^>. IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-S) /^ ^ .^^4^. 1.0 I.I 1.25 1^ 1^ 1^ 1 s^i 2.2 III 1,^ U 11.6 I ^ ^ 7J ol ^;. ^ # <^ V* "> '/ /A Photographic Sciences Corporation 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 (716) 872-4503 ■^ i/x CIHM/ICMH Microfiche Series. CIHM/ICMH Collection de microfiches. Canadian Institute for Historical Microreproductions / Institut Canadian de microreproductions historiques > Technical and Bibliographic Notes/Notes techniques et bibliographiques The Institute has attempted to obtain the best original copy available for filming. Features of this copy which may be bibliographically unique, which may alter any of the images in the reproduction, or which may significantly change the usual method of filming, are checked below. D D D D D D D D D D D Coloured covers/ Couverture de couleur Covers damaged/ Couverture endommagde Covers restored and/or laminated/ Couverture restaurde et/ou pelliculde Cover title missing/ Le titre de couverture manque Coloured maps/ Cartes gdographiques en couleur Coloured ink (i.e. other than blue or black)/ Encre de couleur (i.e. autre que bleue ou noire) Coloured plates and/or illustrations/ Planches et/ou illustrations en couleur Bound with other material/ Relid avec d'autres documents Tight binding may cause shadows or distortion along interior margin/ La re liure serr6e peut causer de I'ombre ou de la distortion »> (meaning "CON- TINUED "), or the symbol V (meaning "END"), whichever applies. Un des symboles suivants apparaitra sur la dernidre image de cheque microfiche, selon le cas: le symbols — ^ signifie "A SUIVRE", le symbols V signifie "FIN". re Maps, plates, charts, etc., may be filmed at different reduction ratios. Those too large to be entirely included in one exposure are filmed beginning in the upper left hand corner, left to right and top to bottom, as many frames as required. The following diagrams illustrate the method: Les cartes, planches, tableaux, etc., peuvent dtre filmis A des taux de reduction diff6rents. Lorsque le document est trop grand pour dtre reproduit en un seul cliche, il est film^ d partir de I'angle supirieur gauche, de gauche d droite, et de haut en bas, en prenant le nombre d'images nicessaire. Les diagrammes suivants illustrent la mithode. / errata id to It ie pelure, pon d n 1 2 3 32X 1 2 3 4 5 6 i . J ♦. ARCHiVES FILE PROGRAMME MR. PLUNKET GREENE MRS. DOROTHY HARVEY MR. RUDOLPH VON SCARPA •• THE HEINTZNIAN & CO. PIANO USED Baritone Soprano • Pianist I. Piano Solo - Hungarian Rhapsody, No. 13 MR. RUDOLPH VON SCARPA 2. Song 3. Songs (a) ''Bois Epais" "Elsa's Traume" - (From Lohengrin) MRS. DOROTHY HARVEY MR. PLUNKET GREENE Lisat Wagner Lutty {i68s) Bois ^pais redouble ton ombre, Tu ne saurais etre assez sombre, Tu ne peux trop cacher Mon malheureux amour. Je sens un d^sespoir Dont I'horreur est extreme, Je ne dois plus voir ce que j'aime, Je ne veux plus souffrir le jour. QUINAULT. Sombre woods, ye glades dark and lonely, Where midnight gloom enters only, Oh, hide my slighted love In your unbounded night. If now this broken heart Never more may enfold her, If no more these eyes may behold her, Then evermore I hate the light. Theo. Marzials. (J) '* Entende«-vous Lc Carillon Da Verre'' i8th Century, Arranged by C. V. Stanford. Hark, how our glasseii chime with Entendez-vous le carillon du verre ? II solennise nos plaisirs ; Quel bruit plus charmant sur la terre ! II rappelle la soif, il endort les soupirs. Les cloches par leur son Ecartent le tonnerre, Quand il fait gronder son courroux ; Celui du verre Ecarte loin de nous Les soucis qui nous font guerre. Entendez-vous le carillon du verre? II solennise nos plaisirs ! {Ail rights reserved) merry din, To ring with pomp our pleasures in ! What sound hath earth than this more blest, That wakes our thirst anew, and brings our cares to rest ? The holy bells, they say, Fright thunder clouds away, When near their rumbling chariot rolls ; With sweeter sound These crystal chimes confound The cares that would invest our souls. Hark, how our glasses chime with merry din. To ring with pomp our pleasures in ! Paul England > (c) ** Aa Flageln-Des Gesanges ' Mendelssohn Auf Fliigeln des Gesanges Herzliebchen, trag' ich dich fort, Fort nach den Fluren des Gangesj Dort Weiss ich den schonsten Ort ; Da liegt ein rothbluhender Garten Im stillen Mondenschein, Die Lotosblumen erwarten Ihr trautes Schwesterlein. Die Veilchen kichern und kosen, Und schau'n nach den Sternen empor, Heimlich erzahlen die Rosen Sich duftende Miirchen in's Ohr. Es hiipfen herbei and lauschen Die frommen, klugen Gazell'n, Und in der Feme rauschen Des heil'gen Stromes Well'n. Dort wollen wir nieder sinken Unter dem Palmembaum, Und Lieb' und Ruhe trinken, Unn traunien seligen Traum. Heine. On wings of song I'll bear thee To the fairest of all fair lands, Where the deeped-voice Asian Ganges Rolls through its flowery strands. There, in a roseate garden, Where the moon-charmed breeze is dumb. Thy lovely kin, the lotus, Wait till their sister come. The violets whisper together As they gaze on the star-lit skies, The roses lean to each other And mingle their perfumed sighs. Over the leaves come leaping The gentle wary gazelles ; Afar, from the sacred river, A solemn murmur swells. And there, in the palm tree shadows, Stretched on the breathing flowers. We'll drink the love-laden silence And dream through the blissful hours. Paul England. (d) '*Abschied' Schubert (English translation) Farewell, merry town, with thy frolic and mirth, Farewell ! My good horse is neighing, no longer he'll stand, So take my last greeting from heart and from hand ; Never yet hast thou seen me in sorrowful case ; Though the parting be hard, I must wear a brave face. Farewell, ye trees, and ye gardens so gay, Farewell ! By the crystalline stream as I canter along, I send you at parting, a loud-ringing song. The songs I have sung you were gay ones ail, — No gloomier sounds from my lips shall fall. Farewell, ye maidens, whose smiles were so kind, Farewell ! How shyly you peep from the rose-covered porch. And beckon me back with your eyes' bright torch ! I greet you, and smile on each smiling face. Yet dare I not slacken my horse's pace. Farewell ! — ye stars, hide your tremulous lamps ! Farewell ! The light from the one little window I love Shines brighter for me than your legions above. Alas ! though your watches ye faithfully keep. That light I must lose, and the darknes is deep. Paul England ohn ges J IS (e) ^'Vergebliches Standchen tt Brahms ws, jrs, irs. hert "Guten Abend, mein Schatz \ Guten Abend, mein Kind I Ich komm' aus Lieb' zu Dir, Ach, mach' mir auf die Thiir' ! Mach' mir auf die Thur ! "Mein Thiir'ist verschlossen, ich lass' Dich nicht ein ! Mutter, die rath mir khig, Warst Du herein mit Fug, War's mit mir vorbei ! " '•So kalt ist die Nacht, so eisig der Wind, Dass mir Herr erfriert, Mein' Lieb' erloschen wird, OefFne mir, mein Kind ! *• Liischet dein' Lieb', lass sie loschen nur ! Loschet sie, immerzu, Geb' heim zu Bett, zur Ruh' I Gute Nacht, mein Knab'." (/) "The Sands o* Dec" [By request) Oh, Mary, go and call the cattle home Across the sands o' Dee. The western gale blew wild and dark with foam. And all alone went she. The western tide crept up along the sand, And round and round the strand. And o'er and o'er the strand. As far as eye could see. The blinding mist came down and hid the land, And never home came she. {g) " The Fairy Loagh " "Good even, fair mistress ! How goes it, sweetheart ? I'm here for love of thee, Open thy door to me ! Let me in, sweetheart ! " " Fast locked is my chamber, and barred for the night ; My mother tells me true, Should I give heed to you, 'Twould undo me quite ! " " The night is so raw, the wind blows so wild My heart will starve with cold. My love no longer hold, — Let me in, sweet child 1 " " When hearts grow chilly, then lovers should part ! True love's a fire, lis said. So get you gone to bed I Fare you well, cold heart ! " F. Clay Oh, is it weed, or fish, or floating hair, A tress of golden hair, A drowned maiden's hair, Above the nets at sea? Was never salmon yet that shone so fair Among the stakes of Dee. They rowed her in across the rolling foam. The cruel, crawling foam, The cruel, hungry foam. To her grave beside the sea ; But still the boatmen hear her call the cattle home Across the sands o' Dee. Chas. Kingsley. C, V. Stanford {Moira O'Neill) Loughareema ! Loughareema ! Lies so high among the heather ; A little lough, a dark lough. The wather's black an' deep. Ould herons go a-fishin' there, An' sea-gulls all together Float roun' the one green island On the fairy lough asleep. Loughareema ! Loughareema I When the sun goes down at seven, When the hills are dark an' airy, 'Tis a curlew whistles sweet t Then somethin' rustles all the reeds That stand so thick and even ; A little wave runs up the shore An' flees, as if on feet. Loughareema ! Loughareema ! Stars come out, an' stars are hidin' ; The wather whispers on the stones. The flittherin' moths are free. One'st before the mornin' light The Horsemen will come ridin' Roun' an' roun' the fairy lough. An' no one there to see. {h) "The Old Navy' C. V. Stanford 1^. I The captain stood on the carronade : " P'irst Lieutenant," says he, *' Send all my merry men aft here, For they must list to me ! I haven't the jfift of the gab, my sons, Because I'm bred to the sea ; That ship there is a Frenchman, Who means to fight with we. And odds bobs, hammer and tongs, Long as I've been to sea, I've fought against every odds. But I've won the victory." '* That ship there is a Frenchman, And if we don't take she. It's a thousand bullets to one That she will capture we. I haven't the gift of the gab, my boys, So each man to his gun ; If she's not mine in half-an-hour, I'll flog ev'ry mother's son ! And odds bobs, etc." 4. Songs We fought for twenty minutes, When the Frenchman had enough ; " I little thought," said he, ** That your men were of such stuff." Our Captain took the Frenchman's sword, A low bow made to he ; " I haven't thegift of the gab, monsieur, But polite I wish to be. And odds, bobs, etc." Our Captain sent for all of us ; " My merry men," said he, '* I haven't the gift of the gab, my lads, But yet I'll thankful be : You've done your duty handsomely, Each man stood to his gun ; If you hadn't you villains, as sure as day I'd have flogg'd ev'ry mother's son. And odds bobs, etc." Captain Marryat Songs («) "Parting" (6) "You and I" (c) "Ni Jamais, ni Toujoors" {d) "The Danza" .... MRS. DOROTHY HARVEY Traditional Irish Melodies MR. PLUNKET GREENE Rogers Liza Lehmann Old French Chadwick {a) " The Gentle Maiden " There's one that is pure as an angel. And fair as the flowers of May, They call her the gentle maiden Wherever she takes her way. Her eyes have the glance of sunlight, As it brightens the blue sea wave, And more than the deep sea treasure, The love of her heart I crave. (b) " Little Mary Cassidy " Arranged by Arthur Somervell Though parted afar from ray darling, I dream of her everywhere, The sound of her voice is about me, The spell of her presence there. And whether my prayers be granted. Or whether she pass me by, The face of that gentle maiden Will follow me till I die. Harold Boulton. Arranged by Arthur SomerveU Oh, 'tis little Mary Cassidy's the cause of all my misery The raison that I am not now the boy I used to be ; Oh, she bates the beauties all that we read about in history, Sure half the country-side's as lost for her as me. Travel Ireland up and down — hill, village, vale and town — Gin like my " calling donn "* you'll be looking for in vain ; Oh, I'd rather live in poverty with little Mary Cassidy Than Emperor, without her, be o'er Germany or Spain. 5 (c) W Tl Tl [ A T {i 'Twasat the dance at Darmody's that first I caught a sight of her And heard her sing an Irish song, till tears came in my eyes ; And ever since that blessed hour I'm dreaming day and night of her ; The devil a wink of sleep I get from bed to rise. Her cheek, the rose of June, her song the lark in tune. Working, resting, night or noon, she never laves my mind ; Oh, till singing by my cabin fire sits little Mary Cassidy, 'Tis little aise or happiness I'm sure I ll ever find. What is wealth, or what is fame, or what is all that people fight about To the kindness of her kisses or the glancing of her eye? Oh. though troubles throng my breast, sure they'd soon go to the right-about, If I thought the curly head would nestle there by'n'bye. Take all I own to-day — kin, kith and care away. Ship them all across the say, or to the frozen zone. Lave me here an orphan bare — but O lave me Mary Cassidy, I never would feel lonesome with the two of us alone. F. H. Fahy. *Angl. " browa-haired girl," ii (c) "Clare's Dragooni" When on Ramillies' bloody field The baffled French were forc'd to yield. The victor Saxon backward reel'd Before the charge of Clare's men. The flags we conquer'd in that fray Look lone in Ypres choir, they say. We'll win them company to-day, Or bravely die like Clare's men. Vive la ! for Ireland's wrong. And vive la I for Ireland's right, Vive la t in battle throng For a Spanish steed and sword bright. Another Clare is here to lead, The worthy son of such a breed. The French expect some famous deed When Clare leads on his warriors. C. V. Stanford Our Colonel comes from Brian's race, His wounds are on his breast and face. The gap of danger's still his place — The foremost of his squadron. Vive la t for Ireland's wrong, etc. Oh ! comrades, think how Ireland pines For exiled lords and rifled shrines, — Her dearest hope the ordered lines And bursting charge of Clare's men. Then fling your green flag to the sky, Be " Limerick ! " your battle cry. And charge till blood floats fetlock|high Around the track of Clare's men. Vi V ! for Ireland's wrong, etc. Thomas Davis Coadeaied from bia " Clare's Dragoons" by Alf/ed Perceval Graves (rf) "Oh, Ye Dead" Arranged hy C. V. Stanford ( Voice of the Living) '* Oh, ye dead ! oh, ye dead I whom we know by the light you give From your cold gleaming eyes though ye move like men who live, Why leave you thus your graves, In far-off fields and waves, Where the worm and the sea-bird only know your bed. To haunt this spot where all Those eyes that wept your fall. And the hearts that wail'd you, like your own, lie dead ? " ( Voice of the Dead) " It is true, it is true, we are shadows col»l ami wan ; And the fair and llie brave whom we lov'd on earth are gone ; But still thus e'en in death, So sweet the living' breath Of the fields and the flow'rs in our youth we wander'd o'er, That ere condemn "d we g'o To freeze 'mid Hecla's snow, We would taste it awhile, and think we live once more ! " Thomas Moore. {e) "Eva Toole" Who's not heard of Eva Toole, Munster's pu'^est, proudest jewel. Queen of Lim'rick's lovely maidens, Kerry's charming girls ? As her g'liding course she takes Like a swan across the lakes, With her voice of silver cadence. And her smile of pearls ! Oh, the eyes of Eva Toole ! Now, why wouldn't Cromwell cmel Just have called two centuries later, Here on Carrig height ? For one angry azure flash From beneath her ebon lash ! — And away old Noll would scatter Out of Eva's sight. Is't describe you Eva Toole ? As she danced last night at Shrule, Her two feel like swallows skimmin' Up and down the floor. Or the courtesy that she dropped Every time the music stopped, Not the oldest man or woman Saw such grace before. Yet altho' you threw your rule O'er us all then, Eva Toole, Ne'er a one but I was in it Of all your sweethearts fine. And my heart's in such a riot. That to keep the crayture quiet, I am runnin' round this minute, Just to make you mine ! Alfred Perceval Graves 1 I C c 1 F ( f) " Remember the Poor " Arranged by C. V.Stanford Oh ! remember the poor, when your fortune is sure, And acre to acre you join ; Oh ! remember the poor, tho' but slender your store, And you ne'er can go gallant and fine. Oh ! remember the poor when they cry at your door, In the raging rain and blast. Call them in ! cheer them up with the bite and the sup. Till they leave you their blessing at last. The red fox has his lair, and each bird of the air With the night settles soft in his nest ; But the King who laid down His celestial crown For our sakes, he had nowhere to rest. Oh ! the poor were forgot till their pitiful lot He bowed Himself to endure ; If your souls ye would make, for His Heavenly sake. Oh 1 remember, remember the poor. Alfred Perceval Graves (g) "Tfottin' to The Fair" {0/(1 Air, " Trottin' to the ffiir, Me and Moll Molony, Seated, I declare, On a sinjfle po- v. How am I to know that Molly's safe behiiul, With our heads in — oh, that Awkward way inclined ? By her gentle bieathin" Whisper'd past my ear, And her white arms wreathin" Warm around me here. C. V. Stanford Will yon take a flutter") Thus on Dobbin's back I discoursed th»« darlinj!^, Till upon our track Leapeil a monj^rd snarlinR', " Ah ! " says Moll, '* I'm frightened That the pony'll start " And her lianils she tij^htened Round my happy heart ; Till I axed her, " May I Steal a kiss or so ? " And my Molly's grey eye Didn't answer " No." Alfrki) Perceval Graves (A) "Quick! We have but a Second {Old Ait, ' Quick ! we have but a second, Fill round the cup, while you may ; For Time, the churl, hath beckon'd, And we must awaj', away ! Grasp the pleasure that's flyinjf, For oh ! not Orpheus' strain Could keep sweet hours from dying, Or charm them to life again ! Then, quick ! we have but a second, Fill round the cup while you may ; For Time, the churl, hath beckon'd, And we must away, away ! Arrnnf[cd by C. V. Stanford • Paddy O'Snap ") See the glass how it flusht^s. Like some young Hebj;'s lip, And half meets thine and blushes That thou shouUI'st delay tt) sip. Shaini", oh ! shame unto thee, If e'er thou secst that day When a cup or lip shall woo thee, i^nd turn untouch'd away ! Then quick ! we have but a second, Fill round, fill round, while you may; For Time, the churl, hath beckon'd, And we must away, away ! Thomas Moore. (») "The Kilkenny Cats" .... Arranged hy C. V. Stanfura {Air, " Better Let Them Alone ") [These ferocious monsters, entering' upon a family quarrel, engaged each other with such inveterate and surprising fury, that after an encounter prolonged throughout an entire night, nothing but their tails remained upon the field of action. — Old Lk;^end.] In the dacent ould days before stockings or stays Were invented, or breeches, top-boots, and top-hats, You'd search the whole sphere from Cape Horn to Cape Clear, And never come near to the likes of our Cits. Och, tunder ! Och, tunder ! you'd wink wid the wonder To see them keep under the mice and the rats, And go wild for half-shares in the phisants and hares They pulled up the back stairs to provision our Pats. Och ! the Cats of Kilkenny, Kilkenny's wild Cats ! But the •hame and the sin of the Game Laws came in With the gun and the gin of the landlord canats, And the whole box and dice of the rats and the mice Made off in a trice from our famishing Cats. What did the beasts do ? What would I or would you ? Is it lie down and mew till we starved an our mats ? Not at all, faix I but fall, small and great, great and small, With one grand caterwaul on each other's cravats. Och ! the Cats of Kilkenny, Kilkenny's wild Cats. And that mortial night long we should hark, right or wrong, To the faste and the song of the Cannible Cats, Gladiath'rin' away till the dawn of the day In fifty-three sharps, semi-quavers, and flats ; And when we went round with the molkcarts we found, Scatthered over the ground like a sprinkle of sprats, All the rest, bit and sup, of themselves they'd ate up, Only just the tip-ends of the tails of the Cats. Och I the Cats of Kilkenny. Kilkenny's quare Cats ! Alfred Perceval Graves THE ACMK OF ARTISTIC AND MUSICIANLY EXCELLENCE Cl)t iinumn $ Co. Concert Grand Piano is used by Mr. Plunket Greene, as it is by all the world's greatest artists who come to Canada. They all gladly declare that it is a pride to Canadian musical science and express their delighted surprise that so splendid an instrument is manufactured in Canada. Head Office: 117 King St. West, Toronto Agenciks - MONTREAL OTTAWA HAMILTON LONDON WINNIPEG HALIFAX VANCOUVER I PRESS OF THK HUNTCa ROSE CO.. LIMITKO TORONTO .» / / .i ■wf' 7 €