- Born, Gunthard
Mozarts Musiksprache: Schlussel zu Leben und Werk
Kindler Verlag, , 1985, Cloth, , , Very Good /Good
423 pp. Wear to the extremities of the dj. With a forward by Wolfgang Plath editor of numerous volumes of the Neuen Mozart-Ausgabe. Contents: Vorwort; ERSTES BUCH: Die Szene: 1. O Engländer, seid ihr nicht Toren, 2. Viva la libertà!, 3. Königin der Nacht, 4. Ein Schloss vor den Mund, 5. Was von Mozart kommt, wird den Böhmen gewiss gefallen, Deutsch zu reden und gar deutsch zu singen, 7. Alla gloria militar!, 9. Die Zeit de guten Musik ist vorbei, 10. Moduliert so durch die Töne fort; ZWEITES BUCH: Die Sprache: 1. Ein grosser Meister der Modulation, 2. O wie ängstlich, o wie feurig, 3. Vorhang auf, 4. Doch niemand kommt, 5. Hast's verstanden? 6. Nur geschwinde!, 7. Wir andelten durch Feuergluten, 8. Ich will selbst den Herren machen, 9. Amore, 10. Sagt, ist es liebe?, Und ich soll dir Liebe meiden? 12. Tod und Verzweiflung, 13. Der listigen Schlange zum Opfer erkoren, 14. Dir Lippe lügt, falsch ist der Blick, 15. Den Weg der Tugend fortzuwandeln, 16. Auf Wiedersehn; LITERATURVERZEICHNIS; ANHANG, Nachwort. Second book illustrated with musical examples.
"Woman, the New Factor in Economics." by Rev. Augusta Cooper Bristol. from The Congress of Women: Held in the Woman's Building, World's Columbian Exposition, Chicago, U. S. A., 1893.. Chicago, ILL: Monarch Book Company, 1894. pp. pp. 80-86. at The Celebration of Women Writers, University of Pennsylvania Digital Library
"Rev. Augusta Cooper Bristol is a native of New Hampshire. She was born April 17,1835. Her parents were Otis Cooper and Hannah (Powers) Cooper. In 1866 she married Louis Bristol, a lawyer of Connecticut. She is a woman of big brain, well stored with valuable information, and one of the most graceful and profound writers and speakers of the present day. Her principal literary works are a volume of poems and various published lectures, some of which have been translated into French. She is a member of no special church at present, but in faith is Unitarian, and not infrequently speaks from the pulpit. Her postoffice address is Vineland, N. Y." Augusta Bristol [1835-1910]
Roar, raging torrent! and thou, mighty river! Pour your white foam on the valley below; Frown, ye dark mountains! and shadow forever The deep rocky bed where the wild rapids flow. The green sunny glade, and the smooth flowing fountain, Brighten the home of the coward and slave; The flood and the forest, the rock and the mountain, Rear on their bosoms the free and the brave. Nurselings of nature, I mark your bold bearing, Pride in each aspect and strength in each form; Hearts of warm impulse and souls of high daring, Born in the battle and reared in the storm. The red levin flash and the thunder's dread rattle, The rock-riven wave, and the war-trumpets breath, The din of the tempest, the yell of the battle, Nerve your steeled bosoms to danger and death. High on the brow of the Alps' snowy towers, The mountain Swiss measures his rock-breasted moors, O'er his lone cottage the avalanche lowers, Round its rude portal the spring torrent pours. Sweet is his sleep amid peril and danger, Warm is his greeting to kindred and friends; Open his hand to the poor and the stranger, Stern on his foeman his sabre descends. Lo! where the tempest the dark waters sunder Slumbers the sailor boy, reckless and brave, Warmed by the lightning, and lulled by the thunder, Fanned by the whirlwind and rocked by the wave; Wildly the winter wind howls round his pillow, Cold on his bosom the spray showers fall; Creaks the strained mast at the rush of the billow, Peaceful he slumbers, regardless of all. Mark how the cheek of the warrior flushes, As the battle-drum beats and the war torches glare, Like a blast of the north to the onset he rushes, And his wide-waving falchion gleams brightly in air. Around him the death-shot of foemen are flying, At his feet friends and comrades are yielding their breath; He strikes to the groans of the wounded and dying, But the war-cry he strikes with is "conquest or death!" Then pour thy broad wave like a flood from the heavens, Each son that thou rearest, in the battle's wild shock, When the death-speaking note of the trumpet is given, Will charge like thy torrent, or stand like thy rock. Let his roof be the cloud, and the rock be his pillow, Let him stride the rough mountain, or toss on the foam, He shall strike fast and well, on the field or the billow, In triumph and glory, for God and his home!Joseph Rodman Drake