The Rational Argumentator

The song is my musical setting of a Tennyson lyric that appears in his long poem The Princess (1847). Those much-loved verses, which I have presented at the very bottom of this post, have been described as “a summons to the valleys of domestic affection, away from the heights of idealism and abstraction.”

MP3 file for piano rendition (left-click to listen, right-click to download): “Come Down, O Maid”

Length: 4:46

If the reader is looking at my lyrics here while listening, it should be borne in mind that, because the vocal part is also represented by a piano sound, in a couple of sections it is harder to distinguish the two aurally:

Away below the frozen mountain

Deep in the valley was a shepherd,

And he sang:

Come down, O maid, come from yonder mountain:

What pleasure lives in height and cold? Come down, and cease

To sit a star on the sparkling spire.

Love is of the valley, O come thou down

And find him there,

Hand in hand with Plenty;

Nor cares for Death and Morning on the silver horns,

Nor firths of ice, furrow-cloven falls;

Let them dance thee do-own

To find him there.

(Transitional musical passage)

O maid, come down;

Leave the monstrous ledges

To spill their wreaths

That like a broken purpose waste:

So waste not thou;

All the vales await thee-ee;

Azure pillars arise to thee.

My shepherd pipe, children too, are calling,

Sweeter thy voice, but every sound is sweet;

The rivulets so clear hur’ying through the la-awn,

The moan of doves,

And murmuring of innumerable bees.

The maiden lived in splendoured height

And deep in the valley there the shepherd

Sang to her.

© 2011 Rodney Rawlings

Here are Tennyson’s actual verses:

COME down, O maid, from yonder mountain height:

What pleasure lives in height (the shepherd sang),

In height and cold, the splendour of the hills?

But cease to move so near the Heavens, and cease

To glide a sunbeam by the blasted Pine,

To sit a star upon the sparkling spire;

And come, for Love is of the valley, come,

For Love is of the valley, come thou down

And find him; by the happy threshold, he,

Or hand in hand with Plenty in the maize,

Or red with spirted purple of the vats,

Or foxlike in the vine; nor cares to walk

With Death and Morning on the silver horns,

Nor wilt thou snare him in the white ravine,

Nor find him dropt upon the firths of ice,

That huddling slant in furrow-cloven falls

To roll the torrent out of dusky doors:

But follow; let the torrent dance thee down

To find him in the valley; let the wild

Lean-headed Eagles yelp alone, and leave

The monstrous ledges there to slope, and spill

Their thousand wreaths of dangling water-smoke,

That like a broken purpose waste in air:

So waste not thou; but come; for all the vales

Await thee; azure pillars of the hearth

Arise to thee; the children call, and I

Thy shepherd pipe, and sweet is every sound,

Sweeter thy voice, but every sound is sweet;

Myriads of rivulets hurrying thro’ the lawn,

The moan of doves in immemorial elms,

And murmuring of innumerable bees.

As can be seen, this stunningly beautiful work was freely adapted to form the lyrics of my song. As well, I composed a musical framing theme providing context for the thoughts and feelings expressed.

Rodney Rawlings is a Toronto writer and composer/songwriter. He arrived at the concept of hypercomplex numbers independently, using Ayn Rand’s philosophy of Objectivism to guide him.  See his YouTube Channel.