The Republican journal. [volume] (Belfast, Me.) 1829-current, 1905-08-17
FAMILIAR SONGS AND THEIR AUTHORS
OFT IN THE Silly NIGHT.

OFT IN THE SILLY NIGHT.
One of the most popular OF modern
song writer's was Thomas Moore, who
not only wrote the words, but frequent
| ly composed the music. He was also
| an accomplished musician and singer,
| and has been known to sit down al the
| piano and in few minutes compose
| the words and music of song and sing
it.
Tom Moore was born up stairs over
grocery store on Angler street, Dublin,
ireland, May %, 1910. While the father
was attending to his duties down stairs
in his shop the mother devoted herself
| to taking care of babies and household
| work up stairs. She was woman OF
more than ordinary intellect and char
acter, and for her Toms love never
diminished. After the death OF both
over 4, 900 letters, written in the most
| endearing terms by him, were found
| among her papers.
His marriage to Bessie Dyke, an &C.
tress, was happy one, but much sor-
row came to him in his late years. His
eldest son turned out badly, the second
son died in youth and his only daughter
met tragic fate. She was kissing her
hand to her father as he was going
down the stairs one day, and fell over
the banister and was killed. Moore
was of the more jovial nature and ten
der hearted to the extreme. The death
of his children changed his nature and
he never after sang in public as he was
fond of doing
sOft in the Silly Night" of which
he was author and composer, he sang
with enhancing sweetness 1t has
been extensively paraded, but it never
theless remains a perfect poem and
perfect song:
Oft in the Silly night,
Ere Slumber's chain has bound me,
Fond Memory brings the light
Of other days around me;
The smiles, the tears,
Of boyhood's years,
The words of love then spoken;
The yes that shone,
Now dimmed and gone,
The cheerful hearts now broken.
Thus in the Silly night,
Ere Slumber's chain has bound me,
Sad Memory brings the light
OF other days around me.
When remember all
The friends so linked together
I've seen around me fall,
Like leaves in Wlntry weather,
| feel like one
Who treads alone
Some banquet hall deserted,
Whose lights are fled,
Whose garlands dead,
And all but he departed.
Thus in the Silly night,
Ere Slumber's chain has bound me,
Sad Memory brings the light
OF other days around me.
ROLL ON, SILVER MOON.
The words of this we'll known song
are old, of probable English origin, but
the melody was composed by Joseph
w. Turner, who was born in Berlin,
July 9, 1918. He began life as work
man in type foundry, but excessively
fond of music devoted every spare min
ute to it's study. He finally became
music teacher and became a popular
composer of vocal and instrumental
music, for many years being musical
editor of the Waverly Magazine. A
volume of his compositions has appear
ed under the title of 'The Minstrels
Gift"
An incident in connection with the
song is told of the escape of party of
Union soldiers from a Confederate
stockade at Tyler, Tex, during the war.
A tunnel had been partially completed
when news reached the prisoners that
General Banks was within hundred
miles. The adventurous boys decided
that the tunnel route was too tedious
to complete, SO they undermined one OF
the logs that formed portion of the
high fence, and one rainy night they
fastened a rope around it. Some of
their comrades gathered in a distant
portion of the grounds and just as the
rope was drawn in and the men dashed
| through the opening there was rift in
| the clouds through which the moon
shown brightly, and these words rang
out in the night air and attracted the
attention of the guards to that part of
| the encampment:
''Roll on, silver moon,
Guide the traveller on his way
The words of the entire song are as
| follows:
AS l strayed from my cot at the close Of
the day,
Mid the ravishing beauties OF June
| Meath a iessamine shade | espied a fair
| And she plaintively sgh'd to the moon.
| Chorus
Roll on, silver moon, guide the traveller on
When the nightingale's song is in tune;
| | never more with my true love will stray
| BY thy soft silver beams, gentle moon.
| As the hart on the mountain my lover was
| brave,
| So noble and manly and clever,