Hess 196: альтернативная версия песни I'll praise the Saints with early song (WoO 153 №12)

Beethoven greatly simplified the accompaniment in the later version; the piano doubles the vocal line in the right hand and the bass is a simple quarter note line. In the first version, the piano has a complex figure of 16th notes off the beat shadowing the voice, and the vocal line is doubled by the string voices. In the final version, the string voices are almost irrelevant. This fits with George Thomson's stated desire to have the songs performable without the string parts; while the Hess 196 version could be performed without the string voices, a beginning vocalist might soon find herself at sea. Thomson specifically requested that the imitations which are in the piano of this version be instead given to the strings, with the piano to bear more of the melody.

I'll Praise the Saints with early Song

I'll praise the Saints with early song,
For now the wars are ended;
I'll praise our Lady late and long,
That has my Love defended.
Yes, home is come my Patrick dear,
From me no more to sever;
And in his looks, I see it clear:
He loves me more than ever.

He sits our evening fire beside,
The cabin round surveying,
And looks with all a father's pride,
While near the child is playing.
Even me he turns to gaze upon,
As in my maiden beauty,
Before my bloom was worn and gone
By many a toilsome duty.

"My Love, he cries, thou canst not guess,
"Tho'kind and tender hearted,
"What I have known of sad distress,
"Since last from thee I parted.
"And little canst thou now suppose
"How my poor heart is swelling,
"To find myself at evening's close
"In this my peaceful dwelling."

And, true - his cheek is sallow now,
That once was bright and ruddy;
A fearful scar is on his brow,
The mark of battle bloody.
And oft in sleep disturb'd he seems,
While o'er him i am bending;
He makes the cross while in his dreams,
As if for life contending.

But happier hours are coming fast,
Sir Phelim - angels bless him -
Says Patrick Toole shall rest at last,
And nothing more distress him.
He grants a farm, with turf-ground near,
He grants a lease for ever;
And heaven will bless, I need not fear,
The honest heart's endeavour.

---William Smyth