notAmos Performing Editions 1 Lansdown Place East, Bath BA1 5ET, UK +44 (0) 1225 316145 Performing editions of pre‑classical music with full preview/playback and instant download |
Printable cover page (PDF), €0.00 for unlimited copies Download this item
If you have any problem obtaining a PDF, please see our help page. If that does not resolve the issue, please click here.
Click on the illustration to display a larger version
Page 1 of 8
This work, Greene : Go rose, my Chloe's bosom grace (arr. Earle) : scoreid 146260, as published by notAmos Performing Editions, is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 4.0 International License. All relevant attributions should state its URL as https://www.notamos.co.uk/detail.php?scoreid=146260. Permissions beyond the scope of this licence may be available at https://www.notamos.co.uk/index.php?sheet=about.
| Enquire about this score |
| About Maurice Greene |
| Full Catalogue |
| About us | Help, privacy, cookies |
| About Maurice Greene |
| Full Catalogue |
| About us | Help, privacy, cookies |
Earle was an aristocrat and philanthropist who lived much of his life in the Close, Salisbury. He was a keen amateur musician who wrote several well-crafted glees.
The current item, harmonized and arranged as a glee by Earle, is based upon a song composed by Maurice Greene.
The current item, harmonized and arranged as a glee by Earle, is based upon a song composed by Maurice Greene.
Lyrics: John Gay
Go rose, my Chloe's bosom grace,
How happy should I prove
Might I supply that envied place
With never-fading love;
There phoenix-like, beneath her eye,
Involved in fragrance burn and die.
Know, hapless flower, that thou shalt find
More fragrant roses there;
I see thy with'ring head reclined
With envy and despair.
One common fate we both must prove:
You die with envy, I with love.
Go rose, my Chloe's bosom grace,
How happy should I prove
Might I supply that envied place
With never-fading love;
There phoenix-like, beneath her eye,
Involved in fragrance burn and die.
Know, hapless flower, that thou shalt find
More fragrant roses there;
I see thy with'ring head reclined
With envy and despair.
One common fate we both must prove:
You die with envy, I with love.