by William Smyth (1765 - 1849)
'Tis but in vain, for nothing thrives
Language: English
'Tis but in vain, for nothing thrives, Where Dermot has to do, Ill-fortune seems, howe'er he strives, His footsteps to pursue! But one by one, when friends are gone, Must I forsake him too. O poverty! Full sure thou art A foe the most unkind; And weary, weary is the heart That feels thee still behind. But one by one, when friends are gone, Must I forsake him too. Next month he sails to find a home Beyond the western tide; And heav'n knows where he means to roam, His houseless head to hide. But one by one, when friends are gone, Must I forsake him too. Oh! Breathe it not thou passing wind, I tell it thee alone, My Dermot is not always, kind - He breaks my heart, I own, But one by one, when friends are gone, Must I forsake him too.
Authorship:
- by William Smyth (1765 - 1849) [author's text not yet checked against a primary source]
Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive):
- by Ludwig van Beethoven (1770 - 1827), "'Tis but in vain, for nothing thrives", WoO. 153 (20 Irische Lieder mit Begleitung von Pianoforte, Violine und Violoncello) no. 15, G. 224 no. 15, published 1814/6 [ voice, piano, violin, violoncello ] [sung text checked 1 time]
Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):
- GER German (Deutsch) [singable] (Georg Pertz) , "Vergebens ist's"
Researcher for this page: Ferdinando Albeggiani
This text was added to the website: 2005-01-12
Line count: 24
Word count: 145