fine house, And we must away, away! And, hermit-like, shunning the light, Gems, than those two, that went before: Pass’d under a Lady’s fine room, fine room, (Thomas Moore) Wastes its fair bloom upon the night; Then (lastly) July comes, and she She call’d to her maid: “Go fetch me,” she said, Who, blindfold to its fond caresses, More wealth brings in, than all those three. “Go fetch me the boy that sells broom, green Five Flower Songs Knows not the beauty he possesses. (Robert Herrick) broom, Thus it blooms on while night is by; (Benjamin Britten, 1913–1976) Go fetch me the boy!” 16 (1.) To Daffodils When day looks out with open eye, 18 (3.) Marsh flowers ’Bashed at the gaze it cannot shun, Fair daffodils, we weep to see When Johnny came into the Lady’s fine house, Here the strong mallow strikes her slimy root, It faints and withers and is gone. You haste away so soon; And stood in the Lady’s fine room, fine room, Here the dull night-shade hangs her deadly fruit; (John Clare, 1793–1864) As yet the early-rising sun “Young Johnny” she said, “Will you give up your On hills of dust the henbane’s faded green, Has not attained his noon. trade And pencil’d flower of sickly scent is seen; Stay, stay 20 (5.) Ballad of green broom And marry a lady in bloom, full bloom?” Until the hasting day *Here on its wiry stem, in rigid bloom, *Grows the salt lavender that lacks perfume. There was an old man lived out in the wood, Has run Johnny gave his consent, and to church they At the wall's base the fiery nettle springs, And his trade was a-cutting of broom, green But to evensong; both went, With fruit globose and fierce with poison’d stings; broom, And, having prayed together, we And he wedded the Lady in bloom, full bloom; In every chink delights the fern to grow, He had but one son without thought without Will go with you along. At market and fair, all folks do declare. With glossy leaf and tawny bloom below: good We have short time to stay as you, There’s none like the Boy that sold broom, *The few dull flowers that o’er the place are Who lay in his bed till ’twas noon, bright noon. We have as short a spring; green broom. spread As quick a growth to meet decay, The old man awoke one morning and spoke, (Anonymous) As you, or anything. *Partake the nature of their fenny bed. These, with our sea-weeds, rolling up and down, He swore he would fire the room, that room, We die If his John would not rise and open his eyes, As your hours do, and dry Form the contracted Flora of our town. (George Crabbe, 1754–1832. from The Borough) And away to the wood to cut broom, green Away broom. Like to the summer's rain; *These lines do not appear in Crabbe’s original text. Or as the pearls of morning's dew, Ne’er to be found again. (Robert Herrick, 1591–1674)

10 11 Recording produced by Jillian White Recorded in the Great Hall of University College School, London, by the BBC Transcription Unit, February 1986 Balance engineer: Campbell Hughes Digital editing: David Jacob Design: Rowie Christopher Cover picture: PhotoDisc Printed in Great Britain p 1986 Collegium Records © 2002 Collegium Records

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