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Franz Joseph Haydn (arr.)
(1732 - 1809)
Dauntless sons of Celtic sires (Men of Harlech)
(Soprano/Tenor,Violin,'Cello,Keyboard)
Score, part(s) and cover page (PDF), €0.00 for bundled copies Download this item(1732 - 1809)
Dauntless sons of Celtic sires (Men of Harlech)
(Soprano/Tenor,Violin,'Cello,Keyboard)
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149360 : Haydn (arr.) : Dauntless sons of Celtic sires (Men of Harl... : sheet music
Catalogued as Choral - Secular (Songs and Concert Airs)
An arrangement commissioned and published, 1809, by Edinburgh publisher G. Thompson, as part of his project to drag folk music into the nineteenth century. The text was specially written by Alexander Boswell of Auchinleck (the son of James Boswell, Johnson's biographer). Pre-dating any other known text (English or Welsh) by some twenty years, it established the tone of braggadocio copied innumerable times thereafter.
Lyrics: Sir Alexander Boswell, Bart.
Dauntless sons of Celtic sires,
Whose souls the love of freedom fires;
Hark! ev'ry harp to war inspires
On Cader Idris side.
See the brave advancing,
See the brave advancing!
Each well-tried spear, which Saxons fear,
In warlike splendour glancing!
Proud Harlech, from her frowning tow'rs,
Pours forth her never-failing pow'rs:
Rouse, heroes, glory shall be ours;
March on, your country's pride!
Shall heart-rending sounds of woe
Be heard where Conway's waters flow?
Or shall a rude and ruthless foe
Find here one willing slave?
From mountain and from valley,
From mountain and from valley,
From Snowdon, from Plinlimmon's brow,
Around your prince ye rally.
Let cowards kiss th'oppressor's scourge;
Home to his part your weapons urge;
Or whelm him in th'avenging surge:
To victory, ye brave!
Dauntless sons of Celtic sires,
Whose souls the love of freedom fires;
Hark! ev'ry harp to war inspires
On Cader Idris side.
See the brave advancing,
See the brave advancing!
Each well-tried spear, which Saxons fear,
In warlike splendour glancing!
Proud Harlech, from her frowning tow'rs,
Pours forth her never-failing pow'rs:
Rouse, heroes, glory shall be ours;
March on, your country's pride!
Shall heart-rending sounds of woe
Be heard where Conway's waters flow?
Or shall a rude and ruthless foe
Find here one willing slave?
From mountain and from valley,
From mountain and from valley,
From Snowdon, from Plinlimmon's brow,
Around your prince ye rally.
Let cowards kiss th'oppressor's scourge;
Home to his part your weapons urge;
Or whelm him in th'avenging surge:
To victory, ye brave!