Song Cycle by Frederick Jacobi (1891-1952)

1. The Faery Isle of Janjira

Authorship

by Sarojini Naidu, née Chattopadhyaya (1879-1949) , "The Faery Isle of Janjira", from The Bird of Time - Songs of Life, Death, and the Spring, published 1912

     To Her Highness Nazli Raffia, Begum of JanjiraFain would I dwell in your faery kingdom,

O faery queen of a flowering clime, 
Where life glides by to a delicate measure, 
With the glamour and grace of a far-off time. 

Fain would I dwell where your wild doves wander, 
Your palm-woods burgeon and sea-winds sing...  
Lulled by the rune of the rhythmic waters, 
In your Island of Bliss it is always spring. 

Yet must I go where the loud world beckons, 
And the urgent drum-beat of destiny calls, 
Far from your white dome's luminous slumber, 
Far from the dream of your fortress walls, 

Into the strife of the throng and the tumult, 
The war of sweet Love against folly and wrong; 
Where brave hearts carry the sword of battle, 
'Tis mine to carry the banner of song, 

The solace of faith to the lips that falter, 
The succour of hope to the hands that fail. 
The tidings of joy when Peace shall triumph, 
When Truth shall conquer and Love prevail.

2. In the night

Authorship

by Sarojini Naidu, née Chattopadhyaya (1879-1949) , "In the night", from The Bird of Time - Songs of Life, Death, and the Spring, published 1912

Sleep, my little ones, sleep, 
Safe till the daylight be breaking ... 
We have long vigils to keep, 
Harvests to sow while you sleep,
Fair for the hour of your waking, 
Ripe for your sickles to reap.

Sleep, my little ones, sleep, 
Yours is the golden To-morrow, 
Yours are the hands that will reap 
Dreams that we sow while you sleep, 
Fed with our hope and our sorrow, 
Rich with the tears that we weep.

3. Love and Death

Authorship

by Sarojini Naidu, née Chattopadhyaya (1879-1949) , "Love and Death", from The Bird of Time - Songs of Life, Death, and the Spring, published 1912

I dreamed my love had set thy spirit free, 
Enfranchised thee from Fate's overmastering power, 
And girt thy being with a scatheless dower 
Of rich and joyous immortality;
O Love, I dreamed my soul had ransomed thee, 
In thy lone, dread, incalculable hour 
From those pale hands at which all mortals cower, 
And conquered Death by Love, like Savitri. 
When I awoke, alas, my love was vain 
E'en to annul one throe of destined pain, 
Or by one heart-beat to prolong thy breath;
O Love, alas, that love could not assuage 
The burden of thy human heritage, 
Or save thee from the swift decrees of Death.

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