Historic Sheet Music Collection
"Who Has not Marked when the Sun was High" with the recitative " The Ice Clad Apl."
"Who Has not Marked when the Sun was High" with the recitative " The Ice Clad Apl."
As sung by Mr. Wood in the Grand Opera "Amilie" or A"The Love Test"
Music by William Michael Rooke
Words by John Thomas Haines
New York: Firth & Hall, 1, Franklin Street
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Lyrics
The Ice Clad Alp.
The Ice clad Alp no hunter's heart appals
while he in mem'ry hears love's cheering voice.
Behold the Chasm! behold the Chasm!
deep, deep the awful gulph!
death howls below, death howls below;
he fears not, he fears not,
while loves smiles, while love smiles,
he fears not, while love smiles,
while love smiles, he fears not.
Who has not Mark'd
Who has not mark's, when the sun was high,
The hunter linger the lone cot by,
With his rifle in hand, and his bugle slung,
As if to that cottage his heart"s hope clung
As if to that cottage his heart's hope clung
his heart's hope clung
There he but waits for his young love;s smile
The dangers and toils of the chase to be guile,
There he but waits for his young love's smile
The dangers and toils of the chase of the chase to be guile.
Who has not mark'd, when the sun was high,
The hunter linger the lone cot by,
With his rifle in hand, and his bugle slung,
As if to that cottage his heart's hope clung,
As if to that cottage, as if to that cottage his heart's hope clung
who has not mark's the lattice part,
And a smile beam forth from the hunter's heart,
When his arm grown strong bore his rifle high,
As he gas'd on her laughing and sparkling eye,
As he gas'd on her laughing and sparkling eye,
Loud his bugle rends the air
From rocks to rocks he's bounding,
His leap with the Chamois may compare,
Tho' death his steps surrounding,
Tho' death his steps surrounding,
Bold is his heart for he knows her truth,
Strong are his limbs with the hopes of youth,
For the smile from her glowing face above
Told a tale a tale of love return'd for love.
Who has not mark'd, when the sun was high,
The hunter linger the lone cot by,
With his rifle in hand, and his bugle slung,
As if to that cottage his heart's hope clung,
As if to that cottage, as if to that cottage his heart's hope clung
Then arouse thee, brave Jager, and away to the hills!
arouse! arouse! arouse! arouse! and away
Away, away, away, to the hills!
away, away, away. away, to the hills!
The views expressed in this paper are solely those of the author.