SEA PICTURES (Op. 37) Sir Edward Elgar
(1857-1934)
The song cycle,
Sea Pictures was written contemporary to Elgar’s
more famous Enigma Variations at a time when the composing career of the
41 year old was at last taking off to make him the foremost British composer.
Sea Pictures was first
performed at the Norwich Festival in 1899.
The five songs in the cycle all characterize varying moods of the sea. The first song “Sea Slumber Song” evokes a
brooding nocturnal seascape. The second
song “In Haven (
1. Sea Slumber Song
Sea-birds
are asleep,
The
world forgets to weep,
Sea
murmurs her soft slumber-song
On
the shadowy sand
Of
this elfin land;
I,
the Mother mild,
Hush
thee, oh my child,
Forget
the voices wild!
Isles
in elfin light
Dream,
the rocks and caves,
Lulled
by whispering waves,
Veil
their marbles bright
Foam
glimmers faintly white
Upon
the shelly sand
Of
this elfin land;
Sea-sound,
like violins,
To
slumber woos and wins,
I
murmur my soft slumber-song,
Leave
woes, and wails, and sins.
Ocean's
shadowy night
Breathes
good night,
Good
night...
Roden Noel
(1834-1894)
2. In Haven (
Closely
let me hold thy hand,
Storms
are sweeping sea and land;
Love alone will stand.
Closely
cling, for waves beat fast,
Foam-flakes
cloud the hurrying blast;
Love alone will last.
Kiss
my lips, and softly say:
“Joy,
sea-swept, may fade to-day;
Love alone will stay.”
Caroline Alice Elgar
(1848-1920)
3.
Sabbath Morning at Sea
The ship went on with solemn
face;
To
meet the darkness on the deep,
The
solemn ship went onward.
I
bowed down weary in the place;
For
parting tears and present sleep
Had weighed mine eyelids
downward.
The
new sight, the new wondrous sight!
The
waters around me, turbulent,
The
skies, impassive o'er me,
Calm
in a moonless, sunless light,
As
glorified by even the intent
Of holding the day glory!
Love
me, sweet friends, this sabbath
day.
The
sea sings round me while ye roll
Afar
the hymn, unaltered,
And
kneel, where once I knelt to pray,
And
bless me deeper in your soul
Because your
voice has faltered.
And
though this sabbath comes to
me
Without
the stolèd minister,
And
chanting congregation,
God's
Spirit shall give comfort he
Who
brooded soft on waters drear,
Creator on
creation.
He
shall assist me to look higher,
Where
keep the saints, with harp and song,
An
endless sabbath morning,
And
that sea commixed with fire,
Oft
drop their eyelids raised too long
To the full
Godhead's burning.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning (1806-1861)
4. Where Corals
Lie
The
deeps have music soft and low
When
winds awake the airy spry,
It
lures me, lures me on to go
And see the land where
corals lie.
By
mount and mead, by lawn and rill,
When
night is deep, and moon is high,
That
music seeks and finds me still,
And tells me where the
corals lie.
Yes,
press my eyelids close, 'tis well,
But
far the rapid fancies fly
The
rolling worlds of wave and shell,
And all the
lands where corals lie.
Thy
lips are like a sunset glow,
Thy
smile is like a morning sky,
Yet
leave me, leave me, let me go
And see the land where
corals lie.
Richard Garnett (1835-1906)
5. The Swimmer
With
short, sharp violent lights made vivid,
To
southward far as the sight can roam,
Only
the swirl of the surges livid,
The sees that climb and the surfs that comb.
Only
the crag and the cliff to nor'ward,
And
the rocks receding, and reefs flung forward,
Waifs
wreck'd seaward and wasted shoreward,
On shallows sheeted with
flaming foam.
A
grim, gray coast and a seaboard ghastly,
And
shores trod seldom by feet of men -
Where
the batter'd hull and the broken mast lie,
They
have lain embedded these long years ten.
Love! Love! when we
wandered here together,
Hand
in hand! Hand in hand through the sparkling weather,
From
the heights and hollows of fern and heather,
God surely loved us a
little then.
The
skies were fairer and shores were firmer -
The
blue sea over the bright sand roll'd;
Babble
and prattle, and ripple and murmur,
Sheen of silver
and glamour of gold.
So,
girt with tempest and wing'd with thunder
And
clad with lightning and shod with sleet,
And
strong winds treading the swift waves under
The flying rollers with frothy feet.
One
gleam like a bloodshot sword-blade swims on.
The
sky line, staining the green gulf crimson,
A
death-stroke fiercely dealt by a dim sun
That strikes through his
stormy winding sheet.
O
brave white horses! you gather and gallop,
The
storm sprite loosens the gusty reins;
Now
the stoutest ship were the frailest shallop
In your hollow backs, on your high-arched manes.
I
would ride as never a man has ridden
In
your sleepy, swirling surges hidden;
To
gulfs foreshadow'd through strifes
forbidden,
Where no light wearies and
no love wanes.
Adam
Lindsay Gordon (1833-1870)
Programme notes by Jonathan Hodgetts
www.SalisburySymphonyOrchestra.org.uk