by Walter Scott, Sir (1771 - 1832)
Translation Singable translation by Anonymous / Unidentified Author
Sunset
Language: English
Available translation(s): FRE
The sun upon the Weirdlaw hill, in Ettrick's vale is sinking sweet; the westland wind is hush and still, the lake lies sleeping at my feet. Yet not the landscape to mine eyes bears those bright hues that once it bore; tho' Ev'ning, with her richest dye, flames o'er the hills on Ettrick's shore. With listless look along the plain, I see Tweed's silver current glide, And coldly mark the holy fane Of Melrose rise in ruin'd pride. The quiet lake, the balmy air, The hill , the stream, the tower, the tree, Are they still such as once they were, Or is the dreary change in me? Alas, the warp'd and broken board, How can it bear the painter's dye? The harp of strain'd and tuneless chord, How to the minstrel's skill reply? To aching eyes each landscape lowers, To feverish pulse each gale blows chill: And Araby's or Eden's bowers, Were barren as this moorland hill.
Authorship:
- by Walter Scott, Sir (1771 - 1832), "Sunset" [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), "Sunset", op. 108 (25 schottische Lieder mit Begleitung von Pianoforte, Violine und Violoncello) no. 2 (1815) [ voice, violin, violoncello, piano ] [sung text checked 1 time]
Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):
- FRE French (Français) (Daphné van Raemdonck) , "Coucher de soleil", copyright © 2010, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
- GER German (Deutsch) [singable] (Anonymous/Unidentified Artist) , "Der Abend"
Research team for this page: Caroline Diehl , Ferdinando Albeggiani
This text was added to the website: 2004-08-03
Line count: 24
Word count: 158
Der Abend
Language: German (Deutsch)  after the English
Die Sonne sinkt in's Ettrick-Tal an Weirdlaws hainumkränzter Höh', der Westhauch flüstert mit dem Strahl, zu meinen Füssen schläft der See. Doch nicht entzückt mich wie zuvor der Landschaft glanzerfüllte Pracht, wenn auch im reichsten Farbenflor auf Ettrick's Strand der Abend lacht. Kalt bleibt mein Blick, wo grün umlaubt die Tweed in feuchtem Silber prangt, auf hoher Trümmer stolzem Haupt Melrose's heil'ge Fahne schwankt. Der stille See, die Balsamluft, der Berg, der Strom, die Burg, der Baum, hat sich's verwandelt? oder ruft mein Ich: verschwunden ist der Traum? Ach, ein zerrissen Pergament nimmt nicht des Künstlers Farben an, und dem gebrochnen Instrument kein Bard' ein Lied entlocken kann! Ein wundes Auge sieht nur Nacht, dem Kranken haucht kein Zephyr lau, ach, ihm ist Edens Sonnenpracht wie dieser Heidehügel rauh!
Authorship:
- Singable translation by Anonymous / Unidentified Author, "Der Abend" [author's text not yet checked against a primary source]
Based on:
- a text in English by Walter Scott, Sir (1771 - 1832), "Sunset"
Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive):
- [ None yet in the database ]
Researcher for this page: Auditorium du Louvre
This text was added to the website: 2004-08-03
Line count: 24
Word count: 129