Part 56 (1/2)

_No. 11 Waltz Chorus_

When the summer moon is beaming On the stirless waters dreaming, And the keen grey summits gleaming, Through a silver starry haze; In our homes to strains entrancing To the steps, the quickly glancing Steps of youths and maidens dancing, Maidens light of foot as fays.

Then the waltz, whose rhythmic paces Make melodious happy places, Brings a brightness to young faces, Brings a sweetness to the eyes.

Sounds that move us like enthralling Accents, where the runnel falling, Sends out flute-like voices calling, Where the sweet wild moss-bed lies.

_No. 12 Ballad--Tenor_

When twilight glides with ghostly tread Across the western heights, And in the east the hills are red With sunset's fading lights; Then music floats from cot and hall Where social circles met, By sweet Euterpe held in thrall-- Their daily cares forget.

What joy it is to watch the s.h.i.+ne That hallows beauty's face When woman sings the strains divine, Whose pa.s.sion floods the place!

Then how the thoughts and feelings rove At song's inspiring breath, In homes made beautiful by love, Or sanctified by death.

What visions come, what dreams arise, What Edens youth will limn, When leaning over her whose eyes Have sweetened life for him!

For while she sings and while she plays, And while her voice is low, His fancy paints diviner days Than any we can know.

_No. 13 Drinking Song (Men's voices only)_

But, hurrah! for the table that heavily groans With the good things that keep in the life: When we sing and we dance, and we drink to the tones That are masculine, thorough and blithe.

Good luck to us all! Over walnuts and wine We hear the rare songs that we know Are as brimful of mirth as the spring is of s.h.i.+ne, And as healthy and hearty, we trow.

Then our gla.s.ses we charge to the ring of the stave That the flush to our faces doth send; For though life is a thing that winds up with the grave, We'll be jolly, my boys, to the end.

Hurrah! Hurrah!

Yes, jolly, my boys, to the end!

_No. 14 Recitative--Ba.s.s_

When far from friends, and home, and all the things That bind a man to life, how dear to him Is any old familiar sound that takes Him back to spots where Love and Hope In past days used to wander hand in hand Across high-flowered meadows, and the paths Whose borders shared the beauty of the spring, And borrowed splendour from autumnal suns.

_No. 15 Chorus (The voices accompanied only by the violins playing_ ”Home, Sweet Home”.)

Then at sea, or in wild wood, Then ash.o.r.e or afloat, All the scenes of his childhood Come back at a note; At the turn of a ballad, At the tones of a song, Cometh Memory, pallid And speechless so long; And she points with her finger To phantom-like years, And loveth to linger In silence, in tears.

_No. 16 Solo--Ba.s.s_

In the yellow flame of evening sounds of music come and go, Through the noises of the river, and the drifting of the snow; In the yellow flame of evening, at the setting of the day, Sounds that lighten, fall, and lighten, flicker, faint, and fade away; What they are, behold, we know not, but their honey slakes and slays Half the want which whitens manhood in the stress of alien days.

Even as a wondrous woman, struck with love and great desire, Hast thou been to us, EUTERPE, half of tears and half of fire; But thy joy is swift and fitful, and a subtle sense of pain Sighs through thy melodious breathings, takes the rapture from thy strain.