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The harp the monarch minstrel swept

Language: English

The harp the monarch minstrel swept,
   The King of men, the loved of Heaven,
Which Music hallow'd while she wept
   O'er tones her heart of hearts had given,
   Redoubled be her tears, its chords are riven!
It soften'd men of iron mould,
   It gave them virtues not their own;
No ear so dull, no soul so cold,
   That felt not, fired not to the tone,
   Till David's lyre grew mightier than his throne!

It told the triumphs of our King,
   It wafted glory to our God;
It made our gladden'd valleys ring,
   The cedars bow, the mountains nod;
   Its sound aspired to heaven and there abode!
Since then, though heard on earth no more,
  Devotion and her daughter Love
Still bid the bursting spirit soar
   To sounds that seem as from above,
   In dreams that day's broad light can not remove.


Translation(s): FRE GER GER

List of language codes

Submitted by Emily Ezust [Administrator]

Authorship


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

Settings in other languages, adaptations, or excerpts:

Other available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):


Text added to the website: 2004-05-08.
Last modified: 2014-06-16 10:02:06
Line count: 20
Word count: 141

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Die Harfe hat des Gottgeliebten Hand

Language: German (Deutsch) after the English

Die Harfe hat des Gottgeliebten Hand,
Der königliche Sänger einst geschlagen!
Musik hat sie geheiligt und empfand
Bei ihrem Klang ein seelenvolles Klagen;
Ihr Schweigen wird nun doppelt schwer sie tragen!
Sie weckte selbst im eh'rnen Mann Gefühl, 
Lieh manche Tugend ihm, die er nicht kannte; 
Es war kein Ohr so stumpf, kein Herz so kühl, 
Das nicht bei ihrer Töne Klang entbrannte, 
Bis man sie mächt'ger als den Thron benannte.

Sie sang einst unsres Königs Sieg und Glanz,
Sie pries den Ewigen mit tausend Heilen,
Sie ließ sich drehn der Hügel bunten Kranz,
Die Cedern wanken und die Thäler eilen,
Gen Himmel schwebt ihr Ton, um dort zu weilen.
Auf Erden zwar verklang sie jedem Ohr,
Andacht mit ihrer Tochter Liebe schüren
Nur noch die Herzen an mit einem Chor
Von Tönen, Träumen, die vom Himmel rühren
Und die kein Licht des Tages kann entführen.


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Submitted by Emily Ezust [Administrator] and Sharon Krebs [Guest Editor]

Authorship


Based on

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


Text added to the website: 2011-05-22.
Last modified: 2018-10-10 06:08:45
Line count: 20
Word count: 146