 notAmos Performing Editions 1 Lansdown Place East, Bath BA1 5ET, UK +44 (0) 1225 316145 Performing editions of pre‑classical music with full preview/playback and instant download |
William Linley
(1771 - 1835)
O virgin pale
(A.T.T.B.)
Full score (PDF), €0.00 for unlimited copies Download this item(1771 - 1835)
O virgin pale
(A.T.T.B.)
Printable cover page (PDF), €0.00 for unlimited copies Download this item
If you have any problem obtaining a PDF, please see our help page. If that does not resolve the issue, please click here.
Click on the illustration to display a larger version
This work, Linley : O virgin pale : scoreid 148292, as published by notAmos Performing Editions, is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 4.0 International License. All relevant attributions should state its URL as https://www.notamos.co.uk/detail.php?scoreid=148292. Permissions beyond the scope of this licence may be available at https://www.notamos.co.uk/index.php?sheet=about.
| Enquire about this score |
| About William Linley |
| Full Catalogue |
| About us | Help, privacy, cookies |
| About William Linley |
| Full Catalogue |
| About us | Help, privacy, cookies |
c.1832.
Lyrics: Anon, probably the composer
O virgin pale, with anguish'd eye
(E'en mine are moist from sympathy),
Forbear your unavailing sighs.
For see, your wiser votaries
Nightly to me their homage pay,
To drown the real care of day.
'Tis better far my grape they borrow,
Better far than your imaginary sorrow.
See envy, love and jealousy,
Your slaves, their miscreant aid deny.
Thalia now, no longer coy,
With rapture courts the quick'ning joy;
Then quaff yourself the juice divine.
Come, let me woo and make thee mine.
Press'd to his glowing heart his arms
Seized and reviv'd her grief with charms.
Like the chill'd wretch the stormy deep
Escap'd, cherish'd, she sank to sleep.
The jolly god usurp'd her sway,
And threw the pois'nous draught away,
Hung rosy wreaths around her shrine,
And fill'd the deadly cup with wine.
O virgin pale, with anguish'd eye
(E'en mine are moist from sympathy),
Forbear your unavailing sighs.
For see, your wiser votaries
Nightly to me their homage pay,
To drown the real care of day.
'Tis better far my grape they borrow,
Better far than your imaginary sorrow.
See envy, love and jealousy,
Your slaves, their miscreant aid deny.
Thalia now, no longer coy,
With rapture courts the quick'ning joy;
Then quaff yourself the juice divine.
Come, let me woo and make thee mine.
Press'd to his glowing heart his arms
Seized and reviv'd her grief with charms.
Like the chill'd wretch the stormy deep
Escap'd, cherish'd, she sank to sleep.
The jolly god usurp'd her sway,
And threw the pois'nous draught away,
Hung rosy wreaths around her shrine,
And fill'd the deadly cup with wine.