Concert by Hutt Valley Choral Society

Radio Record, Volume II, Issue 9, 14 September 1928, Page 30

Concert by Hutt Valley Choral Society

-_-_- The Hutt Valley Choral Society was founded in 1928, and for three seasons was conducted .by Mr. Robert Parker, who resigned in 1926. The present conductor is Mr. E. Douglas Tayler. The society numbers about sixty voices, but. is prepared to increase its membership. The concert to be broadcast on Tuesday, September 18, is quite representative of the society’s present aims, inasmuch as it consists of a very varied selection of the finest choral music, both unaccompanied and ‘with orchestra; vocal solos and orchestral items. The vocalist will: be Mr. Harison Cook, well known as one of New Zealand’s leading baritones, and the instrumental part will be supplied by 2YA Orchestra, augmented. The outstanding choral item will be "Blest Pair of Sirens," a magnificent setting of Milton’s ode, "At a Solemn Music," by the English composer, Sir Hubert Parry. The words of the poem are printed elsewhere. This is one of the most dignified and beauty choral works of modern times, and bids fair to become a classic. The greater part of it is in eight-part harmony. Another item of special importance is Grieg’s ballad, "TLanderkennung" (Recognition of Land), for male chorus and orchestra, with baritone solo by Mr. Harison Cook. The ballad tells picturesquely of Olay Trygvason’s voyage

over the North Sea to recover his kingdom of Norway, from which he had been taken as an infant to save him from his enemies. There are also unaccompanied part-songs-grave,. gay, and sentimental-including Parry’s fine five-part motet, "Never Weather-beaten Sail," two dainty numbers by Lloyd and Stanford, the jocular "Song of the Pedlar" from — Shakespeare’s "Winter’s Tale,’ and MBrahms’s arrangement of the tender little German folk-song, "In Silent Night." Interest attaches to a new choral song called "My Land," by a New Zealand composer, Mr. A. A. Wedde, which will receive its first performance with orchestral accompaniment. It is a fine, broad melody, and breathes lofty aspiration and love of country. The words are by an anonymous poet. Mr. Harison Cook contributes two songs by Addison Price, and operatic selections from "The Magic Flute" and "The Merry Wives of Windsor." The orchestra will play Coleridge-Taylor’s popular ‘Petite Suite de Concert," and the concert will conclude with a rollicking set of old sea-chanties, arranged for chorus and orchestra, in the refrains of which radio listeners will be invited to join. The conductor will make a few explanatory remarks before certain of the items.

STTTHIR ' EITHBR

(By

C. H.

Lloyd

Hither! Hither! O, come hither, Lads and lassies, come and see, Trp it neatly, foot it featly G'er the grassy turf to me. Here are bowers hung with flowers, Richly curtained halls for you, Meads for rovers, shades for lovers, Violet beds and pillows, too. Purple heather you may gather, Sandal-deep in seas of bloom, Pale-faced lily, proud sweet-willy, Gorgeous rose and golden broom; Odorous blossoms for sweet bosoms, Garlands green to bind the hair, Crowns and kirtles weft of myrtles, Youth may choose, and Beauty wear. Brightsome glasses for bright faces Shine in every rill that flows, Ev'ry minute you look in it, Still more bright your beauty grows; Banks for sleeping, nooks for peeping, Glades for dancing smooth and fine, Fruits delicious for who wishes, Nectar, dew, and honey-wine. Hither! Hither! ete. -Osme’s song from "Sylvia," by George Darley (1795-1846). "SONG OF THE PEDLAR."

(By

Lee

Williams

‘Will you buy any tape Or lace for your cape, ‘My dainty duck, my dear-a? Will you buy any thread, Any toys for your head, Of the new’st and finest wear-a? Come. to the Pedlar; Money’s but a meddler That doth utter all men’s ware. r -Autolycus’s song from Shakespeare’s "Winter’s ale." "BLEST PAIR OF SIRENS."

(By

Parry

Blest pair of Sirens, pledges of Heaven's joy, Sphere-born harmonious sisters, Voice and Verse. Wed your divine sounds, and mixed power employ Dead things with inbreathed sense able to pierce; And to our high-raised fantasy present That undisturbed song of pure consent Aye sung before the sapphire-coloured throne To Him that sits thereon, With saintly shout and solemn jubilee, Where the bright seraphim, in burning row Their loud uplifted angel-trumpets blow, And the cherubie host in thousand choirs Touch their immortal harps of golden wires, With those just spirits that wear victorious palms, Hymns devout and holy psalms

Singing everlastingly : That we on earth, with undiscording voice May rightly answer that melodious noise; As once we did, till disproportioned sin Jarred against Nature’s chime, and with harsh din Broke the fair music that all creatures made To their great Lord, Whose love their motion swayed In perfect diapason, while they stood In first obedience, and their state of good. . « « O may we soon again renew that song , And keep in tune with Heaven, till God ere long To His celestial concert us unite, To live with Him, and sing in endless morn of light. : — At g Solemn Music," by John Milton. "MY LAND."

{By

A. A.

Wedde

Dear Land, that of all lands to me art the fairest, Land where the fern in its loveliness grows, Girt with the ocean and crowned with thy Snows, Richly thy beauty with me thou sharest, God-given bounty to me thou bearest. Fair Land that of ali lands to me art the dearest, Great is the joy that thy children may feel, Deep the devotion they owe to thy weal; While thy sons love thee, nothing thou fearest; God make our service bravest, sincerest. O Land of my home, I will love thee for ever, Live to thine honour and guard thee from wrong, Make thee yet fairer with labour and song; Loving thee truly, strong my endeavour, Onward and upward, failing thee never. -Anon. SNEVER WEHEATHER-BEATEN SAIL."

(By

Parry

Wever weather-beaten sail more willing bent to shore, Never tired pilgrim’s limbs affected slumber more Than my wearied sprite now longs to fly out of my troubled breast, © come quickly, sweetest Lord, and take my soul to rest. Bver blooming are the joys of Heaven’s high Paradise ; Cold age deafs not there our ears, nor vapour dims our eyes; Glory there the sun outshines, whose beams the blessed only seeO come quickly, ‘glorious Lord, and raise my sprite to Thee. o: -Thos. Campion, from "Songs of Farewell."

"IN SILENT NIGHT."

(arr.

Brahms

In silent night, with moonbeams white, J hear a voice despairing, The sighing breeze above the trees, Its plaintive murmur bearing; Ah, bitter woe, that none may know, My heart in pity weepeth, My tears bedew the flow’ret blue, That on my pathway sleepeth. The lady moon is hidden soon, In grief her beams concealing; The stars aglow, do fade and go, To realms supernal stealing. No song is heard, no waking bird. In gloomy forest crying; The night wind’s moan I hear alone, In answer to my sighing. "THE FAIRIBS."

(By

Stanford

They’re sleeping beneath the roses, O kiss them before they rise, And tickle their tiny noses, and sprinkle the dew on their eyes; Make haste! the fairies are caught! We'll put them in silver cages, and send them full dressed to court, And maids-of-honour and pages shall turn the poor things to sport. Be quick! be quicker than thought! Their scarfs shall be pennons for lancers, we'll tie up our fiowers with their curls, Their plumes will make fans for dancers, their tears shall be set with pearls. Be wise! make the most of the prize! They’ll seatter sweet scents by winking, with. sparks from under their feet, They’ll save us the trouble of thinking, their voices will sound so sweet. Oh, stay! They’re up and away! -William Cory. "RECOGNITION OF LAND."

(By

Grieg

Olav Trygvason (A. D., 964-1000) was taken from Norway as an infant to save him from his enemies. In manhood he returned as King to take possession of his Fatherland, into which he introduced Christianity; sailing across the North Sea from Britain, as here described. And it was Olav Trygvason, sailing o’er the ‘North Sea wide, remy Bearing the hope to found a kingdom far on fhe other side. i Yonder the cliffs appearing, like a battlement loom, their dark crest rearing. And it was Olay Trygvason, found he ne’er a spot to land;

Hen like the waves, the royal desire shattered upon the strand. See!" cried the bard, upleaping, "yonder snoweovered peaks o’er cloud-banks peeping!" And it was Olav Trygvason, suddenly he seemed . & to sight ering temples, domes and spires, glistening in ’ virgin white; Then vowed the king, undaunted, with his followers to tread that land enchanted. Onward he went; the rushing streams heralded the coming spring, Swayed in the stormy wind, the forest strangely was murmuring; Sounds as of church bells, chiming; and then spake the king-spake as though dreaming: "Here the spot to found our kingdom: Hell, these temple walls defy thee! Hearts are swelling, souls are yearning; God, to Thee alone be glory! Be, my faith, as yonder mountains; root as deeply, shine as purely; And as these my faith strive upward, on to Him, the All-Creator !" Olav’s prayer be ours to utter, as we near the throne of mercy; Hearts are swelling, souls are yearning; God, to Thee alone be glory! Be, my faith, as yonder mountains; root as deeply, shine as purely, And, as these, my soul shine upward, unto Him, the All-Creator! On to God! On to God! "OLD SHA-CHANTIES."

(arr. by

Bradford

and Hagge.)

(Note.-Words in brackets are repeated in subsequent verses, ) Haul on the bowlin’ The bully ship’s a-rollix (Haul on the bowlin’

Haul away, jo! Heave, heave her up, We'll either break or strand her, Away, haul away, Haul away, jo!) Haul on the bowlin’ The skipper he’s a-growlin’, ete. Haul on the bowlin’, The main-top-gallant’s howlin’, etc. I love my gal across the water (Weigh! aye! roll and go!) She’s good old Sal, yet Sally’s daughter. (Spend my money on Sally Brown! O Sally’s teeth are white and pearly, Weigh! aye! roll and go! Her eyes are blue, her hair is curly, Spend my money on Sally Brown.) For many years I courted Sally, She called me Boy, and Dilly-dally, ete. Where are you going to, my pretty maid? (Weigh, heigh-ho!) O where are you going to, my pretty maid? (We’re bound for the Rio Grande! Then away, heigh-ho, away heigh-ho! Sing fare you well, my bonny young girl, For we’re bound for the Rio Grande!) Jolly our ship and jolly our crew, O jolly our mate, our good skipper, too, ete, Walk her round, for we’re rolling homeward, (Heave, my boys, together!) The old bully ship is a-lying wind’ard, (Heave, my boys, away!) We're taut and trim and the wind’s a-blowing, Snug up aloft and the ship’s a-going. (Heave her, for we’ll strand her, and the old ship’s a-rolling home). Walk her round, for the wind a-blowing. Now heave her, boys, for the ship’s a-going; So blow, ye winds, for Bristol city Where the gals are fine and pretty, ete.

(Blow the man down, blow the man down), Weigh, heigh, blow the man down, Haul her up, we’re bound for to go. Give me some time to blow the man down.’ The mack’rel was singing "I’m king of the sea" (With a weigh, heigh, blow the man down.) Give her a pull, we’re bound for to go |. (Give me some time to blow the man down.) As I was a-walking down Rotherhithe Street (To my weigh, heigh, etc.) A pretty young girl I chanced for to meet, ete. We're all afloat in a very fine clipper, (Blow, boys, blow.) Taut and snug, a very fine ripper, (Blow, my bully boys, blow.) Haul, my lads, and haul her over, Give her a shake and bowl her over. Soon we'll be in London City, With the gals all dressed so pretty, Soon we'll hear the skipper shouting, "Grog, lads, grog!" for that we’re waiting. Shanadoah, I love your daughter (Away, ye rolling river!) Shanadoah, I long to hear you (Away we're bound to go ’ctoss the wide Mix souri.) Shanadoah, a gale is blowing. The anchor’s weighed and sheets a-flowing, Shanadoah, I'll ne’er forget you, Till I die I'll love you ever. © whisky killed my brother Tom, (O whiskly, Johnnie!) And [Pll drink whisky hot and strong {Then whisky for my Johnnie!) O, TU drink whisky all day long, Then haul her up and bowl along. AS we scud o’er the waters blue, A good old pull and strong and true; For ’tis a wind the sailors love, It blows the royals out above.