Perhaps somewhere, hidden away in some old music catalogue, I may find something more of Brahms in relation to Shakespeare. Indeed, I hope so. What a Hamlet overture he could have written!
The bridal song, "Roses, their sharp spines being gone," and graceful dance (Malvolio), composed for Sir Herbert Tree's revival of Twelfth Night, make one wish that the composer, Paul Rubens, had devoted more time to this kind of work. The words, by Fletcher, are beautifully set; and though there is no attempt at intentional archaism, there is an inimitable quaintness about this song, and the graceful dance which always accompanies Malvolio's entrances and exits, that is hard to find in modern Shakespearian music.
Augustus Barratt's setting of "Come away, Death," in the same production, is very beautiful. Frederick Corder's version of the same lyric for a trio of female voices and piano is a sad little number; but I wish he would set the words straight, without repetitions.
Sir Charles Villiers Stanford's settings of the "Clown's songs" in Twelfth Night were not written for any special production, and were first sung by Mr Plunket Greene. There is no needless repetition of the words, every syllable being given its exact musical value; so, from several points of view these versions are nearly perfect. The first, "O mistress mine," has a flowing though not very significant melody, and a graceful accompaniment. The second, "Come away, Death," is naturally of a very sombre nature, the harmonies being rather more elaborate than in the other two songs. The last lyric, "The rain it raineth every day," is, to my mind, much the best of the three. It is a very merry song, and the major effect and the little florid voice passage at the end make a charming close. Unfortunately, Sir Charles omits the last verse but one.
Dr Arne's setting is beautiful. It has a curious burden to it, in the accompaniment only; but the words are sadly chopped about.
Sullivan's "O mistress mine" is quite one of his most effective songs; and there is a beautiful flowing obbligato in the accompaniment which suggests that Sir Andrew, who played on the "viol-de-gamboys," was playing it for the Clown.
J. L. Hatton's setting of "When that I was" is quite pretty, but he plays the deuce with the words. The exquisitely quaint first line, "When that I was and a little tiny boy" becomes "When I was a tiny boy"; the last verse but one is entirely omitted; and the last verse of all is quite spoilt. There can be no possible excuse for Hatton or anyone else changing "But that's all one; our play is done, and we'll strive to please you every day," into "But that's all one, our song is done, for the rain it raineth every day." This song, for tenor solo and four-part male chorus, won a prize given by the Melodists' Club. I suppose it was a word-distorting contest, and I congratulate the judges on a fine decision.
Samuel Coleridge Taylor's setting of "O mistress mine" is interesting in several ways. It is not in the least like any other musical version of the same words, and, though they are set quite straightforwardly, the general effect is curiously bizarre. The accompaniment is in the style of a guitar serenade, which is, of course, thoroughly in keeping with the stage situation, although the song itself was not composed for any special stage performance.