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 |
William Horsley
(1774 - 1858)
Oh! Sad and watchful waits thy lover
(2S/2T.B.)
Full score (PDF), €0.30 for unlimited copies Buy this item(1774 - 1858)
Oh! Sad and watchful waits thy lover
(2S/2T.B.)
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.
Page 1 of 3
For licensing/copyright information please click here
| Enquire about this score |
| About William Horsley |
| Full Catalogue |
| About us | Help, privacy, cookies |
| About William Horsley |
| Full Catalogue |
| About us | Help, privacy, cookies |
Published London, 1801. The text is part of a madrigal from Mary Robinson's novel "Walsingham".
Lyrics: Mary Robinson
Oh! Sad and watchful waits thy lover,
Whose fate depends upon a smile,
Who counts the weary minutes over,
And chides his flutt'ring heart the while.
Who, as the zephyrs, softly blowing,
From drooping flow'rets shake the dew,
While down his cheek the tear is flowing,
Sweet rose of beauty! sighs for you.
Oh! proud and madd'ning is the pleasure,
When to my eyes thy form appears,
All dressed in Nature's winning treasure
Of blushing hopes and graceful fears.
And while our bosoms, wildly beating,
A thousand nameless raptures prove;
Our eyes, in speechless transport meeting,
Shall love to gaze, and gaze to love.
Oh! Sad and watchful waits thy lover,
Whose fate depends upon a smile,
Who counts the weary minutes over,
And chides his flutt'ring heart the while.
Who, as the zephyrs, softly blowing,
From drooping flow'rets shake the dew,
While down his cheek the tear is flowing,
Sweet rose of beauty! sighs for you.
Oh! proud and madd'ning is the pleasure,
When to my eyes thy form appears,
All dressed in Nature's winning treasure
Of blushing hopes and graceful fears.
And while our bosoms, wildly beating,
A thousand nameless raptures prove;
Our eyes, in speechless transport meeting,
Shall love to gaze, and gaze to love.