Parlour Songs - recordings from 1900-1950	this page first published by John Wright, 16 February 2009 last update 30 April 2009 Please let me know what you think, e-mail vintage@jabw.demon.co.uk

	Hello, this is John Wright. I am currently 'broadcasting' an occasional programme of Parlour Songs and Poems from original 78rpm records from 1900-1950. Scroll down this page for the playlists, and download the programmes of music here: Download the 6th programme (30th April 2009) Download the 5th programme (2nd April 2009) Download the 4th programme Download the 3rd programme Download the 2nd programme Download the 1st programme		Check out my BLOG Sounds Like 78rpm I've recently worked with audio-restoration software Algorithmix Sound Rescue 3.0 to improve the sound from 78rpm records in my collection. Each file is ~16mins, ~16Mb, mp3 You can either Left-click to Play, may take 1 minute or more to start playing. or Right-click > Save target as, to save the file on your computer For more information on composers and artistes featured visit: Music Web International

Parlour Songs and Poems featured

Parlour Songs, programme No. 6 'Broadcast' 30/4/09 -

Eleanore Op. 36 No. 6 words by Eric Mackay (1851-1898) music by Samuel Coleridge-Taylor (1875 – 1912). Sung by Tudor Davies, in ~July 1926. The forest flowers are faded all, The winds complain, the snowflakes fall, Eleanore, Eleanore. I turn to thee as to a bower. Thou breathest beauty like a flower, Thou smilest like a happy hour. Eleanore, Eleanore. I turn to thee, I bless afar thy name, Which is my guiding star. Eleanore, Eleanore. And yet, ah God, when thou art here, I faint, I hold my breath for fear, Art thou some phantom wandering near? Eleanore, Eleanore. Oh take me to thy bosom fair, Oh cover me with thy golden hair. Eleanore, Eleanore. There let me lie when I am dead, Those morning beams about me spread. The glory of thy face o’erhead. Eleanore, Eleanore.

Samuel Coleridge-Taylor

Oh, could I but express in song. words by Grigori Lishi. music by Leonid Malashkin (1842-1902). Sung by Peter Dawson, in 1926, accompanied by Gerald Moore. The translation in English on the record beginning Oh could I in song tell my sorrow may be by Rosa Newmarch. The words below are from an English version by Juliet M. Soskice. Oh, could I but express in song The cruel depth of my suffering! The pain in thy sad heart would cease, The murmurings of doubt be stilled. And I, once I had sung my song, Could rest, beloved, and be at peace . . . And I, once I had sung my song, Could rest, beloved, and be at peace And yet didst thou but hear the strain Thy heart, thy heart would break

Peter Dawson

To Daisies words by Robert Herrick (1591-1674). music by Roger Quilter (1877-1953) Op. 8 To Julia and this is song no. 3 published in 1906. Sung by Frank Titterton, in 1924. Shut not so soon; the dull-eyed night Has not as yet begun To make a seizure on the light, Or to seal up the sun. No marigolds yet closed are; No shadows great appear; Nor doth the early shepherds' star Shine like a spangle here. Stay but till my Julia close Her life-begetting eye, And let the whole world then dispose Itself to live or die.

Roger Quilter

Kashmiri Song, from Indian Love Lyrics words from Garden of Kama, Four Indian Love Lyrics by Adela Florence Nicholson (as Laurence Hope) music by Amy Woodforde-Finden (published 1902). Sung by Peter Dawson, in 1926 (2nd verse is omitted) Pale hands I loved beside the Shalimar, Where are you now? Who lies beneath your spell? Whom do you lead on Rapture's roadway, far, Before you agonise them in farewell? Oh, pale dispensers of my Joys and Pains, Holding the doors of Heaven and of Hell, How the hot blood rushed wildly through the veins Beneath your touch, until you waved farewell. Pale hands, pink tipped, like Lotus buds that float On those cool waters where we used to dwell, I would have rather felt you round my throat, Crushing out life, than waving me farewell!

A Perfect Day words and music by Carrie Jacobs-Bond (1862-1946) published 1899. Sung by Muriel Brunskill, in May 1933. When you come to the end of a perfect day, And you sit alone with your thought, While the chimes ring out with a carol gay, For the joy that the day has brought, Do you think what the end of a perfect day Can mean to tired heart, When the sun goes down with a flaming ray, And the dear hearts have to part? Well, this is the end of a perfect day, Near the end of a journey, too, But it leaves a thought that is big and strong, With a wish that is kind and true. For mem'ry has painted this perfect day With colors that never fade, And we find at the end of a perfect day, The soul of a friend we've made.

Carrie Jacobs-Bond

Murmuring Breezes, from Op. 21 No.4. words and music by Adolph Jensen (1837 - 1879 ) published ? Translator not known. Sung by Leonard Gowings, in July 1926. ...........

Parlour Songs, programme No. 5 'Broadcast' 2/4/09 - 29/4/09

The Vagabond, from Songs Of Travel words by Robert Louis Stevenson music by Ralph Vaughan Williams, published 1904. Sung by Peter Dawson, in May 1923. Give to me the life I love, Let the lave go by me, Give the jolly heaven above And the byway nigh me. Bed in the bush with stars to see, Bread I dip in the river - There's the life for a man like me, There's the life for ever. Let the blow fall soon or late, Let what will be o'er me; Give the face of earth around And the road before me. Wealth I seek not, hope nor love, Nor a friend to know me; All I seek, the heaven above And the road below me. Or let autumn fall on me Where afield I linger, Silencing the bird on tree, Biting the blue finger. White as meal the frosty field - Warm the fireside haven - Not to autumn will I yield, Not to winter even! Let the blow fall soon or late, Let what will be o'er me; Give the face of earth around, And the road before me. Wealth I ask not, hope nor love, Nor a friend to know me; All I ask, the heaven above And the road below me.

Ralph Vaughan Williams

Less Than the Dust words from Garden of Kama, Four Indian Love Lyrics by Adela Florence Nicholson (as Laurence Hope) music by Amy Woodforde-Finden (published 1902). Sung by Foster Richardson, in April 1928. Less than the dust, beneath thy Chariot wheel, Less than the rust, that never stained thy Sword, Less than the trust thou hast in me, my Lord, Even less than these! Less than the weed, that grows beside thy door, Less than the speed of hours spent far from thee, Less than the need thou hast in life of me. Even less am I. Since I, my Lord, am nothing unto thee, See here thy Sword, I make it keen and bright, Love's last reward, Death, comes to me to-night, Farewell, Zahir-u-din.

Adela Florence Nicholson

Sailor's Song words by Lady Anne Hunter Music by Joseph Haydn (1795). Sung by Elisabeth Schumann, in 1945, accompanied by Gerald Moore, piano. High on the giddy bending mast The seaman furls the rending sail, And, fearless of the rushing blast, He careless whistles to the gale. Rattling ropes and rolling seas, Hurlyburly, hurlyburly, War nor death can him displease. The hostile foe his vessel seeks, High bounding o'er the raging main, The roaring cannon loudly speaks, 'Tis Britain's glory we maintain. Rattling ropes and rolling seas, Hurlyburly, hurlyburly, War nor death can him displease.

Joseph Haydn

Jeunesse words and music by Katherine Barry Sung by Walter Glynne, in April 1928. .........

Walter Glynne

Gruppe aus dem Tartarus, words by Friedrich Schiller, translation by Fox-Strangeways (?) Music by Franz Schubert (1817). Sung by Roy Henderson, in June 1926. (depicts the damned in the underworld, racked by pain, eyes empty with despair, hoping for an end to their torment.)

Franz Schubert

Parlour Songs, programme No. 4 'Broadcast' 19/03/09 - 1/04/09

Now Sleeps the Crimson Petal, Op.3 No.2 words by Alfred, Lord Tennyson from 1847, music by Roger Quilter (1877–1953) Sung by Gervase Elwes, in 1916. Now sleeps the crimson petal, now the white; Nor waves the cypress in the palace walk; Nor winks the gold fin in the porphyry font: The fire-fly wakens: waken thou with me. Now droops the milkwhite peacock like a ghost, And like a ghost she glimmers on to me. Now lies the Earth all Danaë to the stars, And all thy heart lies open unto me. Now slides the silent meteor on, and leaves A shining furrow, as thy thoughts in me. Now folds the lily all her sweetness up, And slips into the bosom of the lake: So fold thyself, my dearest, thou, and slip Into my bosom and be lost in me.

Gervase Elwes

The sun, whose rays are all ablaze from Mikado Act II, words and music by Gilbert & Sullivan. Sung by Miss Violet Essex, in 1917. The sun, whose rays are all ablaze With ever-living glory, Does not deny His majesty-- He scorns to tell a story! He don't exclaim, "I blush for shame, So kindly be indulgent." But, fierce and bold, In fiery gold, He glories all effulgent! I mean to rule the earth, as he the sky-- We really know our worth, the sun and I! Observe his flame, that placid dame, The moon's Celestial Highness; There's not a trace Upon her face Of diffidence or shyness: She borrows light That, through the night, Mankind may all acclaim her! And, truth to tell, She lights up well, So I, for one, don't blame her! Ah, pray make no mistake, We are not shy; We're very wide awake, The moon and I!

Gilbert & Sullivan

I heard you singing words by Harry Rodney Bennett (1890-1948) music by Eric Coates (1886-1957). Sung by Frank Titterton, in 1924. I heard you singing when the dawn was grey And silver dew on ev'ry blossom lay; Though the rising sun too soon drank up the dew, I thought I heard you singing all the long day through. I heard you singing in the silent hour When evening came with sleep for bird and flow'r; A song like happy murmuring of woodland streams, I thought I heard you singing down the vale of dreams. Beloved, when the last call echoes clear, And I must part from all that is so dear, I shall not fear the valley that before me lies, If I may hear you singing as I close my eyes.

Eric Coates

A Request, words William Mudford, (1782-1848) music by Amy Woodforde-Finden (1860-1919). Sung by Walter Widdop, in 1926. .

Walter Widdop

Parlour Songs, programme No. 3 'Broadcast' 05/03/09 - 18/03/09

Midnight Review words by Vasily Andreyevich Zhukovsky, (1783-1852) music by Glinka, 1836 Sung by Robert Easton, in May 1926. When midnight is striking and low Out of his grave steps the drummer And hastily goes to and fro As wildly he beats the Reveille.....

Robert Easton

Angels Guard Thee words and music by Benjamin Godard (1849-1895), from his opera Jocelyn Sung by Leonard Gowings, in 1926. Beneath the quiv'ring leaves, where shelter comes at last, All sadness sinks to rest, or glides into the past; Her sweet eyes prison'd now, in their soft silken bars, O! my love, calm she sleeps beneath the trembling stars. Ah! wake not yet from thy repose, A fair dream spirit hovers near thee, Weaving a web of gold and rose, Through dream land's happy isles to bear thee! Sleep, love, it is not yet the dawn, Angels guard thee, sweet love, til morn! Far from the noisy throng, by song birds lulled to rest, Where rock the branches high by breezes soft carres'd; Softly the days go on, By sorrow all unharm'd, Thus may life be to thee a sweet existence charm'd.

Leonard Gowings

Homing words by Arthur Leslie Salmon (1865-??) music (1917) by Teresa Del Riego (1876-1968). Sung by Muriel Brunskill in October 1926. All things come home at eventide, Like birds weary of their roaming, And I would hasten to thy side, Homing Oh! Dearest, I have wandered far, From day break to the twilight gloaming, I come back with the evening star,Homing. Thou art my hunger and my need, The goal and solace of my roaming, Be thou my haven when I speed, Homing.

Muriel Brunskill

Myself When Young words by Edward Fitzgerald (1809-1883) from the poem 'In A Persian Garden' translated from Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam (trans. 1859 rev. 1868) music by Liza Lehmann (1862-1918). Sung by Norman Allin (1884-1973), in 1923. Myself when young did eagerly frequent doctor and saint, and heard great argument about it and about: but evermore came out by the same door as in I went..

Liza Lehmann

Parlour Songs, programme No. 2 'Broadcast' 23/02/09 - 05/03/09

O Lovely Night words by Edward Teschemacher (1876-1940) from song-cycle "Summertime" (1901), and music by Landon Ronald (1901). Sung by Walter Glynne, in July 1926. O lovely night! Thou sweet and gentle maiden.

Landon Ronald

The Signpost, Der Wegweiser from song-cycle "Winterreisse" original words by Wilhelm Müller, translation by Fox-Strangeways (?) Music by Franz Schubert (1827). Sung by Roy Henderson, in June 1926. There's a road which I must follow Where no traveller e'er comes back

Roy Henderson

Woo Thou Thy Snowflake from Arthur Sullivan's opera Ivanhoe (1891) words by Julian Sturgis Sung by Arthur Fear, in 1929. Woo thou thy snowflake till she melt for thee; Another and a wilder bliss be mine! My lovely Jewess! Oh, she has drawn a spell about my heart And whelmed my soul with love!

Arthur Fear

She never told her love from William Shakespeare's Twelfth Night music by Joseph Haydn (1795). Sung by Elisabeth Schumann, accompanied by Gerald Moore, in 1945. Haydn's setting includes just these words: She never told her love, But let concealment, like a worm in the bud, Feed on her damask cheek......... She sat like Patience on a monument, Smiling at grief.........

Elisabeth Schumann

Parlour Songs, programme No. 1 'Broadcast' 16/02/09 - 23/02/09

She is far from the land poem by Thomas Moore (1779-1852) music written around 1897 by Frank Lambert (d. 1928). Sung by Edgar Coyle, in 1925. She is far from the land Where her young hero sleeps, And lovers are round her, sighing; But coldly she turns From their gaze, and weeps, For her heart in his grave is lying. She sings the wild songs Of her dear native plains, Ev'ry note which she loved awakening - Ah! little they think Who delight in her strains, How the heart of the Minstrel is breaking. He had lived for his love, For his country he died, They were all that to life Had entwined him - Nor soon shall the tears Of his country be dried, Nor long will his love stay behind him. Oh! make her a grave Where the sunbeams rest, When they promise a glorious morrow; They'll shine o'er her sleep Like a smile from the West, From her own loved island of sorrow.

Thomas Moore

Onaway, Awake Beloved poem from Hiawatha by Longfellow The music on the recording is by Frederic H Cowen (1852-1935), published 1892. Sung by Peter Dawson, in January 1927. Onaway! Awake, beloved! Thou the wild-flower of the forest! Thou the wild-bird of the prairie! Thou with eyes so soft and fawn-like! If thou only lookest at me, I am happy, I am happy, As the lilies of the prairie, When they feel the dew upon them! Sweet thy breath is as the fragrance Of the wild-flowers in the morning, As their fragrance is at evening, In the Moon when leaves are falling. Does not all the blood within me Leap to meet thee, leap to meet thee, As the springs to meet the sunshine, In the Moon when nights are brightest? Onaway! my heart sings to thee, Sings with joy when thou art near me, As the sighing, singing branches In the pleasant Moon of Strawberries! When thou art not pleased, beloved, Then my heart is sad and darkened, As the shining river darkens When the clouds drop shadows on it! When thou smilest, my beloved, Then my troubled heart is brightened, As in sunshine gleam the ripples That the cold wind makes in rivers. Smiles the earth, and smile the waters, Smile the cloudless skies above us, But I lose the way of smiling When thou art no longer near me! I myself, myself! behold me! Blood of my beating heart, behold me! Oh awake, awake, beloved! Onaway! awake, beloved!

Frederic Cowen

Mother O' Mine poem by Rudyard Kipling which was a dedication to his novel The Light That Failed (1891). The music is by Frank Tours (1877-1963). Sung by Francis Russell, in 1927. If I were hanged on the highest hill, Mother o’ mine, O mother o’ mine I know whose love would follow me still, Mother o’ mine, O mother o’ mine! If I were drowned in the deepest sea, Mother o’ mine, O mother o’ mine I know whose tears would come down to me, Mother o’ mine, O mother o’ mine! If I were damned of body and soul, I know whose prayers would make me whole, Mother o’ mine, 0 mother o’ mine!

Rudyard Kipling

Song Of Hybrias The Cretan poem by Thomas Campbell (1777-1844) The music is by JW Elliott (1833-1915) from or revised in 1897. Sung by Robert Easton, in 1927. My wealth's a burly spear and brand, And a right good shield of hides untann'd, Which on my arm I buckle: With these I plough, I reap, I sow, With these I make the sweet vintage flow, And all around me truckle. But your wights that take no pride to wield A massy spear and well-made shield, Nor joy to draw the sword: Oh, I bring those heartless, hapless drones, Down in a trice on their marrow-bones, To call me King and Lord.

Thomas Campbell

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