Moll Roone reel

Also known as ‘Tis Sunshine At Last.

Moll Roone appears in 1 other tune collection.

Moll Roone has been added to 1 tune set.

Moll Roone has been added to 3 tunebooks.

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Three settings

1
X: 1
T: Moll Roone
R: reel
M: 4/4
L: 1/8
K: Gmaj
|:D|G2BG cAGF|GBdd d3B|dcAc cBGB|cAGF G3:|
d|dcBc dgfe|dcBc d3g|g2eg gfd2|fed^c d=cBA|
G2BG cAGF|GBdd d3B|dcAc cBGB|cAGF G3||
2
X: 2
T: Moll Roone
R: reel
M: 4/4
L: 1/8
K: Gmaj
D|G2 (B>G) (c>A) (G>F)|(GBd>).d d2 (B>d)|(dcA).c (cBG).B|(cA)(GF) G2 zD|
G2 (B>G) (c<A) (G>F)|(GBd>).d .d2 (Bd)|(dcA).c (cBG).B|(c<A) (.G.F) G2z||
.d|(d>c).B.c (dgfe)|(d>c).B.c .d2 .g>.g|(g2 e).g (gf2) d|(fed^c) !fermata!d4 {ded^cd} {fed=cBdc>A}|
G2 (B>G) (c>A) (GF)|(GBd>).d .d2 (B>d)|(dcA).c (dBG).B|(cAGF) G2z||
3
X: 3
T: Moll Roone
R: reel
M: 4/4
L: 1/8
K: Gmaj
D|G2 B>G (cA)GF|(GB) d>d d2 (Bd)|(dc)Ac (cB)GB|(cA)GF G2 z D|
G2 B>G (cA)GF|(GB) dd d2 (Bd)|(dc)Ac (cB)GB|(cA)GF G2 z d|
(d>c)Bc (dg)fe|d>cBc d2 g>g|g2 e gg f2 d|fed^c d=cBA|
G2 B>G (cA)GF|(GB) d>d d2 (Bd)|(dc)Ac (cB)GB|(cA)GF G2 z2||

Five comments

Re: Moll Roone

Where was that book published please, and who compiled it? The melody itself sounds Scandinavian.

Re: Moll Roone

It’s published by H. Hannam in London.

Moll Roone, X:3

Version set in Beethoven’s arrangement of Irish folk songs, WoO 153, no. 13, under the title " ‘Tis Sunshine At Last." (I’ve omitted the bar of rest between each section where Beethoven wrote interludes for the piano and violin accompaniment.)

Lyrics by William Smyth (1765 - 1849):

‘Tis sunshine at last, come, my Ellen, sit near me,
And twine me these roses, we sorrow no more;
Come taste of my cup, while it sparkles to cheer me,
The cup that I fill, now the tempest is o’er.
Oh! Not that my mirth, with unhallow’d intrusion,
Would thy gentle mind to rude transport beguile,
But catch from my bowl one fond passing illusion,
And crown my gay heart with thy sympathy’s smile.

Come taste of my cup - for ‘till Ellen shall share it,
In vain are the roses - in vain is the wine:
Past sorrow shall sweeten, and love shall prepare it,
For forms that are softer and finer like thine.
Bright beams a new world, and sweet visions break o’er us,
And as landscapes are fresher when past are the show’rs,
So richer the bliss and the gay hopes before us -
For where are the hearts that have sorrow’d like ours.

Oh! Ever, my love, must I think of that season,
When, friendless, we mingled our terrors and sighs;
And how had I failed, in the night of my reason,
Had comfort not beam’d from thine eloquent eyes.
Take the glass that I fill, take the homage I render:
No riot shall break the soft dreams of the soul;
Around us shall breathe an Elysium more tender,
And finer enchantment be waked from my bowl.