The theater of music, or, A choice collection of the newest and best songs sung at the court and public theaters the words composed by the most ingenious wits of the age, and set to music by the greatest masters in that science : with a theorbo-bass to each song for the theorbo or bass-viol : also symphonies and retornels in 3 parts to several of them for the violins and flutes.
About this Item
Title
The theater of music, or, A choice collection of the newest and best songs sung at the court and public theaters the words composed by the most ingenious wits of the age, and set to music by the greatest masters in that science : with a theorbo-bass to each song for the theorbo or bass-viol : also symphonies and retornels in 3 parts to several of them for the violins and flutes.
Publication
London :: Printed by J. Playford for Henry Playford and R.C. ...,
1685-1687.
Rights/Permissions
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Subject terms
Songs, English -- England.
Songs with continuo.
Cite this Item
"The theater of music, or, A choice collection of the newest and best songs sung at the court and public theaters the words composed by the most ingenious wits of the age, and set to music by the greatest masters in that science : with a theorbo-bass to each song for the theorbo or bass-viol : also symphonies and retornels in 3 parts to several of them for the violins and flutes." In the digital collection Early English Books Online. https://name.umdl.umich.edu/A54969.0001.001. University of Michigan Library Digital Collections. Accessed May 4, 2024.
Pages
descriptionPage 28
〈♫〉〈♫〉BRight was the Morning, and cool the Air, se—rene was all the
Sky, when on the Waves I left my Fair, the Cen—ter of my Joy; Heaven and Nature
smi—ling were, and nothing sad but I. Each Rosie Field its Odour spread, all fragrant was the
Shoar; each Ri—ver God rose from his Bed, and sigh—ing own'd her Pow'r; curling their
Waves they deck'd their Heads, as proud of what they bore, as proud of what they bore.
Glide on ye Waters, bear these Lines, and tell her how opprest; hear all my Sighs, ye gentle
descriptionPage 29
Winds, and waft them to her Breast: Tell her, if e're she prove un—kind, I ne—ver shall have
rest; tell her, if e're she prove unkind, I ne—ver shall have rest.
Mr. William Turner.
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