Lyrics from the Song-Books of the Elizabethan Age. Various

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Lyrics from the Song-Books of the Elizabethan Age - Various

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In 1611 appeared Byrd’s last work, “Psalms, Songs, and Sonnets.” The composer must have taken to heart the precepts set down by Sir Edward Dyer in “My mind to me a kingdom is,” (printed in “Psalms, Sonnets, and Songs”) for his dedicatory epistle and his address to the reader show him to have been a man who had laid up a large store of genial wisdom, upon which he could draw freely in the closing days of an honourable life. His earlier works had been well received, and in addressing “all true lovers of music” he knew that he could rely upon their cordial sympathy. “I am much encouraged,” he writes, “to commend to you these my last labours, for mine ultimum vale;” and then follows a piece of friendly counsel: “Only this I desire, that you will be as careful to hear them well expressed, as I have been both in the composing and correcting of them. Otherwise the best song that ever was made will seem harsh and unpleasant; for that the well expressing of them either by voices or instruments is the life of our labours, which is seldom or never well performed at the first singing or playing.”

      No musician of the Elizabethan age was more famous than John Dowland, whose “heavenly touch upon the lute” was commended in a well-known sonnet (long attributed to Shakespeare) by Richard Barnfield. Dowland was born at Westminster in 1562. At the age of twenty, or thereabouts, he started on his travels; and, after rambling through “the chiefest parts of France, a nation furnished with great variety of music,” he bent his course “towards the famous province of Germany,” where he found “both excellent masters and most honourable patrons of music.” In the course of his travels he visited Venice, Padua, Genoa, Ferrara, and Florence, gaining applause everywhere by his musical skill. On his return to England he took his degree at Oxford, as Bachelor of Music, in 1588. In 1597 he published “The First Book of Songs or Airs of four parts, with Tableture for the Lute.” Prefixed is a dedicatory epistle to Sir George Carey (second Lord Hunsdon), in which the composer alludes gracefully to the kindness he had received from Lady Elizabeth Carey, the patroness of Spenser. A “Second Book of Songs or Airs” was published in 1600, when the composer was at the Danish Court, serving as lutenist to King Christian the Fourth. The work was dedicated to the famous Countess of Bedford, whom Ben Jonson immortalized in a noble sonnet. From a curious address to the reader by George Eastland, the publisher, it would appear that in spite of Dowland’s high reputation the sale of his works was not very profitable. “If the consideration of mine own estate,” writes Eastland, “or the true worth of money, had prevailed with me above the desire of pleasing you and showing my love to my friends, these second labours of Master Dowland—whose very name is a large preface of commendation to the book—had for ever lain hid in darkness, or at the least frozen in a cold and foreign country.” The expenses of publication were heavy, but he consoled himself with the thought that his high-spirited enterprise would be appreciated by a select audience. In 1603 appeared “The Third and Last Book of Songs or Airs;” and, in 1612, when he was acting as lutenist to Lord Walden, Dowland issued his last work, “A Pilgrime’s Solace.” He is supposed to have died about 1615, leaving a son, Robert Dowland, who gained some fame as a composer. Modern critics have judged that Dowland’s music was somewhat overrated by his contemporaries, and that he is wanting in variety and originality. Whether these critics are right or wrong, it would be difficult to overrate the poetry. In attempting to select representative lyrics one is embarrassed by the wealth of material. The rich clusters of golden verse hang so temptingly that it is difficult to cease plucking when once we have begun.

      “Just beguiler,

       Kindest love yet only chastest,

       Royal in thy smooth denials,

       Frowning or demurely smiling,

       Still my pure delight.

      Let me view thee

       With thoughts and with eyes affected,

       And if then the flames do murmur,

       Quench them with thy virtue, charm them

      

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