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 |
Elizabeth Turner
(fl.1750 - 1756)
The heavy hours are almost past
(T.Vn.Continuo)
Score, part(s) and cover page (PDF), €0.00 for bundled copies Download this item(fl.1750 - 1756)
The heavy hours are almost past
(T.Vn.Continuo)
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 4
This work, Turner : The heavy hours are almost past : scoreid 148787, 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=148787. 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 Elizabeth Turner |
| Full Catalogue |
| About us | Help, privacy, cookies |
| About Elizabeth Turner |
| Full Catalogue |
| About us | Help, privacy, cookies |
Published in "Twelve Songs with Symphonies", London, c.1750.
Lyrics: Anon
The heavy hours are almost past,
That part my love and me;
My longing eyes may hope at last;
Their only wish, to see.
But how, my Delia, will you meet
The man you've lost so long?
Will love in all your pulses beat
And tremble on your tongue?
Will you in ev'ry look declare
Your heart is still the same,
And heal each idly anxious care
Our fears in absence frame?
Thus Delia, thus, I paint the scene,
When shortly we shall meet;
And try, what yet remains between
Of loit'ring time, to cheat.
But if the dream that sooths my mind
Shall false and groundless prove,
If I am doom'd at length to find
You have forgot to love;
All I of Venus ask is this:
No more to let us join,
But grant me here the flatt'ring bliss,
To die and think you mine.
The heavy hours are almost past,
That part my love and me;
My longing eyes may hope at last;
Their only wish, to see.
But how, my Delia, will you meet
The man you've lost so long?
Will love in all your pulses beat
And tremble on your tongue?
Will you in ev'ry look declare
Your heart is still the same,
And heal each idly anxious care
Our fears in absence frame?
Thus Delia, thus, I paint the scene,
When shortly we shall meet;
And try, what yet remains between
Of loit'ring time, to cheat.
But if the dream that sooths my mind
Shall false and groundless prove,
If I am doom'd at length to find
You have forgot to love;
All I of Venus ask is this:
No more to let us join,
But grant me here the flatt'ring bliss,
To die and think you mine.