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John Wall Callcott
(1766 - 1821)
Father of heroes
(A.T.T.B.B. + reduction)
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Father of heroes
(A.T.T.B.B. + reduction)
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This glee gained a Catch Club prize medal in 1792.
Lyrics: Ossian (James MacPherson)
Father of heroes, high dweller of eddying winds,
Where the dark red thunder marks the troubled clouds,
Open thou thy stormy halls; let the bards of old be near.
We sit at the rock, but there is no voice;
No light, but the meteor of fire.
O from the rock on the hill,
From the top of the windy steep,
O speak, ye ghosts of the dead.
O whither are ye gone to rest?
In what cave of the hill shall we find the departed?
No feeble voice is on the gale;
No answer half-drowned in the storm.
Father of heroes, the people bend before thee;
Thou tumblest the battle in the field of the brave.
Thy terrors pour the blast of death,
Thy tempests are before thy face.
But thy dwelling is calm; above the clouds,
The fields of thy rest are pleasant.
Father of heroes, high dweller of eddying winds,
Where the dark red thunder marks the troubled clouds,
Open thou thy stormy halls; let the bards of old be near.
We sit at the rock, but there is no voice;
No light, but the meteor of fire.
O from the rock on the hill,
From the top of the windy steep,
O speak, ye ghosts of the dead.
O whither are ye gone to rest?
In what cave of the hill shall we find the departed?
No feeble voice is on the gale;
No answer half-drowned in the storm.
Father of heroes, the people bend before thee;
Thou tumblest the battle in the field of the brave.
Thy terrors pour the blast of death,
Thy tempests are before thy face.
But thy dwelling is calm; above the clouds,
The fields of thy rest are pleasant.