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Wuthering Heights

Song Cycle by Terry Fisk

SCENE ONE

Temporary refugee from city society, Lockwood, hires property, Thrushcross Grange, in an isolated area of North Yorkshire England. His first visit [1] to the owner of the property, a Mr Heathcliff, is less then welcoming and he begins to have doubts [2] about his decision to live in such a forsaken and unfriendly environment.

"I've just been to see my landlord Mr Heathcliff"

1.
 (Sung text)

Language: English 
I paused on the threshold
I turned to the sky
I looked to the heavens
And the dark mountains round

The full moon shone bright
Through that ocean on high
And the wind murmured past
With a wild eerie sound

And I entered the walls
Of my dark prison house
Mysterious it rose
From the billowy moor

Text Authorship:

  • by Emily Brontë (1818 - 1848), no title

Go to the general single-text view

Note: in the Fisk work, this is sung by Lockwood
Researcher for this page: Terry Fisk

2.
 (Sung text)

Language: English 
Stern reason is to judgment come
Arrayed in all her forms of gloom
Will thou my advocate be dumb?

Speak and say
Why I did cast the world away
Why I have preserved to shun
The common paths that others run

And on a strange road journeyed on
Heedless alike of wealth and power
Of honours wreath and pleasures flower..

Speak and say
Why I have chosen
here

Text Authorship:

  • by Terry Fisk [an adaptation]

Based on:

  • a text in English by Emily Brontë (1818 - 1848), "Plead For Me", appears in Poems by Currer, Ellis, and Acton Bell, first published 1846
    • Go to the text page.

Go to the general single-text view

Note: in the Fisk work, this is sung by Lockwood
Note: Fisk has made substantial omissions from the original text
Researcher for this page: Terry Fisk

SCENE TWO

A visit to his landlords property, Wuthering Heights, the next day results in a forced overnight stay due to bad weather conditions. Lockwood is smuggled into an unused room by the cook, Zillith. Later that night he hears strange noises [3] and then is terrified by the ghostly appearance of a young girl, Catherine Earnshaw [4 ] the deceased daughter of the original owner of the house.The ghost seems to be searching for someone [5]. Heathcliff is highly agitated on hearing of the ghosts appearance and calls out to it [6]

"While leading the way upstairs she recommended that I should hide the candle and not make a noise, for her master had an odd notion about the chamber she would put me in and would never let anyone lodge there willingly"

3.
 (Sung text)

Language: English 
All hushed and still within the house
Without - all storm and driving wind.
But something whispers to my mind
Through snow and storm and wailing wind -

- Never again,
Never again? Why not again?
Memory has power as real as time.

Text Authorship:

  • by Emily Brontë (1818 - 1848), no title, from The Complete Poems of Emily Brontë, first published 1910

See other settings of this text.

Note: in the Fisk work, this is sung by Lockwood
Researcher for this page: Terry Fisk

"My fingers closed on the fingers of a little ice cold hand"

4.
 (Sung text)

Language: English 
 ... 
What woke?
A little child
Strayed from its father's
cottage door
And in the hour of moonlight
Lay lonely on the desert moor

I heard it
- a shriek of misery
That wild wild music
Wailed to me

Text Authorship:

  • by Emily Brontë (1818 - 1848), "Redbreast early in the morning"

Go to the general single-text view

Note: In the Fisk work, this is sung by Lockwood
Note: Fisk has made substantial omissions to the original text
Researcher for this page: Terry Fisk

"Let me in let me in.. It is twenty years," mourned the voice. "I've been a waif for twenty years."

5.
 (Sung text)

Language: English 
I did not sleep twas noon of day
I watched the burning sunshine fall..
The long grass bending where I lay
The blue sky brooding over all

I heard the mellow hum of bees
And singing birds and sighing trees
And far away in woody dell
The music of the Sabbath bell

I did not dream remembrance still
Clasped round my heart its fetters chill
But I am sure the soul is free
To leave its clay a little while
Or how in exile misery
Could I have seen my county smile

In ancient fields my limbs were laid
With ancient turf beneath my head
My spirit wandered o'er that shore
Where nought but it may wander more

Yet if the soul can thus return
I need not and I will not mourn.
The mortal flesh you might debar
But not the eternal fire within.
 ... 

A heart that can forget him never
Thought shut within a sighing tomb
His name shall be for whom I bear
This long sustained and hopeless doom

And brighter in the hour of woe
Than in the blaze of victory's pride
That glory shedding star shall glow
For which we fought and bled and died.

Text Authorship:

  • by Emily Brontë (1818 - 1848), no title

Go to the general single-text view

Note: In the Fisk work, this is sung by Catherine
Researcher for this page: Terry Fisk

"Come in ! come in!" he sobbed. "Cathy, do come - Oh do. Once more. Oh! My hearts darling! Hear me this time, Catherine, at last!"

6.
 (Sung text)

Language: English 
If grief for grief can touch thee
If answering woe for woe
If any ruth can melt thee
Come to me now

I cannot be more lonely
More drear I cannot be
My worn heart throbs so wildly
'Twill break for thee

And when the world despises
When heaven repels my prayer
Will not my angel comfort?
Mine idol hear?

Yes by the tears I've poured
By all my hours of pain
Oh I will surely win thee
Beloved, again

Text Authorship:

  • by Emily Brontë (1818 - 1848), no title, appears in Poems by Charlotte, Emily, and Anne Brontë Now for the First Time Printed, first published 1902

See other settings of this text.

Note: in the Fisk work, this is sung by Heathcliff
Researcher for this page: Terry Fisk

SCENE THREE

The next night Lockwoods housekeeper,

Nelly Dean, an ex servant of the Heights, agrees to tell Lockwood the history of the house he has just escaped [7]. It seems that 20 years before, the original owner of the property. Mr Earnshaw, while on a visit to Liverpool found a street child whom he took pity on [8] and brought home, much to the displeasure of his own children, Catherine and Hindley. Catherine however grew fond of the newcomer [9] now called Heathcliff . Hindley was sent away to college for three years and the friendship between Catherine and Heathcliff deepened. Following the death of his father, Hindley returned for the funeral with a wife, Francis. He settled into manage the property but regularly maltreated Heathcliff.. The only solace the boy had was comforting by Catherine [10]

"Do you know anything of his history?... It is a cuckoo's sir. I know all about it except where he was born and who were his parents..."

7.
 (Sung text)

Language: English 
Well, narrower draw the circle round
And hush that scornful solemn sound
And quench the lamp and stir the fire
To rouse its flickering radiance higher

Loop up the window's velvet veil
That we may hear the night-wind wail
For wild those gusts and well their chimes
Blend with a song of troubled times

Text Authorship:

  • by Emily Brontë (1818 - 1848), no title

Go to the general single-text view

Note: in the Fisk work, this is sung by Nelly
Researcher for this page: Terry Fisk

"All I could make out was a tale of his seeing it starving and houseless and as good as dumb in the streets of Liverpool."

8.
 (Sung text)

Language: English 
Heavy hangs the raindrop
From the burdened spray
Heavy broods the damp mist
On uplands far away

Heavy looms the dull sky
Heavy rolls the sea
And heavy beats the young heart
Beneath that lonely tree

Never has a blue streak
Cleft the clouds since morn
Never has his grim fate
Smiled since he was born

Frowning on the infant,
Shadowing childhood's joy
Guardian angel knows not
That melancholy boy

Day is passing swiftly
Its sad and sombre prime
Youth is fast invading
Sterner manhood's' time

All the flowers are praying
For sun before they close
And he prays too unknowing
That sunless human rose

Blossoms that the west-wind
Has never wooed to blow
Scentless are thy petals
Your dew as cold as snow

Soul, where kindred kindness
No early promise woke
Barren is your beauty
As weed upon the rock

Whither brother whither
Your life was vainly given
Earth reserves no blessing
For the unblessed of heaven

Text Authorship:

  • by Emily Brontë (1818 - 1848), no title

Go to the general single-text view

Note: in the Fisk work, this is sung by Earnshaw
Researcher for this page: Terry Fisk

"She was much too fond of Heathcliff"

9.
 (Sung text)

Language: English 
I'll come when thou art saddest
Laid alone in the darkened room;
When the mad day's mirth has vanished
And the smile of joy is banished
From evening's chilly gloom.

I'll come when the heart's real feeling
Has entire unbiassed sway,
And my influence o'er thee stealing,
Grief deepening, joy congealing,
Shall bear thy soul away.

Listen, 'tis just the hour,
The awful time for thee;
Dost thou not feel upon thy soul
A flood of strange sensations roll,
Forerunners of a sterner power,
Heralds of me?

Text Authorship:

  • by Emily Brontë (1818 - 1848)

See other settings of this text.

Note: in the Fisk work, this is sung by Catherine
Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]

10.
 (Sung text)

Language: English 
Child of delight
What brings you here
Beneath these sullen skies?

I saw and pitied mournful boy
And I swore if need were
To share your sadness
And give to you my sunny joy

Heavy and dark the night is closing
Heavy and dark may its biding be
Better for all from grief reposing
And better for all who watch like me

Guardian angel you lack no longer
Evil fortune you need not fear
Fate is strong, but love is stronger
And more unsleeping then angel care

Text Authorship:

  • by Emily Brontë (1818 - 1848), no title [an adaptation]

Based on:

  • a text in English by Emily Brontë (1818 - 1848)
    • Go to the text page.

Go to the general single-text view

Note: in the Fisk work, the first stanza is sung by Heathcliff and the rest by Catherine
Researcher for this page: Terry Fisk

SCENE FOUR

One day, a sneak visit to the neighbouring Thrushcross Grange property by Catherine and Heathcliff results in an attack by a watchdog. Heathcliff is told to go home. Catherine is taken in by Mrs Linton, the wife of the owner, and quickly adapts to the well bred manners of the children of the house, Edgar and Isabella [11]. When Catherines stay extends to five weeks Heathcliff resents her apparent change of attitude towards him [12]

"Where is Miss Catherine?" I cried hurriedly. "No accident I hope?"
"At Thrushcross Grange," he answered; "and I would have been there too, but they had not the manners to ask me to stay."

11.
 (Sung text)

Language: English 
Awaking morning laughs from heaven
On golden summer's forests green;
And what a gust of song is given
To welcome in that light serene.

A fresh wind waves the clustering roses,
And through the open window sighs
Around the couch where she reposes,
The lady with the dovelike eyes;

With dovelike eyes and shining hair,
And velvet cheek so sweetly moulded;
And hands so soft and white and fair
Above her snowy bosom folded.

Her sister's and her brother's feet
Are brushing off the scented dew,
And she springs up in haste to greet
The grass and flowers and sunshine too.

Text Authorship:

  • by Emily Brontë (1818 - 1848)

See other settings of this text.

Note: in Fisk's work, this is sung by Mrs. Linton
Researcher for this page: Nick Peros

12.
 (Sung text)

Language: English 
Lady in your palace hall
Once perchance my face was seen
Can no memory now recall
Thought again to what has been?

Text Authorship:

  • by Emily Brontë (1818 - 1848)

Go to the general single-text view

Note: in Fisk's work, this is sung by Heathcliff
Researcher for this page: Terry Fisk

SCENE FIVE

The following year, some weeks after giving birth to their son, Hareton, Hindleys wife, Francis, dies and he begins drinking heavily. When Heathcliff later overhears Catherine talking to Nelly about marriage to Edgar Linton [13] he is angry at her apparent rejection of him [14] and runs away to better himself [15]. Catherine is very upset when she realises Heathcliff has left [16]. She remains disturbed for a considerable period [17] then gradually accepts her loss [18] and decides to go ahead with her plans for marriage to Edgar [19] now owner of Thrushcross Grange following his parents' death from fever. She tries to forget Heathcliff and adjust to her new life in privileged society [20]

"I've no more business to marry Edgar Linton then to be in heaven. And if the wicked man in there had not brought Heathcliff so low, I shouldn't have thought of it. It would degrade me to marry Heathcliff now; so he shall never know how much I love him."

13.
 (Sung text)

Language: English 
On a sunny brae alone I lay
One summer afternoon
It was the marriage time of May
With her young lover, June.

 ... 

The trees did wave their plumy crests
The glad birds carolled clear
And I, of all the wedding guests
Was only sullen there

There was not one but wished to shun
My aspect void of cheer
 ... 

And I could utter no reply
 ... 
Why I had brought a clouded eye
To greet the general glow

So resting on a heathy bank
I took my heart to me
And we together sadly sank
Into a reverie

We thought when winter comes again
Where will these bright things be?
All vanished like a vision vain
An unreal mockery

The birds that now so blithely sing
Through deserts frozen dry
Poor spectres of the perished spring
In famished troops will fly

And why should we be glad at all
The leaf is hardly green
Before a token of its fall
Is on the surface seen

Now whether it were really so
I never could be sure
But as in fit of peevish woe
I stretched me on the moor

A thousand thousand gleaming fires
Seemed kindling in the air
A thousand thousand silvery lyres
Resounded far and near

Methought the very breath I breathed
Was full of sparks divine
And all my heather couch was wreathed
By that celestial shine

And, while the wide earth echoing rung
To their strange minstrelsy
The little glittering spirits sung
Or seemed to sing to me

Dying memories

Oh mortal! mortal let them die
Let time and tears destroy
That we may overflow the sky
With universal joy

Let grief distract the sufferer's breast
Let night obscure his way
They hasten him to endless rest
And everlasting day

To thee the world is like a tomb
A desert's naked shore
To us in unimagined bloom
It brightens more and more

And could we lift the veil and give
One brief glimpse to thine eye
Thou wouldst rejoice for those that live
Because they live to die

The music ceased the noonday dream
Like dream of night withdrew
But fancy still will sometimes deem
Her fond creation true

Text Authorship:

  • by Emily Brontë (1818 - 1848)

Go to the general single-text view

Note: in Fisk's work, this is sung by Catherine
Researcher for this page: Terry Fisk

14.
 (Sung text)

Language: English 
Light up the halls tis closing day
I'm drear and lone and far away
Cold blows on my breast the north winds bitter sigh
And oh, my couch is bleak beneath the rainy sky

Light up the halls and think not of me
That face is absent now thou hast hated so to see
Bright be thine eyes undimmed their dazzling shine
For never, never more will they encounter mine

The desert moor is dark there is tempest in the air
I have breathed my only wish in one last one burning prayer
A prayer that would come forth although it lingered long
That set on fire my heart but died upon my tongue

And now, it shall be done before the morning rise
I will not watch the sun ascend in yonder skies
One task alone remains thy pictured face to view
And then I go to prove if God at least be true

 ... 

Oh could I see thy lids weighed down in cheerless woe
Too full to hide the tears too stern to overflow
Oh could I know thy soul with equal grief was torn
This fate might be endured this anguish might be borne

 ... 

I do not need thy breath to cool my death-cold brow
But go to that far land where she is shining now
Tell her my latest wish tell her my dreary doom
Say my pangs are past but hers are yet to come

Vain words vain frenzied thoughts No ear can hear my call
Lost in the vacant air my frantic curses fall
And could she see me now perchance her lip would smile
Would smile in careless pride and utter scorn the while!

And yet for all her hate each parting glance would tell
A stronger passion breathed burned in this last farewell
Unconquered in my soul the Tyrant rules me still
Life bows to my control but love I cannot kill!

Text Authorship:

  • by Emily Brontë (1818 - 1848)

Go to the general single-text view

Note: in the Fisk work, this is sung by Heathcliff
Researcher for this page: Terry Fisk

15.
 (Sung text)

Language: English 
Now trusts a heart that trusts in you
And firmly say the word adieu
Be sure wherever I may roam
My heart is with your heart at home

And whiter brows then yours may be
And rosier cheeks my eyes may see
And lightning looks from orbs divine
Around my pathway burn and shine

But that pure light changeless and strong
Cherished and watched and nursed so long
That love that first its glory gave
Shall be my pole star to the grave

Text Authorship:

  • by Emily Brontë (1818 - 1848)

Go to the general single-text view

Note: in the Fisk work, this is sung by Heathcliff
Researcher for this page: Terry Fisk

16.
 (Sung text)

Language: English 
I would have touched the heavenly key
That spoke alike of bliss and thee
I would have woke the entrancing song
But its words died upon my tongue
And then I knew that hallowed strain
Would never speak of joy again
And then I felt.....

Text Authorship:

  • by Emily Brontë (1818 - 1848)

Go to the general single-text view

Note: in the Fisk work, this is sung by Catherine
Researcher for this page: Terry Fisk

17.
 (Sung text)

Language: English 
From our evening fireside now
Merry laugh and cheerful tone
Smiling eye and cloudless brow
Mirth and music all are flown

Yet the grass before the door
Grows as green in April rain
And as blithely as of yore
Larks have poured their day-long strain

Is it fear or is it sorrow
Checks the stagnant stream of joy?
Do we tremble that tomorrow
May some future peace destroy?

 ... 

One is absent, and for one
Cheerless chill is our hearthstone
One is absent and for him
Cheeks are pale and eyes are dim

The joy of life has flown
He is gone and we are lone
So it is by morn and eve
So it is in field and hall

For the absent one we grieve
One being absent saddens all

Text Authorship:

  • by Emily Brontë (1818 - 1848)

Go to the general single-text view

Note: in the Fisk work, this is sung by Catherine
Researcher for this page: Terry Fisk

18.
 (Sung text)

Language: English 
Why do I hate that lone green dell?
Buried in moors and mountains wild
That is a place I had loved so well
Had I but seen it as a child

 ... 

The earth shone round with a long lost charm
Alas I forgot I was not the same
Before a day an hour passed by
My spirit knew itself once more

I saw the gilded vapours fly
And leave me as I was before

Text Authorship:

  • by Emily Brontë (1818 - 1848)

Go to the general single-text view

Note: in the Fisk work, this is sung by Catherine
Researcher for this page: Terry Fisk

19.
 (Sung text)

Language: English 
There should be no despair for you
While nightly stars are burning
While evening pours its silent dew
And sunshine gilds the morning

There should be no despair though tears
May flow down like a river
Are not the best beloved of years
Around your heart forever?

They weep you weep it must be so
Winds sigh as you are sighing
And winter sheds its grief in snow
When autumn leaves are lying

Yet these revive and from their fate
Your fate cannot be parted
Then journey on if not elate
Then never broken-hearted!

Text Authorship:

  • by Emily Brontë (1818 - 1848), "Sympathy", appears in Poems by Currer, Ellis, and Acton Bell, first published 1846

See other settings of this text.

Note: in the Fisk work, this is sung by Catherine
Researcher for this page: Terry Fisk

20.
 (Sung text)

Language: English 
Here with my knee upon thy stone
I bid adieu to feelings gone
I leave with thee my tears and pain
And rush into the world again

Text Authorship:

  • by Emily Brontë (1818 - 1848)

Go to the general single-text view

Note: in the Fisk work, this is sung by Catherine
Researcher for this page: Terry Fisk

SCENE SIX

Three years after his departure Heathcliff returns much to Edgar's annoyance and Catherines' joy [21] The depth of their regard for each other is obvious [22] The harmony does not last. Following a dispute between Catherine and Edgar over Heathcliffs continued presence Catherine becomes delirious [23]. When it is discovered that Heathcliff has eloped with Isabella [24] Catherine suffers a brain fever which is later recognised as a symptom of pregnancy. After two months of devoted nursing by Edgar, she recovers. [25]

Isabella returns to Wuthering Heights married to Heathcliff and is treated badly by him. Heathcliff sneaks a meeting with Catherine who has become morose and fatalistic about her condition [26]. Catherine dies shortly after the premature birth of a daughter, also called Catherine [27] Heathcliff is distraught at her death and begs her ghost to haunt him and never leave him alone again [28]

21.
 (Sung text)

Language: English 
Fair sinks the summer evening now
In softened glory round my home
The sky upon its holy brow
Wears not a cloud that speaks of gloom

The old tower shrined in golden light
Looks down on the descending sun
So gently evening blends with night
You scarce could say that day is done

And this is just the joyous hour
When we were wont to burst away
To 'scape from labour's tyrant power
And cheerfully go out to play

Then why is all so sad and lone?
No merry footstep on the stair
No laugh no heart awaking tone
But voiceless silence everywhere

I've wandered round our garden ground
And still it seemed at every turn
That I should greet approaching feet
And words upon the breezes borne

In vain they will not come today
And mornings beams will rise as drear
But tell me are they gone for aye
Our sun blinks through the mists of care?

Ah no reproving Hope doth say
Departed joys 'tis fond to mourn
When every storm that hides their ray
Prepares a more divine return

Text Authorship:

  • by Emily Brontë (1818 - 1848)

Go to the general single-text view

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

  • CHI Chinese (中文) [singable] (Dr Huaixing Wang) , subtitle: "夏日黄昏", copyright © 2024, (re)printed on this website with kind permission

Note: in the Fisk work, this is sung by Catherine
Researcher for this page: Terry Fisk

"Oh Edgar Edgar ... Heathcliff's come back - he is!"

22.
 (Sung text)

Language: English 
Companions all day long we've stood
The wild winds restless blowing
All day we've watched the darkened flood
Around our vessel flowing

Sunshine has never smiled since morn
And clouds have gathered drear
And heavier hearts would feel forlorn
And weaker minds would fear

But look in each young shipmate's eyes
Lit by the evening flame
And see how little stormy skies
Our joyous blood can tame

 ... 
It is the hour of dreaming now

The red fire brightly gleams
And sweetest in a red fire's glow
The hour of dreaming seems
I may not trace the thoughts of all

But some I read as well
As I can hear the ocean's fall
And sullen surging swell
And one is there, I know the voice

 ... 

The thrilling stirring tone
That makes the bounding pulse rejoice
And makes us one alone

 ... 

Text Authorship:

  • by Emily Brontë (1818 - 1848)

Go to the general single-text view

Note: in the Fisk work, this is sung by Catherine
Researcher for this page: Terry Fisk

"Because I'm weak my brain got confused and I screamed unconsciously. Don't say anything but stay with me. I dread sleeping. My dreams appal me."

23.
 (Sung text)

Language: English 
Enough of thought philosopher
Too long as thou been dreaming
Unenlightened, in this chamber drear
While summers sun is beaming
Space sweeping soul, what sad refrain
Concludes thy musing once again?

"Oh for the time when I shall sleep
Without identity
And never care how rain may steep
Or snow may cover me!

No promised heaven, these wild desires
Could all or half fulfil?
No threatened hell with quenchless fires
Subdue this quenchless will!

So said I and still say the same
Still to my death will say
Three gods within this little frame
Are warring night and day

Heaven could not hold them all and yet
They all are held in me
And must be mine till I forget
My present entity

Oh for the time when in my breast
Their struggles will be o'er
Oh for the day, when I shall rest
And never suffer more!

I saw a spirit, standing man
Where thou doth stand an hour ago
And round his feet three rivers ran
Of equal depth and equal flow

A golden stream and one like blood
And one like sapphire seemed to be
But where they joined their triple flood
It tumbled in an inky sea

The spirit sent his dazzling gaze
Down through that oceans gloomy night
Then kindling all with sudden blaze
The glad deep sparkled wide and bright

White as the sun far far more fair
Then its divided sources were
And even for that spirit, seer
I watched and sought my life-time long

Sought him in heaven, hell, earth and air
An endless search and always wrong!
Had I but seen his glorious eye
Once light the clouds that wilder me

I ne're had raised this coward cry
To cease to think and cease to be
I ne'er had called oblivion blest
Nor, stretching eager hands to death

Implored to change for senseless rest
This sentient soul this living breath
Oh let me die that power and will
Their cruel strife may close
And conquered good and conquering ill
Be lost in one repose

Text Authorship:

  • by Emily Brontë (1818 - 1848)

Go to the general single-text view

Note: in the Fisk work, this is sung by Catherine
Researcher for this page: Terry Fisk

"She's gone, she's gone! Yon' Heathcliff's run off wi' her!"

24.
 (Sung text)

Language: English 
Silent is the house
All are laid asleep
One alone looks out
O'er the snow wreaths deep

Watching every cloud
Dreading every breeze
That whirls the wildering drifts
And bends the groaning trees

Cheerful is the hearth
Soft the matted floor
Not one shivering gust
Creeps through pane and door

The little lamp burns straight
Its rays shoot strong and far
I trim it well to be
The wanderers guiding star

Frown my haughty sire
Chide my angry dame
Set your slaves to spy
Threaten me with shame

But neither sire nor dame
Nor prying serf shall know
What angel nightly tracks
That waste of winter snow

What I love shall come
Like visitant of air
Safe in secret power
From lurking human snare

Who loves me no word of mine
Shall o'er betray
Though for faith unstained
My life must forfeit pay

Burn then little lamp
Glimmer straight and clear
Hush a rusting wind stirs
Me thinks the air

He for whom I wait
Thus ever comes to me
Strange power I trust your might
Trust thou my constancy

Text Authorship:

  • by Emily Brontë (1818 - 1848), "The Visionary", appears in Wuthering Heights and Agnes Grey, first published 1850

See other settings of this text.

Note: in the Fisk work, this is sung by Isabella
Researcher for this page: Terry Fisk

25.
 (Sung text)

Language: English 
The night of storms has passed
The sunshine bright and clear
Gives glory to the verdant waste
And warms the breezy air

And I would leave my bed
Its cheering smile to see
To chase the visions from my head
Whose forms have troubled me

In my all the hours of gloom
My soul was rapt away
I dreamt I stood by a marble tomb
Where royal corpses lay

It was just the time of eve
When parted ghosts might come
Above their prisoned dust to grieve
And wail their woeful doom

And truly at my side
I saw a shadowy thing
Most dim and yet its presence there
Curdled my blood with ghastly fear

And ghastlier wondering
My breath I could not draw
The air seemed uncanny
But still my eyes with maddening gaze
Were fixed upon its fearful face
And its were fixed on me

I fell down on the stone
But could not turn away
My words died in a voiceless moan
When I began to pray

And still it bent above
Its features full in view
It seemed close by and yet more far
Then this world from the farthest star
That tracks the boundless blue

Indeed 'twas not the space
Of earth or time between
But the sea of death's eternity
The gulf o'er which mortality
Has never never been

O bring not back again
The horror of that hour
When its lips opened
And a sound
Awoke the stillness reigning round
Faint as a dream but the Earth shrank
And heavens lights shivered
'Neath its power

Text Authorship:

  • by Emily Brontë (1818 - 1848)

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Note: in the Fisk work, this is sung by Catherine
Researcher for this page: Terry Fisk

26.
 (Sung text)

Language: English 
I see around me tombstones grey
Stretching their shadow far away
Beneath the turf my footsteps tread
Lie lone and lone the silent dead

Beneath the turf beneath the mould
Forever dark forever cold
And my eyes cannot hold the tears
That memory hoards from vanished years

For time and death and mortal pain
Give wounds that will not heal again
Let me remember half the woe
I've seen and heard and felt below
And heaven itself so pure and blest
Could never give my spirit rest

Sweet land of light thy children fair
Know naught akin to our despair
Nor have they felt nor can they tell
What tenants haunt each mortal cell
What gloomy guests we hold within
Torments and madness tears and sin

Well may they live in ecstasy
Their long eternity of joy
At least we would not bring them down
With us to weep with us to groan

No - Earth would wish no other sphere
To taste her cup of sufferings drear
She turns from heaven a careless eye
And only mourns that we must die

Ah mother what shall comfort thee
In all this boundless misery?
To cheer our eager eyes a while
We see thee smile how fondly smile

But who reads through that tender glow
Thy deep, unutterable woe!
Indeed no dazzling land above
Can cheat thee of thy children's love

We all in life's departing shine
Our last dear longings blend with thine
And struggle still and strive to trace
With clouded gaze thy darling face

We would not leave our native home
For any world beyond the tomb
No rather on thy kindly breast
Let us be laid in lasting rest

Or waken but to share with thee
A mutual immortality

Text Authorship:

  • by Emily Brontë (1818 - 1848)

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Note: in the Fisk work, this is sung by Catherine
Researcher for this page: Terry Fisk

"I shall not be at peace," moaned Catherine. "I'm not wishing you greater torment then I have, Heathcliff. I only wish us never to be parted."

27.
 (Sung text)

Language: English 
Thou standest in the greenwoods now
The place the hour the same
And here the fresh leaves gleam and glow
And there down in the lake below
The tiny ripples flame

But where is he today today?
O question not with me
I will not Lady only say
Where may thy lover be?

Is he upon some distant shore?
Or is he on the sea?
Or is the heart thou dost adore
A faithless heart to thee?

The heart I love what're betide
Is faithful as the grave
And neither foreign lands divide
Nor yet the rolling wave

Then why should sorrow cloud that brow
And tears those eyes bedim?
Reply this once is it that thou
Has faithless been to him?

I gazed upon the cloudless moon
And loved her all the night
Till morning came and ardent noon
Then I forgot her light

No not forgot eternally
Remains its memory dear
But could the day seem dark to me
Because the night was fair?

I well may mourn that only one
Can light my future sky
Even thou by such a radiant sky
My moon of life must die

Text Authorship:

  • by Emily Brontë (1818 - 1848)

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Note: in the Fisk work, this is sung by Catherine
Researcher for this page: Terry Fisk

"Be with me always - take any form - Drive me mad. Only do not leave me in this abyss, where I cannot find you."

28.
 (Sung text)

Language: English 
The wind was rough which tore
The leaf from its parent tree
The fate was cruel which bore
The withering corpse to me
 ... 

Text Authorship:

  • by Emily Brontë (1818 - 1848), "The wind was rough which tore", appears in The Complete Poems of Emily Brontë, first published 1910

See other settings of this text.

Note: in the Fisk work, this is sung by Heathcliff
Researcher for this page: Terry Fisk

SCENE SEVEN

Heathcliff's contempt for Isabella becomes obvious following Catherines death and she runs away from him and moves to South London where she gives birth, two months later to a son, Linton, whom she raises on her own. Two years later Isabella dies deserted by family, friends and society and longing for the familiar sights and sounds of her birth place [29]

Edgar's grief over Catherine's death turns him into a recluse and he takes to long isolated walks at night over the moorlands [30]] Six months after Isabella's death, Hindley dies, an alcoholic, his estate and son now under the legal control of Heathcliff. Hindley's death is mourned only by Nelly who knew him from childhood. [31] Catherine's child, Cathy, meanwhile was being raised by her father Edgar and Nelly in relative peace at the Grange

"I believe her new abode was in the south, near London: there she had a son. [She] died when Linton was twelve or a little more."

29.
 (Sung text)

Language: English 
The linnet in the rocky dells
The moor lark in the air
The bee among the heather bells
That hide a lady fair

The wild deer browse above her breast
The wild birds raise their brood
And they, her smiles of love caressed
Have left her solitude

I ween that when the graves dark wail
Did first her form retain
They thought their hearts could ne'er recall
The light of joy again

They thought the tide of grief would flow
Unchecked through future years
But where is all their anguish now
And where are all their tears?

Well let them fight for honours breath
Or pleasures shade pursue
The dweller in the land of death
Is changed and careless too

And, if their eyes should watch and weep
Till sorrows source were dry
She would not, in her tranquil sleep
Return a single sigh

Blow west-wind, by the lonely mound
And murmur summer streams
There is no need of other sound
To soothe a lady's dreams

Text Authorship:

  • by Emily Brontë (1818 - 1848), "Song", appears in Poems by Currer, Ellis, and Acton Bell, first published 1846

See other settings of this text.

Note: in the Fisk work, this is sung by Isabella
Researcher for this page: Terry Fisk

"Grief transformed him into a complete hermit. He spent a life of entire seclusion within the limits of his park and grounds, only varied by solitary rambles on the moors."

30.
 (Sung text)

Language: English 
How clear she shines!
How quietly I lie beneath her guardian light
While Heaven and Earth are whispering to me
"Tomorrow wake, but dream tonight."

 ... 

While gazing on the stars that glow
Above me in that stormless sea
I long to hope that all the woe
Creation knows is held in thee!

And this shall be my dream tonight
I'll think the heav'n of glorious spheres
Is rolling on its course of light
In endless bliss, through endless years.

I'll think there's not one world above
Far as these straining eyes can see
Where wisdom ever laughed at Love
Or Virtue crouched to Infamy

Where pleasure still will lead to wrong
And helpless reason warn in vain
And truth is weak, and treachery strong
And joy the shortest path to pain

And peace the lethargy of grief
And hope a phantom of the soul
And life a labour void and brief
And death the despot of the whole

Text Authorship:

  • by Emily Brontë (1818 - 1848), "How clear she shines", from Poems by Currer, Ellis, and Acton Bell, first published 1846

See other settings of this text.

Note: in the Fisk work, this is sung by Edgar
Researcher for this page: Victoria Brago

"I confess this blow was greater to me then the shock of Mrs Linton's death. Ancient associations lingered round my heart I sat down in the porch and wept as for a blood relation."

31.
 (Sung text)

Language: English 
How few of all the hearts  ... 
Are grieving for thee now
and why should mine tonight be moved
With such a sense of woe

Too often thus when left alone
Where none my thoughts can see
Comes back a word a passing tone
From thy strange history

Sometimes I seem to see thee rise
A glorious child again
 ... 

O fairly spread thy earthly sail
And fresh and pure and free
Was the first impulse of the gale
That urged life's wave for thee

Why did the pilot too confiding
Dream o'er that oceans foam
And trust in pleasures careless guiding
to bring his vessel home?

For well he knew what dangers frowned
What mists would gather dim
What rocks and shelves and sands lay round
Between his port and him

The very brightness of the sun
The splendour of the main
The wind that bore him wildly on
Should not have warned in vain

An anxious gazer from the shore
I marked the whitening wave
And wept the more
Because I could not save

It reeks not now when all is over
And yet my heart will be
A mourner still though friend and lover
Have both forgotten thee

Text Authorship:

  • by Emily Brontë (1818 - 1848)

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Note: in the Fisk work, this is sung by Nelly
Researcher for this page: Terry Fisk

SCENE EIGHT

On her sixteenth birth Cathy is taken to see her cousin Linton. A smuggled correspondence between the two children is carried on until stopped by Nelly, fearful of the possible consequences if it was discovered. Several months later Heathcliff tells Cathy that Linton is very sick and wants to see her again. The resulting visit is continued every evening for three weeks without her fathers knowledge [32]

When it become apparent Linton is failing, Heathcliff tricks Cathy and Nelly into visiting the Heights then holds them capture for four days while making preparation for a forced marriage between the two children so gaining legal control of both estates. Cathy, now Mrs Linton, escapes however, arriving at the bedside of her dying father, Edgar who is looking forward to being reunited with his beloved Catherine [33]. He dies peacefully at three in the morning. Cathy stays beside his bed until noon the next day [34]

After Edgar's funeral Heathcliff tells Nelly Linton and Cathy that he is going to rent out the Grange and all three must return with him to Wuthering Heights A little later he reveals to Nelly that, the day before, following the graveside ceremony, he had opened Catherine's coffin just to see her face again and had felt a strange sense of tranquillity and belonging. [35] Linton dies willing all his entitlements to his father leaving Cathy totally dependent on Heathcliff. During this time the first signs of an emerging friendship between Cathy and Hareton are noticed by Nelly. Lockwood informs Heathcliff that he is returning to city life

"And are you glad to see me?" .... "Yes I am. It's something new to hear a voice like yours."

32.
 (Sung text)

Language: English 
O transient voyager of heaven
O silent sign of winter skies
What adverse wind thy sail has driven
To dungeons where a prisoner lies?

Methinks the hand that shut the sun
So sternly from this mourning brow
Might still their rebel task have done?
And checked a thing so frail as thou

They would have done it had they known
The talisman that dwelt in thee
For all the suns that ever shone
Have never been so kind to me

For many a week, and many a day
My heart was weighed with sinking gloom
When morning rose in mourning grey
And faintly lit my prison room

But angel like, when I awoke
Thy silvery form so soft and fair
Shining through darkness, sweetly spoke
Of cloudy skies and mountains bare

 ... 

Thy presence  ... 
Waked a thrilling tone
That comforts me while thou art here
And will sustain when thou art gone

Text Authorship:

  • by Emily Brontë (1818 - 1848)

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Note: in the Fisk work, this is sung by Linton (stanzas 1, 3-6) and Cathy (second stanza).
Researcher for this page: Terry Fisk

"I'm going to her; and you, darling child, shall come to us."

33.
 (Sung text)

Language: English 
I'm happiest when most away
I can bear my soul from its home of clay
On a windy night when the moon is bright
And the eye can wander thru worlds of light

When I am not and none beside
Nor earth nor sea nor cloudless sky
But only spirit wandering wide
Thru infinite immensity.

Text Authorship:

  • by Emily Brontë (1818 - 1848), no title, appears in The Complete Poems of Emily Brontë, first published 1910

See other settings of this text.

Note: in the Fisk work, this is sung by Edgar
Researcher for this page: Victoria Brago

34.
 (Sung text)

Language: English 
 ... 
It was not a summer's day
That saw his spirits flight
He parted in a time of awe
A winter night

Text Authorship:

  • by Emily Brontë (1818 - 1848)

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Note: in the Fisk work, this is sung by Catherine
Researcher for this page: Terry Fisk

"I'll tell you what I did yesterday. I got the sexton to remove the earth off her coffin lid and I opened it."

35.
 (Sung text)

Language: English 
Cold in the earth, the deep snow piled above thee!
Far, far removed, cold in the dreary grave!
Have I forgot, my Only Love, to love thee,
Severed at last by Time's all wearing wave?

Cold in the earth, and eighteen wild Decembers
From those brown hills have melted into spring
Faithful indeed is the spirit that remembers
After such years of change and suffering!

Sweet love of youth, forgive if I forget thee
While the World's tide is bearing me along;
Other desires and darker hopes beset me
Hopes which obscure but cannot do thee wrong

No other light has lightened up my heaven;
No second morn has ever shone for me;
All my life's bliss from thy dear life was given
all my life's bliss is in the grave with thee.

But when the days of golden dreams had perished
And even despair was powerless to destroy
Then I did learn how existence could be cherished
Strengthened and fed without the aid of joy

Then did I check the tears of useless passion,
Weaned my young soul from yearning after thine;
Sternly denied its burning wish to hasten
Down to that tomb already more then mine

And even yet, I dare not let it languish
Dare not indulge in Memory's rapturous pain;
Once drinking deep of that divine anguish,
How could I seek the empty world again?

Text Authorship:

  • by Emily Brontë (1818 - 1848), "Remembrance", appears in Poems by Currer, Ellis, and Acton Bell, first published 1846

See other settings of this text.

Note: in the Fisk work, this is sung by Heathcliff
Researcher for this page: Victoria Brago

"They lifted their eyes together, to encounter Mr Heathcliff: Perhaps you have never remarked that their eyes are precisely similar and they are those of Catherine Earnshaw."

36.
 (Sung text)

Language: English 
Come hither child who gifted thee
With power to touch that string so well
How dare you wake thoughts in me
Thoughts that I would but cannot quell ?

 ... 

But thus it was - one festal night
When I was hardly six years old
I stole away from crowds and light
and sought a chamber dark and cold

I had no one to love me there
I knew no comrade and no friend
And so I went to sorrow where
Heaven only heaven saw me wend

Loud blew the wind twas sad to stay
From all that splendour barred away
I imaged in the lonely room
A thousand forms of fearful gloom

And with my wet eye raised on high
I prayed to God that I might die
Suddenly in that silence drear
A sound of music reached my ear

And then a note I hear it yet
So full of soul so deeply sweet
I thought that Gabriel's self had come
To take me to my fathers home

Three times it rose that seraph strain
Then died nor lived ever again
But still the words and still the tone
Swell round my heart when all alone

Text Authorship:

  • by Emily Brontë (1818 - 1848)

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Note: in the Fisk work, this is sung by Heathcliff
Researcher for this page: Terry Fisk

"Nelly, there is a strange change approaching. I'm in its shadow at present."

37.
 (Sung text)

Language: English 
Why ask to know the date the clime?
More then mere words they cannot be
Men knelt to God and worshipped crime
And crushed the helpless even as we

But they had learnt from length of strife
Of civil war and anarchy
To laugh at death and look on life
With somewhat lighter sympathy

It was the autumn of the year
The time to labouring peasants dear
Week after week from noon to noon
September shone as bright as June

Still, never hand a sickle held
The crops were garnered in the field
Trod out and ground by horse's feet
While every ear was milky sweet
And kneaded on the threshing floor
With mire of tears and human gore

Some said they thought that heaven's pure rain
Would hardly bless those fields again
Not so - the all benignant skies
Rebuked that fear of famished eyes

July passed on with showers and dew
And August glowed in showerless blue
No harvest time could be more fair
Had harvest fruits but ripened there

And I confess that hate of rest
And thirst for things abandoned now
Had weaned me from my country's breast
And brought me to that land of woe

Enthusiast in a name delighting
My alien sword I drew to free
One race, beneath two standards fighting
For Loyalty and Liberty

When kindred strive God help the weak
A brothers ruth 'tis vain to seek
At first it hurt my chivalry
To join them in their cruelty

But I grew hard I learnt to wear
An iron front to terror's prayer
I learnt to turn my ears away
From tortures groans as well as they

By force I learnt what power had I
To say the conquered should not die?
What heart one trembling foe to save
When hundreds daily filled the grave?

Yet there were faces that could move
A moment's flash of human love
And there were fates that made me feel
I was not to the centre steel

I've often witnessed wise men fear
To meet distress which they foresaw
And seeming cowards nobly bear
A doom that thrilled the brave with awe

Strange proofs I've seen how hearts could hide
Their secret with a lifelong pride
And then reveal it as they died
Strange courage and strange weakness too

In that last hour, when most are true
And timid natures strangely nerved
To deeds from which the desperate swerved
These I may tell but leave them now
Go with me where my thoughts would go
Now all today, and all last night
I've had one scene before my sight

Wood shadowed dales a harvest moon
Unclouded in its glorious noon
A solemn landscape wide and still
A red fire on a distant hill
A line of fires and deep below
Another duskier, drearier glow

Charred beams and lime and blackened stones
Self piled in cairns o'er burning bones
And lurid flames that licked the wood
Then quenched their glare in pools of blood

But yestereve No never care
Let street and suburb smoulder there-
Smoke-hidden, in the winding glen
They lay too far to vex my ken

Four score shot down all veterans strong
One prisoner spared their leader young
And he within his house was laid
Wounded, and weak and nearly dead

We gave him life against his will
For he entreated us to kill
And statue-like we saw his tears
And harshly fell our captain's sneers

'Now, heaven forbid' with scorn he said
that noble gore our hands should shed
Like common blood - retain thy breath
Or scheme, If thou canst purchase death

When men are poor we sometimes hear
And pitying grant that dastard prayer
When men are rich we make them buy
The pleasant privilege to die

O we have castles reared for kings
Embattled towers and buttressed wings
Thrice three feet thick, and guarded well
With chain and bolt and sentinel!

We build our despots dwellings sure
Knowing they love to live secure
And our respect for royalty
Extends to thy estate and thee

The supplicant groaned his moistened eye
Swam wild and dim with agony
The gentle blood could ill sustain
Degrading taunts, unhonoured pain

Bold had he shown himself to lead
Eager to smite and proud to bleed
A man amid the battle's storm
An infant in the after calm

Beyond the town his mansion stood
Girt round with pasture land and wood
And there our wounded soldiers lying
Enjoyed the ease of wealth in dying

For him, no mortal more then he
Had softened life with luxury
And truly did our priest declare
Of good things he had had his share

We lodged him in an empty place
The full moon beaming on his face
Through shivered glass, and ruins, made
Where shell and ball the fiercest played

I watched his ghastly couch beside
Regardless if he lived or died
Nay, muttering curses on the breast
Whose ceaseless moans denied me rest

Twas hard, I know, 'twas harsh to say
'Hell snatch thy worthless soul away!
But then 'twas hard my lids to keep
Through this long night, estranged from sleep

Captive and keeper, both outworn
Each in his misery yearned for morn
Even though returning morn should bring
Intenser toil and suffering

Slow slow it came Our dreary room
Grew drearier with departing gloom
Yet as the west wind warmly blew
I felt my pulses bound anew

And turned to him nor breeze nor ray
Revived that mould of shattered clay
Scarce conscious of his pain he lay
Scarce conscious that my hands removed
The glittering toys his lightness loved
The jewelled rings and locker fair

Forsake the world without regret
I murmured in contemptuous tone
The world poor wretch will soon forget
Thy noble name when thou art gone

And words of such contempt I said
Cold insults o'er a dying bed
Which as they darken memory now
Disturb my pulse and flush my brow

I know that Justice holds in store
Reprisals for these days of gore
Not for the blood, but for the sin
Of stifling mercy's voice within

The blood spilt gives no pang at all
It is my conscience haunting me
Telling how oft my lips shed gall
On many a thing too weak to be

Even in thought, my enemy
And whispering ever, when I pray
'God will repay - God will repay!

He does repay and soon and well
The deeds that turn his earth to hell
The wrongs that aim a venomed dart
Through nature at the Eternal Heart

Surely my cruel tongue was cursed
I know my prisoner heard me speak
A transient gleam of feeling burst
And wandered o'er his haggard cheek

And from his quivering lips there stole
A look to melt a demon's soul
A silent prayer more powerful far
Then any breathed petitions are
Pleading in mortal agony
To mercy's Source but not to me

My plunder taken I left him there
Without one breath of morning air
To struggle with his last despair
Regardless of the wildered cry
Which wailed for death yet wailed to die

I left him there unwatched alone
And eager sought the court below

W'ere o'er a trough of chiselled stone
An ice cold well did gurgling flow
The water in its basin shed
A stranger tinge of fiery red
I drank and scarcely marked the hue
My food was dyed with crimson too

As I went out a ragged child
With wasted cheek and ringlets wild
A shape of fear and misery
Raised up her helpless hands to me
And begged her fathers face to see

I spurned the piteous wretch away
Thy fathers face is lifeless clay
As thine mayst be ere fall of day
Unless the truth be quickly told
Where thou hast hid thy father's gold

Yet in the intervals of pain
He heard my taunts and moaned again
And mocking moans did I reply
And asked him why he would not die
In noble agony uncomplaining
Was it not foul disgrace and shame
To thus disgrace his ancient name?

Just then a comrade came hurrying in
Alas, he cried sin genders sin
For every soldier slain they've sworn
To hang up five come morn

They've taken of stranglers sixty three
Full thirty from one company
And all my father's family
And comrade thou hadst only one
They've taken thy all thy little son

Down at my captive's feet I fell
I had no option in despair
As thou wouldst save thy soul from hell
My heart's own darling bid them spare
Or human hate and hate divine
Blight every orphan flower of thine

He raised his head from death beguiled
He wakened up he almost smiled
Twice in my arms twice on my knee
You stabbed my child and laughed at me
And so with choking voice he said
I trust I hope in God she's dead

Yet not to thee not even to thee
Would I return such misery?
Such is that fearful grief I know
I will not cause thee equal woe

Write that they harm no infant there
Write that it is my latest prayer
I wrote - he signed and thus did save
My treasure from the gory grave

And oh my soul longed wildly then
To give his saviour life again
But heedless of my gratitude
The silent corpse before me lay

And still methinks in gloomy mood
I see it fresh as yesterday
The sad face raised imploringly
To mercy's God and not to me

I could not rescue him his child
I found alive and tended well
But she was full of anguish wild
And hated me, hated to hell
And weary with her savage woe
One moonless night I let her go

Text Authorship:

  • by Emily Brontë (1818 - 1848)

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Note: in the Fisk work, this is sung by Heathcliff
Researcher for this page: Terry Fisk

38.
 (Sung text)

Language: English 
In summer's mellow midnight
A cloudless moon shone through
The open parlour window
And rose trees wet with dew

I sat in silent musing
The soft wind waved my hair
I told me heaven was glorious
And sleeping earth was fair

I needed not its breathing
To bring such thoughts to me
But still it whispered lowly
How dark the woods will be

The thick leaves in my murmur
Are rustling like a dream
And all their myriad voices
Instinct with spirit seem

I said go gently singer
Thy wooing voice is kind
But do not think its music
Has power to reach my mind

Play with the scented flower
The young tree's subtle bough
And leave my human feelings
In their own course to flow

The wanderer would not leave me
Its kiss grew warmer still
Oh come it sighed so sweetly
I'll win thee 'gainst thy will

Have we not been from childhood friends?
Have I not loved thee long?
As long as though has't loved the night
Whose silence wakes my song

And when thy heart is laid at rest
Beneath the church yard stone
I shall have time no more to mourn
And thou to be alone

Text Authorship:

  • by Emily Brontë (1818 - 1848), "The Night-Wind", from Wuthering Heights and Agnes Grey, first published 1850

See other settings of this text.

Note: in the Fisk work, this is sung by Heathcliff
Researcher for this page: Terry Fisk

39.
 (Sung text)

Language: English 
Ah! why, because the dazzling sun
Restored my earth to joy
Have you departed, every one,
And left a desert sky?

All through the night, your glorious eyes
Were gazing down in mine,
And with a full heart's thankful sighs
I blessed that watch divine!

I was at peace, and drank your beams
As they were life to me
And revelled in my changeful dreams
Like petrel on the sea.

Thought followed thought—star followed star
Through boundless regions on,
While one sweet influence, near and far,
Thrilled through and proved us one.

Why did the morning dawn to break
So great, so pure a spell,
And scorch with fire the tranquil cheek
Where your cool radiance fell?

Blood-red he rose, and arrow-straight,
His fierce beams struck my brow;
The soul of Nature sprang elate,
But mine sank sad and low!

My lids closed down — yet through their veil
I saw him blazing still;
And bathe in gold the misty dale,
And flash upon the hill.

I turned me to the pillow then
To call back Night, and see
Your worlds of solemn light, again
Throb with my heart and me!

It would not do — the pillow glowed
And glowed both roof and floor,
And birds sang loudly in the wood,
And fresh winds shook the door.

The curtains waved, the wakened flies
Were murmuring round my room,
Imprisoned there, till I should rise
And give them leave to roam.

O Stars and Dreams and Gentle Night;
O Night and Stars return!
And hide me from the hostile light
That does not warm, but burn —

That drains the blood of suffering men;
Drinks tears, instead of dew:
Let me sleep through his blinding reign,
And only wake with you!

Text Authorship:

  • by Emily Brontë (1818 - 1848), "Stars", appears in Poems by Currer, Ellis, and Acton Bell, first published 1846

See other settings of this text.

Note: in the Fisk work, this is sung by Heathcliff

Researcher for this page: Terry Fisk

40.
 (Sung text)

Language: English 
The battle had passed from the height
And still did evening fall
While evening with its hosts of night
Gloriously canopied all

The dead around were sleeping
On heath and granite grey
And the dying their last watch were keeping
In the closing of the day

Text Authorship:

  • by Emily Brontë (1818 - 1848)

Go to the general single-text view

Note: in the Fisk work, this is sung by Nelly
Researcher for this page: Terry Fisk

41.
 (Sung text)

Language: English 
Aye there it is - it wakes tonight
Sweet thoughts that will not die
And feeling's fires flash all as bright
As in the years gone by

 ... 

Yes I could swear that glorious wind
Has swept the world aside
Has dashed its memory from my mind
Like foam bells from the tide

And thou art now a spirit pouring
Thy presence into all
The essence of the Tempest's roaring
And of the Tempest's fall

A universal influence
From my own influence free
A principle of life intense
Lost to mortality

Thus truly when the breast is cold
The prisoned soul shall rise
The dungeon mingle with the mould
The captive with the skies

Text Authorship:

  • by Emily Brontë (1818 - 1848)

Go to the general single-text view

Note: in the Fisk work, this is sung by Heathcliff
Researcher for this page: Terry Fisk

42.
 (Sung text)

Language: English 
High waving heather, 'neath stormy blasts bending,
Midnight and moonlight and bright shining stars;
Darkness and glory rejoicingly blended,
Earth rising to heaven and heaven descending,
Man's spirit away from its drear dungeon sending,
Bursting the fetters and breaking the bars.

All down the mountain sides, wild forests lending
One mighty voice to the lifegiving wind;
Rivers their banks in the jubilee rending,
Fast thru the valleys a reckless course wending,
Wider and deeper their valleys extending,
Leaving a desolate desert behind.

Shining and lowering and swelling and dying
Changing forever from midnight to noon;
Roaring like thunder like soft music sighing,
Shadows on shadows advancing and flying,
Lightning-bright flashes the deep gloom defying,
Coming as swiftly and fading as soon.

Text Authorship:

  • by Emily Brontë (1818 - 1848), appears in Poems by Charlotte, Emily, and Anne Brontë Now for the First Time Printed, first published 1902

See other settings of this text.

Note: in the Fisk work, this is sung by Heathcliff
Researcher for this page: Victoria Brago

"Poor Hareton, the most wronged, was the only one that suffered much and bemoaned him with that strong grief that comes from a generous heart."

43.
 (Sung text)

Language: English 
Well some may hate and some may scorn
And some may quite forget thy name
But my sad heart must ever mourn
Thy ruined heart, thy blighted fame

Twas thus I thought an hour ago
Even weeping in wretched woe
One word turned back my gushing tears
And lit my altered eye with sneers

Then bless the friendly dust I said
That hides thy late lamented head!
Vain as thou wert, and weak as vain
The slave of falsehood, pride and pain

My heart is nought akin to thine
Thy soul is powerless over mine
But these were thoughts that vanished too
Unwise, unholy, and untrue

Do I despise the timid deer
Because his limbs are fleet with fear?
Or would I mock the wolf's death howl
Because his form is gaunt and foul?
Or hear with joy, the leverets cry
Because it cannot bravely die?

No!

then above his memory
Let Pity's heart as tender be
Say 'Earth lie lightly on that breast
And, kind Heaven, grant that spirit rest!

Text Authorship:

  • by Emily Brontë (1818 - 1848)

Go to the general single-text view

Note: in the Fisk work, this is sung by Hareton
Researcher for this page: Terry Fisk

44.
 (Sung text)

Language: English 
And first an hour of mournful musing
And then a gush of bitter tears
And then a dreary calm diffusing
Its deadly mist o'er joys and cares

And then a throb and then a lightening
And then a breathing from above
And then a star in heaven brightening
The star the glorious star of love

Text Authorship:

  • by Emily Brontë (1818 - 1848)

Go to the general single-text view

Note: in the Fisk work, this is sung by Cathy
Researcher for this page: Terry Fisk

45.
 (Sung text)

Language: English 
Cold, clear, and blue, the morning heaven
Expands its arc on high;
Cold, clear, and blue the still lake water
Reflects the winter sky.

The moon has set, but Venus shines
A silent silvery star.

Text Authorship:

  • by Emily Brontë (1818 - 1848), no title, appears in Poems by Charlotte, Emily, and Anne Brontë Now for the First Time Printed, first published 1902

See other settings of this text.

Note: in the Fisk work, this is sung by Hareton
Researcher for this page: Victoria Brago

46.
 (Sung text)

Language: English 
All day I've toiled but not with pain
In learning's golden mine
And now at eventide again
The moonbeams softly shine

There is no snow upon the ground
No frost on wind or wave
The south wind blew with gentlest sound
And broke their icy grave

Tis sweet to wander here at night
To watch the winter die
With heart as summer sunshine light
And warm as summer's sky

O may I never lose the peace
That lulls me gently now
Through time may change my youthful face
And years may shade my brow

True to myself and true to all
May I be healthful still
And turn away from passion's call
And curb my own wild will

Text Authorship:

  • by Emily Brontë (1818 - 1848)

Go to the general single-text view

Note: in the Fisk work, this is sung by Hareton (stanza 1) and Cathy (stanza 2). They sing the remaining stanzas together.
Researcher for this page: Terry Fisk

47.
 (Sung text)

Language: English 
When days of beauty deck the earth
Or stormy nights descend
How well my spirit knows the path
On which it ought to wend

It seeks the consecrated spot
Beloved in childhood's years
The space between is all forgot
Its sufferings and its tears

Text Authorship:

  • by Emily Brontë (1818 - 1848)

See other settings of this text.

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

  • DUT Dutch (Nederlands) (Lidy van Noordenburg) , copyright © 2023, (re)printed on this website with kind permission

Note: in the Fisk work, this is sung by Cathy
Researcher for this page: Terry Fisk

"What's the matter, my little man? I asked ...There's Heathcliff and a woman, yonder, under t' nab."

48.
 (Sung text)

Language: English 
The night was dark yet winter breathed
With softened sighs on heaven's shore
And though its wind repining breathed
It chained the snow swollen streams no more

How deep into the wilderness
My horse has strayed I cannot say
But neither morsel nor caress
Would urge him further on the way

So loosening from his neck the rein
I set my worn companion free
And billowy hill and boundless plain
Full soon departed him from me

The sullen clouds lay all unbroken
And blackening round the horizon drear
But still they gave no certain token
Of heavy rain or tempests near

I paused confounded and distressed
Down in the heath my limbs I threw
Yet wilder as I longed for rest
More wakeful heart and eyelids grew

It was about the middle night
And under such a starless dome
When gliding from the mountains height
I saw a shadowy figure come

 ... 

This is my home where whirlpools blow
Where snowdrifts round my path are swelling
'Tis many a year 'tis long ago
Since I beheld another dwelling

 ... 

The shepherd has died on the mountainside
But my ready aid was near him then
I led him back o'er the hidden track
And gave him to his native glen

When tempests roar on the lonely shore
I light my beacon with sea-weeds dry
And it flings its fire through the darkness dire
And gladdens the sailor's hopeless eye

 ... 

And deem thou not that quite forgot
My mercy will forsake me now
I bring thee care and not despair
Abasement but not overthrow

To a silent home thy foot may come
And years may follow of toilsome pain
But yet I swear by that burning tear
The loved shall meet on its hearth again

Text Authorship:

  • by Emily Brontë (1818 - 1848)

Go to the general single-text view

Note: in the Fisk work, this is sung by Heathcliff (stanzas 1-6) and Catherine (stanzas 7-11)
Researcher for this page: Terry Fisk

"At that moment the garden gate swung to. The ramblers were returning. They are afraid of nothing, I grumbled."

49.
 (Sung text)

Language: English 
Tell me, tell me, smiling child,
What the past is like to thee?
"An autumn evening soft and mild
With a wind that sighs mournfully."

Tell me, what is the present hour?
"A green and flowery spray
Where a young bird sits gathering its power
To mount and fly away."

And what is the future, happy one?
"A sea beneath a cloudless sun;
 a mighty, glorious, dazzling sea
Stretching into infinity.

Text Authorship:

  • by Emily Brontë (1818 - 1848), appears in Poems by Charlotte, Emily, and Anne Brontë Now for the First Time Printed, first published 1902

See other settings of this text.

Note: in the Fisk work, this is sung by Nelly (asking the questions), Cathy (first and last answers) and Hareton (second answer).
Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]

50.
 (Sung text)

Language: English 
Often rebuked, yet always back returning
To those first feelings that were born with me
And leaving busy chase of wealth and learning
For idle dreams of things which cannot be

Today I will seek not the shadowy region
Its unsustaining vastness waxes drear
And visions rising, legion after legion
Bring the unreal world too strangely near

I'll walk, but not in old heroic traces
And not in paths of "high morality"
And not among the half distinguished faces
The clouded forms of long past history

I'll walk where my own nature would be leading
It vexes me to choose another guide
Where the grey flocks in ferny glens are feeding
Where the wild wind blows on the mountain side

What have those lonely mountains worth revealing?
More glory and more grief then I can tell
The earth that wakes one human heart to feeling
Can centre both the worlds of Heaven and Hell

Text Authorship:

  • by Emily Brontë (1818 - 1848), "Stanzas", from Wuthering Heights and Agnes Grey, first published 1850

See other settings of this text.

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

  • GER German (Deutsch) (Walter A. Aue) , "Strophen", copyright © 2008, (re)printed on this website with kind permission

Note: in the Fisk work, this is sung by Lockwood
Researcher for this page: Terry Fisk

51.
 (Sung text)

Language: English 
No coward soul is mine,
No trembler in the world's storm-troubled sphere
I see Heaven's glories shine
And Faith shines equal, arming me from Fear

O God within my breast
Almighty, ever-present Deity
Life that in me has rest
As I, Undying Life, have power in Thee

Vain are the thousand creeds
That move men's hearts, unutterably vain,
Worthless as withered weeds
Or idlest froth amid the boundless main

To waken doubt in one
Holding so fast by thine infinity
So surely anchored on
The steadfast rock of Immortality

With wide-embracing love
Thy spirit animates eternal years
Pervades and broods above,
Changes, sustains, dissolves, creates and rears

Though Earth and Man were gone
And suns and universes ceased to be
And Thou wert left alone,
Every existence would exist in thee

There is not room for Death
Nor atom that his might could render void
Since Thou are Being and Breath,
And what THOU art may never be destroyed.

Text Authorship:

  • by Emily Brontë (1818 - 1848), appears in Wuthering Heights and Agnes Grey, first published 1850

See other settings of this text.

Note: in the Fisk work, this is sung by Lockwood
Researcher for this page: Victoria Brago

52.
 (Sung text)

Language: English 
The sun has set, and the long grass now
Waves dreaming in the evening wind; 
 ...  

 ... 

Text Authorship:

  • by Emily Brontë (1818 - 1848)

See other settings of this text.

Note: in the Fisk work, this is sung by Nelly

Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]
Total word count: 8431
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