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 |
Stephen Paxton
(1734 - 1787)
Make there my tomb
(A.T.T.B. + reduction)
Full score (PDF), €0.30 for unlimited copies Buy this item(1734 - 1787)
Make there my tomb
(A.T.T.B. + reduction)
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 7
For licensing/copyright information please click here
| Enquire about this score |
| About Stephen Paxton |
| Full Catalogue |
| About us | Help, privacy, cookies |
| About Stephen Paxton |
| Full Catalogue |
| About us | Help, privacy, cookies |
Between 1763 and 1794 Thomas Warren published, through differing publishers, an annual collection of catches, canons and glees, under the aegis of the Catch Club. This item was published in the twenty-fourth collection.
Lyrics: Charlotte Turner Smith
Make there my tomb beneath the lime-tree's shade,
Where grass and flow'rs in wild luxuriance wave.
Let no memorial mark where I am laid,
Or point to common eyes the lover's grave.
But oft at twilight morn or closing day,
The faithful friend with falt'ring step shall glide,
Tribute of fond regret by stealth to pay,
And sigh o'er th'unhappy suicide.
And sometimes, when the sun with parting rays
Gilds the long grass that hides my silent head,
The tear shall tremble in my Charlotte's eyes;
Dear precious drops, they shall embalm the dead.
Yes - Charlotte o'er the mournful spot shall weep,
Where her poor Werter and his sorrows sleep.
Make there my tomb beneath the lime-tree's shade,
Where grass and flow'rs in wild luxuriance wave.
Let no memorial mark where I am laid,
Or point to common eyes the lover's grave.
But oft at twilight morn or closing day,
The faithful friend with falt'ring step shall glide,
Tribute of fond regret by stealth to pay,
And sigh o'er th'unhappy suicide.
And sometimes, when the sun with parting rays
Gilds the long grass that hides my silent head,
The tear shall tremble in my Charlotte's eyes;
Dear precious drops, they shall embalm the dead.
Yes - Charlotte o'er the mournful spot shall weep,
Where her poor Werter and his sorrows sleep.