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Raynor Taylor
(1747 - 1825)
Beneath a shade by Wandle stream (reduced accompaniment)
(Song)
Score, part(s) and cover page (PDF), €0.00 for bundled copies Download this item(1747 - 1825)
Beneath a shade by Wandle stream (reduced accompaniment)
(Song)
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149298 : Taylor : Beneath a shade by Wandle stream (reduced accompa... : sheet music
Catalogued as Choral - Secular (Songs and Concert Airs)
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Publ. London, c.1774. An evocation of rusticity, set in Wandsworth.
Lyrics: Anon
Beneath a shade by Wandle stream,
When may perfumed the ground,
Young Colin lay, while with his theme
Fond echo bubbled round.
So sweet his soft complaint he sung
Of Daphne fair and coy;
The list'ning birds in silence hung,
To hear the rustic boy.
O Daphne, lovely maid! he cried,
For thee I hopeless pine;
Thou fairest flow'r of Wandle side,
In whom all sweets combine.
For thee I seek a lonely shade;
Thy name my song employ:
Which thou with scorn hath still repaid,
Deaf to thy rustic boy.
O can that form (ye shepherds say)
Contain a heart that's cold?
Not Phoebus shoots a brighter ray
When summer blooms unfold:
Yet with despair my blood she chills;
Her frowns my hopes destroy.
No pity for my plaints she feels,
Nor needs her rustic boy.
Alas! from yonder city vain
A fluttering youth appears.
His mimic woes and fancied pain
Deluded Daphne's ears!
Ah! turn thee from his artful tale;
Avoid the tinsel toy;
Nor e'er despise the humble vale
And me, thy rustic boy.
Beneath a shade by Wandle stream,
When may perfumed the ground,
Young Colin lay, while with his theme
Fond echo bubbled round.
So sweet his soft complaint he sung
Of Daphne fair and coy;
The list'ning birds in silence hung,
To hear the rustic boy.
O Daphne, lovely maid! he cried,
For thee I hopeless pine;
Thou fairest flow'r of Wandle side,
In whom all sweets combine.
For thee I seek a lonely shade;
Thy name my song employ:
Which thou with scorn hath still repaid,
Deaf to thy rustic boy.
O can that form (ye shepherds say)
Contain a heart that's cold?
Not Phoebus shoots a brighter ray
When summer blooms unfold:
Yet with despair my blood she chills;
Her frowns my hopes destroy.
No pity for my plaints she feels,
Nor needs her rustic boy.
Alas! from yonder city vain
A fluttering youth appears.
His mimic woes and fancied pain
Deluded Daphne's ears!
Ah! turn thee from his artful tale;
Avoid the tinsel toy;
Nor e'er despise the humble vale
And me, thy rustic boy.