If music be the food of love for low voice and guitar by Henry Purcell Small Ensemble - Digital Sheet Music

By Henry Purcell

Words by Colonel Henry Heveningham (1651-1700), using the first few words from Shakespeare's Twelfth Night as a starting point. Henry Purcell made several settings of these words. This is my D minor arrangement of one of them. Versions are available for flute/cor anglais/viola/clarinet/low voice and piano and for flute/cor anglais/viola/clarinet/low voice and guitar If Music be the food of love sing on,sing on till I am fill'd with joy: For then my list'ning soul you move to pleasures that can never cloy.your eyes, your mien, your tongue declare that you are music ev'ry where Pleasures invade both eye and ear so fierce the transports are they wound, and all my senses feasted are, tho' yet the treat is only sound. Sing on, fair nymph, enchant me still; such charms may wound, they can not kill.

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Details

Format:
Score and Parts
Item types:
Digital
Level:
Intermediate
Artist:
Henry Purcell
Arrangers:
David Warin Solomons
Usages:
School and Community
Number of Pages:
3

Small Ensemble Guitar, Low Voice, Medium Voice, Voice - Level 3 - Digital Download

SKU: A0.576683

Composed by Henry Purcell. Arranged by David Warin Solomons. This edition: pdf. Baroque, Classical. 3 pages. David Warin Solomons #62299. Published by David Warin Solomons (A0.576683).

Words by Colonel Henry Heveningham (1651-1700), using the first few words from Shakespeare's Twelfth Night as a starting point.
Henry Purcell made several settings of these words.
This is my D minor arrangement of one of them.
Versions are available for flute/cor anglais/viola/clarinet/low voice and piano and for flute/cor anglais/viola/clarinet/low voice and guitar

If Music be the food of love sing on,
sing on till I am fill'd with joy:
For then my list'ning soul you move to pleasures that can never cloy.
your eyes, your mien, your tongue declare
that you are music ev'ry where
Pleasures invade both eye and ear
so fierce the transports are they wound,
and all my senses feasted are, tho' yet the treat is only sound.
Sing on, fair nymph, enchant me still;
such charms may wound, they can not kill.

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