Have, fair fallen, O fair, fair have fallen, so dear To me, so arch-especial a spirit as heaves in Henry Purcell, An age is now since passed, since parted; with the reversal Of the outward sentence low lays him, listed to a heresy, here. Not mood in him nor meaning, proud fire or sacred fear, Or love or pity or all that sweet notes not his might nursle: It is the forgèd feature finds me; it is the rehearsal Of own, of abrupt self there so thrusts on, so throngs the ear. Let him Oh! with his air of angels then lift me, lay me! only I’ll Have an eye to the sakes of him, quaint moonmarks, to his [pelted]1 plumage under Wings: so some great [stormfowl, whenever]2 he has walked his while The thunder-purple seabeach plumèd purple-of-thunder, If a [wuthering]3 of his palmy snow-pinions scatter a colossal smile Off him, but meaning motion fans fresh our wits with wonder.
1 Fine: "palked"
2 Fine: "stormfount, whichever"
3 Fine: "withering"
- by Gerard Manley Hopkins (1844 - 1889), "Henry Purcell", written 1879 [author's text checked 1 time against a primary source]
Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive)
- by Gary Bachlund (b. 1947), "Henry Purcell", 2014 [medium voice and piano] [ sung text checked 1 time]
- by Vivian Fine (1913 - 2000), "Henry Purcell", 1984 [voice and string quartet], from Ode to Henry Purcell, no. 4 [ sung text checked 1 time]
Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]
This text was added to the website: 2014-08-20
Line count: 14
Word count: 160