The Foggy Dew Solo Cello - Patrick Dexter скачать в хорошем качестве

The Foggy Dew Solo Cello - Patrick Dexter

This beautiful ancient Celtic tune, sometimes known as 'Down the Glen' was made famous in the early 20th century when words were added entitling it 'The Foggy Dew'. This song tells the story of Ireland's uprising and fight for independence in 1916 but the melody is far older. If you enjoy this music please consider buying me a cup of coffee at: www.ko-fi.com/patrickdexter The Foggy Dew" was the name of an Irish traditional song in Edward Bunting's famous collection of traditional music 'The Ancient Music of Ireland' (1840). The same melody already appears in O'Farrell's Collection of National Irish Music for the Union Pipes (London, 1804), where it is called "Corraga Bawn. This was one of many times the tune was written down but the melody itself is far older having come from the ancient aural harping tradition that was coming to an end when Bunting and O'Farrell wrote this tune down. However, the melody of The Foggy Dew as it is sung today more closely resembles the Irish folk melody “Banks of the Mourlough Side”. In truth, like many Irish traditional tunes, its true origins remains a mystery. The author of the lyrics well known today was anonymous for decades as on the publication the author just signed it with the pseudonym 'Iascar' (meaning fisherman in Irish Gaelic). Historians now have revealed the author to have been Canon Charles O'Neill of Co. Antrim. The Lyrics to the Ballad below: "The Foggy Dew: As down the glen one Easter morn to a city fair rode I There armed lines of marching men in squadrons passed me by No fife did hum nor battle drum did sound its dread tattoo But the Angelus bell o’er the Liffey swell rang out through the foggy dew Right proudly high over Dublin town they hung out the flag of war ’Twas better to die ’neath an Irish sky than at Suvla or Sedd El Bahr And from the plains of Royal Meath strong men came hurrying through While Britannia’s Huns, with their long-range guns sailed in through the foggy dew ’Twas Britannia bade our Wild Geese go that small nations might be free But their lonely graves are by Suvla’s waves or the shore of the Great North Sea Oh, had they died by Pearse’s side or fought with Cathal Brugha Their names we will keep where the Fenians sleep ’neath the shroud of the foggy dew But the bravest fell, and the requiem bell rang mournfully and clear For those who died that Eastertide in the springing of the year And the world did gaze, in deep amaze, at those fearless men, but few Who bore the fight that freedom’s light might shine through the foggy dew Ah, back through the glen I rode again and my heart with grief was sore For I parted then with valiant men whom I never shall see more But to and fro in my dreams I go and I’d kneel and pray for you, For slavery fled, O glorious dead, When you fell in the foggy dew.