It was another frosty morning, with a brisk northerly wind, and although the clouds swept over the sky at fairly frequent intervals, sometimes dropping a light dusting of tiny particles of snow and ice as they passed, there were some beautifully bright moments in between, which lit up the landscape for a short time.
Algy found himself a soft perch and gazed out at the long, dark shadows stretching all the way across the neighbouring croft. They seemed to be pointing at the illuminated snow-capped mountains of the Isle of Rum in the distance, and the enchanting view reminded him of some lines in a beautiful old song – a VERY old song – and he hummed quietly to himself "Look how the snowy mountains, Heaven’s sun doth gently waste".
Algy reflected that although the northern winter could certainly be beautiful to look at, it was also harsh, especially for the elderly and infirm, and he knew that some of his friends were mourning the loss of dear relatives and friends, for there are many who pass when temperatures fall and the sun sinks low in the sky.
So Algy dedicates this post and this beautiful early English Air especially to those friends who have lost loved ones and are thinking of them now:
Weep you no more, sad fountains; What need you flow so fast? Look how the snowy mountains Heaven’s sun doth gently waste. But my sun’s heavenly eyes View not your weeping, That now lie sleeping Softly, now softly lies Sleeping. Sleep is a reconciling, A rest that peace begets. Doth not the sun rise smiling When fair at even he sets? Rest you then, rest, sad eyes, Melt not in weeping While she lies sleeping Softly, now softly lies Sleeping.
[Algy is singing Weep you no more, sad fountains from The Third and Last Booke of Songs or Aires. Composed to sing to the Lute by the late 16th/early 17th century English composer and lutenist John Dowland.]
And for those who enjoy early music and would like to hear this beautiful song in a roughly authentic version, here is a lovely performance by Paul Agnew and Christopher Wilson:
