New Prince, New Pomp (Simon Biazeck): Difference between revisions

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==Original text and translations==
==Original text and translations==
{{NoText}}
{{NoText|English
 
BEHOLD a silly, tender Babe,
  In freezing winter night
In homely manger trembling lies, -
  Alas, a piteous sight!
The inns are full, no man will yield
  This little Pilgrim bed;
But forced He is with seely beasts
  In crib to shroud His head.
Despise Him not for lying there,
  First, what He is enquire,
An Orient pearl is often found
  In depth of dirty mire.
Weigh not His crib, His wooden dish,
  Nor beasts that by Him feed;
Weigh not His mother’s poor attire
  Nor Joseph’s simple weed.
This stable is a Prince’s court,
  This crib His chair of state;
The beasts are parcel of His pomp,
  The wooden dish His plate.
The persons in that poor attire
  His royal liveries wear;
The Prince Himself is come from heaven -
  This pomp is prizëd there.
With joy approach, O Christian wight,
  Do homage to thy King;
And highly praise His humble pomp,
  Which He from heaven doth bring.}}


[[Category:Sheet music]]
[[Category:Sheet music]]
[[Category:Modern music]]
[[Category:Modern music]]

Revision as of 10:36, 1 September 2016

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  • (Posted 2016-09-01)  CPDL #40986:     
Editor: Simon Biazeck (submitted 2016-09-01).   Score information: A4, 10 pages, 480 kB   Copyright: CPDL
Edition notes:

General Information

Title: New Prince, New Pomp
Composer: Simon Biazeck
Lyricist: Robert Southwell

Number of voices: 4vv   Voicing: SATB

Genre: SacredCarol

Language: English
Instruments: A cappella

{{Published}} is obsolete (code commented out), replaced with {{Pub}} for works and {{PubDatePlace}} for publications.

Description:

External websites:

Original text and translations

English

BEHOLD a silly, tender Babe,

 In freezing winter night	

In homely manger trembling lies, -

 Alas, a piteous sight!	

The inns are full, no man will yield

 This little Pilgrim bed;	

But forced He is with seely beasts

 In crib to shroud His head.	

Despise Him not for lying there,

 First, what He is enquire,

An Orient pearl is often found

 In depth of dirty mire.	

Weigh not His crib, His wooden dish,

 Nor beasts that by Him feed;	

Weigh not His mother’s poor attire

 Nor Joseph’s simple weed.	

This stable is a Prince’s court,

 This crib His chair of state;	

The beasts are parcel of His pomp,

 The wooden dish His plate.

The persons in that poor attire

 His royal liveries wear;	

The Prince Himself is come from heaven -

 This pomp is prizëd there.	

With joy approach, O Christian wight,

 Do homage to thy King;	

And highly praise His humble pomp,

 Which He from heaven doth bring. text (or link to a text page) needs to be added.   Question.gif