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John Wall Callcott - ноты, тексты

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John Wall Callcott - ноты, тексты

Уроки эстрадного вокала в Санкт-Петербурге
Название Материалы
A beauteous fair has pierced my heart
A beauteous fair has stole my heart
Ah! How Sophia can you leave?
Alas, cried Damon
Aldiborontiphoscophornio
Are the white hours for ever fled
As I was going to Derby
Blessed is he that considereth the poor
Bow down thine ear
Call to remembrance
Cara vale
Christ being risen from the dead
Consider my affliction, Lord
Defend me, Lord, from shame
Dull, repining sons of care
Epitaph on Sir John Calf
Farewell to Lochaber
Father of heroes
Fill the horn of glossy blue
Forgive blessed shade
Garvan
Go plaintive breeze
Green thorn of the hill of ghosts
Hail! Happy Albion!
Hark! the cock crows
Imperial Rome, the mistress of the world
In all her steps, in each enchanting eye
In the lonely vale
Let all the just to God with joy
Lone dweller of the rock
Mark the merry elves
Melrose
Miserere mei Deus
My soul with grateful thoughts of love
O blessed retirement
O God, my gracious God, to thee
O snatch me swift
O voi che sospirate
Oh thou where'er (thie bones att reste)
Oh! Sovereign of the willing soul
Once upon my cheek he said the roses grew
Out of the deep
Peace to the souls of the heroes
Pleasant is the voice of thy song
Rosabelle
See with ivy chaplet bound
She who lies here
Sir John Hawkins' History of Music
Soft and safe though lowly grave
Songe to Aelle
The Banks of the Yarrow
The Erl King
The haughty wife of Jove
The Historians
The Knell of tyrant laws I hear
The Lord himself, the mighty Lord
The Red Cross Knight
The Water King
Thou art beautiful queen of the valley
Thou palsied earth
Thou, lord, hast been a defence unto the poor
Though from thy bank of velvet torn
Through all the changing scenes of life
Thyrsis, when we parted
To all you ladies now at hand
To God, our never-failing strength
Vostra moglie fu baciata
Waterloo
Whann Battayle smethinge
When Arthur first in court began to wear long hanging sleaves
Whene'er my dame a-hedging goes
Why does beauteous Lina weep?
With sighs, sweet rose
Ye gentlemen of England

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