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James Oswald (arr.)
(1710 - 1769)
The Last Time I Came O'er the Moor
(Tenor,2 Violins,Continuo)
Score, part(s) and cover page (PDF), €0.00 for bundled copies Download this item(1710 - 1769)
The Last Time I Came O'er the Moor
(Tenor,2 Violins,Continuo)
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148658 : Oswald (arr.) : The Last Time I Came O'er the Moor : sheet music
Catalogued as Choral - Secular (Songs and Concert Airs) (Temple of Apollo)
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Published in Oswald's "Collection of the best old Scotch and English songs...dedicated to Her Royal Highness the Princess Dowager of Wales by James Oswald, Chamber Composer to his Majesty". Oswald's arrangement of a song published in Ramsay's Tea-Table Miscellany.
Lyrics: Allan Ramsay
The last time I came o'er the moor
I left my love behind me,
Ye pow'rs, what pain do I endure
When soft ideas mind me!
Soon as the ruddy morn display'd
The beaming day ensuing,
I met betimes my lovely maid
In fit retreats for wooing.
Beneath a cooling shade we lay,
Gazing and chastely sporting;
We kiss'd and promis'd time away,
Till night spread her black curtain.
I pitied all beneath the skies,
Ev'n kings, when she was nigh me;
In raptures I beheld her eyes,
Which could but ill deny me.
Should I be call'd where cannons roar,
Where mortal steel may wound me,
Or cast upon some foreign shore,
Where dangers may surround me;
Yet hopes again to see my love,
To feast on growing kisses,
Shall make my cares at distance move,
In prospect of such blisses.
In all my soul there's not one place
To let a rival enter;
Since she excels in ev'ry grace,
In her my love shall centre:
Sooner the seas shall cease to flow,
Their waves the Alps shall cover,
On Greenland ice shall roses grow,
Before I cease to love her.
The next time I go o'er the moor
She shall a lover find me;
And that my faith is firm and pure,
Though I left her behind me.
Then Hymen's sacred bands shall chain
My heart to her fair bosom;
Then while my being does remain,
My love more fresh shall blossom.
The last time I came o'er the moor
I left my love behind me,
Ye pow'rs, what pain do I endure
When soft ideas mind me!
Soon as the ruddy morn display'd
The beaming day ensuing,
I met betimes my lovely maid
In fit retreats for wooing.
Beneath a cooling shade we lay,
Gazing and chastely sporting;
We kiss'd and promis'd time away,
Till night spread her black curtain.
I pitied all beneath the skies,
Ev'n kings, when she was nigh me;
In raptures I beheld her eyes,
Which could but ill deny me.
Should I be call'd where cannons roar,
Where mortal steel may wound me,
Or cast upon some foreign shore,
Where dangers may surround me;
Yet hopes again to see my love,
To feast on growing kisses,
Shall make my cares at distance move,
In prospect of such blisses.
In all my soul there's not one place
To let a rival enter;
Since she excels in ev'ry grace,
In her my love shall centre:
Sooner the seas shall cease to flow,
Their waves the Alps shall cover,
On Greenland ice shall roses grow,
Before I cease to love her.
The next time I go o'er the moor
She shall a lover find me;
And that my faith is firm and pure,
Though I left her behind me.
Then Hymen's sacred bands shall chain
My heart to her fair bosom;
Then while my being does remain,
My love more fresh shall blossom.