Description: This song was written in 1889 for Tenbury Musical Society and was dedicated to the Rev. J Hampton, Warden of St Michael's College, Tenbury. The words were published in the Century Magazine. This song was the earliest Elgar partsong to be published (by Novello in 1890) and was subsequently catalogued in Opus 18 together with two songs which were individually published much later (Op. 18/1 in 1896 and Op. 18/2 in 1907).
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Original text and translations
English text
My love dwelt in a Northern land. A dim tower in a forest green Was his and far away the sand And gray wash of the waves were seen The woven forest boughs between:
And through the Northern summer night The sunset slowly died away, And herds of strange deer, silverwhite, Came gleaming through the forest gray, And fled like ghosts before the day.
And oft that month we watched the moon Wax great and white o'er wood and lawn And wane, with waning of the June, Till, like a brand for battle drawn, She fell, and flamed in a wild dawn.
I know not if the forest green Still girdles round that castle gray. I know not if, the boughs between, The white deer vanish ere the day: The grass above my love is green, His heart is colder than the clay.
German translation
Translation by Jan-Frerk Burmester Poetic translation released under the CPDL license by Jan-Frerk Burmester. The translator would appreciate feedback if you use his translations - please email: jf.burmester(a)web.de
Im Norden lag mein's Liebsten Land. Ein dunkler Turm in Waldesgrün war sein,und an dem fernen Strand sah man die grauen Wogen zieh'n, davor die Waldeswipfel blüh'n.
Und in der nördlich Sommernacht erstarb das Licht am Waldesrain, und wunderweißer Hirsche Pracht glomm silberhell im grauen Hain. Sie floh'n wie Geister vor dem Schein.
Und oftmals sah'n des Mondes Kleid wir wachsen über Wald und Land, und abnehmen wie Junis Zeit, bis es, wie Krieges Feuerbrand, in wilder Dämm'rung Glut verschwand.
Ich weiß nicht, ob noch Waldesgrün umweht die grauen Zinnenreih'n, Ich weiß nicht, ob noch Hirsche fliehn, verschreckt von fahler Dämm'rung Schein. Das Gras auf seinem Grab ist grün, mein's Liebsten Herz ist kalt wie Stein.