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They bid me slight my Dermot dear

Language: English

They bid me slight my Dermot dear,
For he's of low degree,
While I my lady's maid am here,
And of the quality.
But if my mother would not grieve,
And if the truth were known,
Well-pleas'd would I this castle leave,
And live for him alone.

My lady, who is very kind,
To me will sometimes call,
And talk of love with scoffing mind,
And say 'tis folly all.
Ah! Words like these are finely said,
And may my lady please,
For she her own true love has wed,
And has her heart at ease.

Oh, never slight thy Dermot dear,
Tho' he's of low degree,
For thou thy lady's maid art here,
And of the quality.
For tho' thy mother haply grieve
When first the truth were known,
She'll bid thee not thy Dermot leave,
But live fro him alone.

I sit, my love, to think on thee,
Look o'er the Shannon wide,
And fancy I thy cabin see
The lofty elms beside.
The Shannon waves run very high,
The little boat I fear;
No more at night the passage try,
For winter now is here.

There's none like thee, - the king of all,
At funeral, and at fair;
My lord's fine man, hat's in the hall,
Can ne'er with thee compare.
Thy heart is true, thy heart is warm;
And so is mine to thee;
And would my Lord but give the farm,
How happy should we be!


Translation(s): GER

List of language codes

Submitted by Ferdinando Albeggiani

Authorship


Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive)

Available translations, adaptations, and transliterations (if applicable):

  • GER German (Deutsch) [singable] (G. Pertz) , title 1: "Von Dermot heißt man lassen mich"


Text added to the website: 2004-12-11.
Last modified: 2014-06-16 10:02:11
Line count: 40
Word count: 242

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Von Dermot heißt man lassen mich

Language: German (Deutsch) after the English

 Von Dermot heißt man lassen mich,
 Denn niedrig ist sein Rang,
 Da einer Lady Tochter ich
 Und edlem Blut entsprang.
 Doch trüge nicht die Mutter Weh
 Und dürfte Klarheit sein,
 Gern sagt' ich diesem Schloß ade
 Und lebte ihm allein.

 Die Mutter, die mich zärtlich liebt,
 Nimmt oft mich bei der Hand
 Und spricht, der Liebe Traum zerstiebt,
 Und schwört, 's ist alles Tand.
 Ach, solch ein Wort hört klug sich an
 Und deucht der Mutter gut,
 Denn die hat ihren lieben Mann,
 Und sorglos kreist ihr Blut.

 O Liebchen, lasse nicht von mir,
 Ob niedrig auch mein Rang,
 Ob du der lady Tochter hier,
 Die edlem Blut entsprang.
 Und trägt auch deine Mutter Weh,
 Wenn alles klar wird sein,
 Sie spricht zuletzt gerührt doch: "Geh,
 Und lebe ihm allein!"

 Hier sitz' ich, Lieb', und denke dein,
 Starr' in den Stromesschaum,
 Und seh' im Traum dein Fensterlein
 Am luft'gen Ulmenbaum,
 Des Shannons Wogen ziehn mit Macht
 Dein Schifflein, fürchte ich,
 komm nicht herüber mehr zur Nacht,
 denn Sturm tost winterlich.

 Wer gleicht, o aller König, dir
 Beim Leichenzug und Tanz?
 Des Vaters stolze Sippe hier
 Verbleicht vor deinem Glanz.
 Mein Herz ist treu, dein Herz ist warm,
 Und so ist meins zu dir:
 Und gäb' mein Vater nur die Farm,
 Wie glücklich lebten wir!


Submitted by Ferdinando Albeggiani

Authorship


Based on
  • a text in English by William Smyth (1765 - 1849), "They bid me slight my Dermot dear"
      • This text was set to music by the following composer(s): Ludwig van Beethoven. Go to the text.

Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive)

    [ None yet in the database ]


Text added to the website: 2004-12-11.
Last modified: 2014-06-16 10:02:11
Line count: 40
Word count: 215