email from JKS Weerasekera
Song of Lanka.
Have you heard it?
Rev. W.S. Senior. Born ? 1887? In Marlborough, Arrived
in Ceylon in 1906.
PS
'Song of Lanka' is sung as a hymn in the Protestant Churches of present Sri Lanka.
The tune is the same as the Sinhalese soing 'Danno Budunge'. You can try singing it.
Philip G V
Response from JKS Weerasekera
Response from JKS Weerasekera
Origin
of Danno budunge tune.
I have checked up with St. John’s College, Jaffna. Their college hymn ( not
anthem) ‘was
created with words rooted in ‘Song of Lanka’ by Rev.Senior with Devar
Suriyasena coordinating around 1950. The song is from John De Silva’
Rev.Senior
died in 1936 in the UK.
Siri Sangabo where the tune is first heard of was
performed in 1903.
Musician
Viswanath Laugi came to Ceylon to do the music.
John
De Silva knew his music at the hghest level and composed words. My uncle
in Maradana was expert at the Seraphina and had been involved with John De
Silva from around 1910 or earlier.
It is possible that Viswanath created the tune, but other songs in the play
like ‘ Suwanda pathma olu aadi, noyeka pushpayen…’ are very similar in
the raga. Viswanath though mentioned as the man who made the tune may have just
polished it up.
However for certain Dudley Perera- son of that uncle of
mine heard the tune in high pitch at a church in Norway in 1982 in the city
called ‘oil city’- Stavanger. How did it get there?
If
anyone can give a source earlier than 1903?? Till then we will stick to the
Lankan origin.
Claims
are made of Richard Wagner or Mendelsohn, or even Thelma Kai in Hawai -1920s or
from Scotland being the creator of the music.
At
present seems the source was nurthy tunes in Sri Lanka, brought to our(
western) notice in 1903 with the play Siri Sangabo.
With
the news from St. Johns Jaffna (an old hymnal) that the tune is from John
De Silva, seems the tune spread from Sri Lanka due to Rev. W.S. Senior>( St.
Johns thru Devar Suryasena) Sri Lankan churches> countries abroad.
Senior left Sri Lanka about 1919 due to ill health.
jksw
Iheard from an old Trinitian that the remains of Rev Senior are buried at St Andrews church, ?Haputhale. Needs investigation.
PGV
Here is
good reading.
He
solemnized the marriage of George e De Silva-
Ape George
Ape George
And far
more importantly wrote song
of Lanka given below.
Pity I
never read it in school. His is so much than those other British poets.
Rev. W.S.
Senior. Born ? 1887? In Marlborough, Arrived in Ceylon in 1906.
.
Reverend Senior came out to Sri Lanka (then Ceylon) in 1906, and
served as Vice Principal of Trinity for a decade. When
the then Principal of Trinity, Rev. A. G. Fraser,
was looking for talent in the English Universities which he could enlist into
service at Trinity College, Kandy, he came across Senior who formed one of a
brilliant set of men, including the late Dr. Kenneth Saunders from Emmanuel
College, Cambridge,
N. P. Campbell, also a Balliol man, who was recognised as a great scientist,
and J. P. R. Gibson, later Principal of Ridley Hall, Cambridge. In the absence
of Rev Fraser, Senior also deputised as Acting Principal for a short period.
Trinity emerged as a public school with a scholastic reputation
with the appointment of Mr. Senior. His earliest students included two
University Scholars, Mr. L. M. D. de Silva, KC, and Mr. J. L.
C. Rodrigo, who succeeded him as Classical Lecturer at
the University College. Many of
his pupils adorned various walks of life but several times that number
cherishes the memory of a beautiful character.
A little known fact during his stay is Kandy was his role in the
marriage of Mr. George
E. de Silva, which was solemnised in 1909 at St. Paul's Church,
Kandy. The marriage, to Miss. Agnes Nell from a very conservative Dutch family
was opposed by many to the point that The Vicar refused to marry them, and it
was left to Rev. W.S. Senior to solemnise the marriage.[9]
A portrait of Rev Senior by David Paynter,
also a Trinitian, hangs in the Trinity College Library.
The Call of Lanka
I climbed o’er the crags of Lanka
And gazed on the golden sea
When out from her ancient places,
Her soul came forth to me;
"Give me a bard,” said Lanka,
“A bard of the things to be.”
And gazed on the golden sea
When out from her ancient places,
Her soul came forth to me;
"Give me a bard,” said Lanka,
“A bard of the things to be.”
“My cities are laid in ruins,
Their courts through the jungle spread,
My scepter is long departed
And the stranger lord instead.
Yet, give me a bard,” said Lanka.
“I am living, I am not dead.”
Their courts through the jungle spread,
My scepter is long departed
And the stranger lord instead.
Yet, give me a bard,” said Lanka.
“I am living, I am not dead.”
“For high in my highland valleys,
And low in my lowland plains,
The pride of the past is pulsing
Hot in a people’s veins.
Give me a bard,” said Lanka,
“A bard for my joys and pains.”
And low in my lowland plains,
The pride of the past is pulsing
Hot in a people’s veins.
Give me a bard,” said Lanka,
“A bard for my joys and pains.”
I offer a voice O Lanka,
I, child of an alien Isle;
For my heart has heard thee and kindled,
Mine eyes have seen thee and smiled;
Take, foster mother, and use it,
‘Tis but for a little while.
I, child of an alien Isle;
For my heart has heard thee and kindled,
Mine eyes have seen thee and smiled;
Take, foster mother, and use it,
‘Tis but for a little while.
For, surely of thine own children,
Born of thy womb, shall rise
The bard of the moonlit jungle,
The bard of the tropic skies,
Warm from his mother’s bosom,
Bright from his mother’s eyes.
Born of thy womb, shall rise
The bard of the moonlit jungle,
The bard of the tropic skies,
Warm from his mother’s bosom,
Bright from his mother’s eyes.
He shall hymn thee of hoar Sri Pada,
The peak that is lone and tall.
He shall sing with her crags, Dunhinda,
The smoking waterfall.
Whatsoever is fair in Lanka,
He shall know it and love it all.
The peak that is lone and tall.
He shall sing with her crags, Dunhinda,
The smoking waterfall.
Whatsoever is fair in Lanka,
He shall know it and love it all.
He shall sing thee of sheer Sigiriya,
Of Minneria’s wandering kine;
He shall sing of the lake and the lotus,
He shall sing of the rock-hewn shrine,
Whatsoever is old in Lanka,
Shall live in his Lordly line.
Of Minneria’s wandering kine;
He shall sing of the lake and the lotus,
He shall sing of the rock-hewn shrine,
Whatsoever is old in Lanka,
Shall live in his Lordly line.
But most shall he sing of Lanka
In the bright new days that come.
When the races all have blended
And the voice of strife is dumb
When we leap to a single bugle,
March to a single drum.
In the bright new days that come.
When the races all have blended
And the voice of strife is dumb
When we leap to a single bugle,
March to a single drum.
March to a mighty purpose,
One man from shore to shore;
The stranger, becomes a brother,
The task of the tutor o’er,
When the ruined city rises
And the palace gleams once more.
One man from shore to shore;
The stranger, becomes a brother,
The task of the tutor o’er,
When the ruined city rises
And the palace gleams once more.
Hark! Bard of the fateful future,
Hark! Bard of the bright to be;
A voice on the verdant mountains,
A voice by the golden sea.
Rise, child of Lanka, and answer
Thy mother hath called to thee.
Hark! Bard of the bright to be;
A voice on the verdant mountains,
A voice by the golden sea.
Rise, child of Lanka, and answer
Thy mother hath called to thee.
A Hymn for Ceylon
Jehovah, Thou hast promised
The isles shall wait for Thee;
The joyous isles of Ocean,
The jewels of the sea ;
The isles shall wait for Thee;
The joyous isles of Ocean,
The jewels of the sea ;
Lo ! we, this island's watchmen,
Would give and take no rest,
(For thus hast Thou commanded,)
Till our dear land be blessed.
Would give and take no rest,
(For thus hast Thou commanded,)
Till our dear land be blessed.
Then bless her, mighty Father,
With blessings needed most,
In every verdant village,
By every palmy coast ;
With blessings needed most,
In every verdant village,
By every palmy coast ;
On every soaring mountain
O er every spreading plain.
May all her sons and daughters
Thy righteousness attain.
O er every spreading plain.
May all her sons and daughters
Thy righteousness attain.
Give peace within her borders,
Twixt man and man goodwill,
The love all unsuspicious,
The love that works no ill;
Twixt man and man goodwill,
The love all unsuspicious,
The love that works no ill;
In loyal, lowly service
Let each from other learn,
The guardian and the guarded,
Till Christ Himself return.
Let each from other learn,
The guardian and the guarded,
Till Christ Himself return.
To Him our land shall listen,
To Him our land shall kneel,
All rule be on His shoulder.
All wrong beneath His heel;
To Him our land shall kneel,
All rule be on His shoulder.
All wrong beneath His heel;
Oh consummation glorious,
Which now by faith we sing;
Come, cast we up the highway
That brings us back the King.
Which now by faith we sing;
Come, cast we up the highway
That brings us back the King.
Farewell to Lanka (an excerpt from Rev
Senior's last poem)
I pass, but Thou, forever Thou remainest,
Lord yet to-be of all the lure of Lanka,
Blood from her heart, high Blossom of the ages.
O Star; O Sun of all the magic distance,
All the green palm-lands setting into Ocean.
All the far dream-blue diadem of mountains.
All the lone mares of pelican and egret;
Kingly unrippled Nuwara Wewa watching.
Silver itself, Mahinda’s ridge of silver.
All the high rocks, the forest-ruin rising,
Storied and still, throughout a marvel-isle
From Trincomalee to Tissamaharama:
Kindling all these, by these to passion kindled,
Deep to their deep, a death-less Music calling,
Mould thou the songs that mould a noble people.
Peace shall be Thine; but mine is holy torment.
Knowing I know not half the lore of Lanka
Land of heart’s longing
Lord yet to-be of all the lure of Lanka,
Blood from her heart, high Blossom of the ages.
O Star; O Sun of all the magic distance,
All the green palm-lands setting into Ocean.
All the far dream-blue diadem of mountains.
All the lone mares of pelican and egret;
Kingly unrippled Nuwara Wewa watching.
Silver itself, Mahinda’s ridge of silver.
All the high rocks, the forest-ruin rising,
Storied and still, throughout a marvel-isle
From Trincomalee to Tissamaharama:
Kindling all these, by these to passion kindled,
Deep to their deep, a death-less Music calling,
Mould thou the songs that mould a noble people.
Peace shall be Thine; but mine is holy torment.
Knowing I know not half the lore of Lanka
Land of heart’s longing
Goodbye
So you’ve had enough of the tropics, and the back is growing
bent
And the heart is not so buoyant, and it’s time you packed and went
You’re tired of wayside squatters, you’re tired of the spitting host
Of the fatal red on the pavement, of the chunam white on the post
Of the food that does not feed you, of the breeze that does not brace
Of the lawless platform lawyer all out to scratch your face
And the friends you had are all scattered, the friends who cared and knew
And a newer race is rising with never a use for you
And — yes you’re tired of the Tropics and you’d better pack and go
To the haunts and the hearths of the homeland, to the fields and folk you know
Yet, o my soul remember, when you’ve sailed the seas away
And the English climate’s chilly and the English clouds are grey
When the birds are sad and silent, and the sun is seldom seen
And life is miles of houses with miles of mud between
You will see in a sudden vision, you will see with a sudden sigh
The scarlet splashed flamboyant awash in the azure sky
You will see Anuradhapura and the old kings’ bathing pool
And the shadowy blue king-fisher, the carven granite cool
And the pass of Haputale and the lowland flat and far
And through Gravillea feathers, the rosy evening star
And the moon-besilvered jungle, the dipping magic cross
Mid steady balm in-blowing from the silver foam and floss
And better than places — faces, the Aryan face (your own)
With its brown and olive beauty, the youths and maids you’ve known
And the tender pearl of India in the black and brilliant eye
My soul, you will break with longing — it can never be Goodbye.
And the heart is not so buoyant, and it’s time you packed and went
You’re tired of wayside squatters, you’re tired of the spitting host
Of the fatal red on the pavement, of the chunam white on the post
Of the food that does not feed you, of the breeze that does not brace
Of the lawless platform lawyer all out to scratch your face
And the friends you had are all scattered, the friends who cared and knew
And a newer race is rising with never a use for you
And — yes you’re tired of the Tropics and you’d better pack and go
To the haunts and the hearths of the homeland, to the fields and folk you know
Yet, o my soul remember, when you’ve sailed the seas away
And the English climate’s chilly and the English clouds are grey
When the birds are sad and silent, and the sun is seldom seen
And life is miles of houses with miles of mud between
You will see in a sudden vision, you will see with a sudden sigh
The scarlet splashed flamboyant awash in the azure sky
You will see Anuradhapura and the old kings’ bathing pool
And the shadowy blue king-fisher, the carven granite cool
And the pass of Haputale and the lowland flat and far
And through Gravillea feathers, the rosy evening star
And the moon-besilvered jungle, the dipping magic cross
Mid steady balm in-blowing from the silver foam and floss
And better than places — faces, the Aryan face (your own)
With its brown and olive beauty, the youths and maids you’ve known
And the tender pearl of India in the black and brilliant eye
My soul, you will break with longing — it can never be Goodbye.
Reverend Senior came out to Sri Lanka (then Ceylon) in 1906, and
served as Vice Principal of Trinity for a decade. When the then Principal of
Trinity, Rev. A. G.
Fraser, was looking for talent in the English Universities which he
could enlist into service at Trinity College, Kandy, he came across Senior who
formed one of a brilliant set of men, including the late Dr. Kenneth Saunders
from Emmanuel College, Cambridge,
N. P. Campbell, also a Balliol man, who was recognised as a great scientist,
and J. P. R. Gibson, later Principal of Ridley Hall, Cambridge. In the absence
of Rev Fraser, Senior also deputised as Acting Principal for a short period.
Trinity emerged as a public school with a scholastic reputation
with the appointment of Mr. Senior. His earliest students included two
University Scholars, Mr. L. M. D. de Silva, KC, and Mr. J. L.
C. Rodrigo, who succeeded him as Classical Lecturer at the University College.
Many of his pupils adorned various walks of life but several times that number
cherishes the memory of a beautiful character.
A little known fact during his stay is Kandy was his role in the
marriage of Mr. George
E. de Silva, which was solemnised in 1909 at St. Paul's Church,
Kandy. The marriage, to Miss. Agnes Nell from a very conservative Dutch family
was opposed by many to the point that The Vicar refused to marry them, and it
was left to Rev. W.S. Senior to solemnise the marriage.[9]
A portrait of Rev Senior by David Paynter,
also a Trinitian, hangs in the Trinity College Library.
Rev Senior assumed duties as Vicar of Christ Church, Galle Face, in 1916 and
continued in this post until 1919.[10] Not only was he a great
scholar and moulder of youth, but he was also an arresting preacher. The
spirituality of his countenance and the beauty of his voice with its cultured
tones enhanced the appeal of able thoughts and striking utterance. He was one
of the pioneer slum-workers and carried on a mission in Slave Island for
many years.
Mr. Senior's interest in educational work prompted him to accept
the post of first Registrar of the University
College and lecturer in Classics, but the material aspects of
office and security had no appeal whatever to a man of his fine sensibilities.
He was also the personal tutor of James P
Obeysekere, and lived with the family in Reid Avenue while teaching
at University College.
Having spent the greater part of his life in the service of Sri
Lanka, his comparatively early death was due to rigorous tropical conditions
undermining a not very robust frame. He retired to England, and one of his
greatest desires, namely, to see Ceylon and some of his numerous friends before
his death, was gratified when he was able to spend a short holiday in the
Island two years before his death, (in 1936) already a very sick man who knew
that the end was not far off.
Some of his decisions at the important cross-roads of his life
could only have been taken by one who never lacked the courage of his
convictions. A career in government service with the prospect of a pension
before him were no deterrents to the simple notion that he would like to live
with his wife and children. But always there was at his heart-strings a tug
towards the land of his adoption. In a letter to a friend, written a few months
before his death, he said: “The idea has come to me that I should like my
ashes, for I contemplate cremation rather than burial, to be interred in St.
Andrew’s Churchyard, Haputale.” His gravestone at St Andrew’s is a testament to
his life, bearing the plain legend He Loved Ceylon preceded by
the opening lines from his poem, Lanka from Pidurutalagala: Here
I stand in spirit, as in body once I stood Long years ago, in love with all the
land, This peerless land of beauty's plenitude.[11] The pulpit of the Trinity
College Chapel is dedicated to his name.
Rev Senior Married Miss Ethel May Poole, daughter of Bishop
Poole – the first Church of
England Bishop in Japan – in 1907. He had two sons one of whom
was a member of the African Civil Service, and two daughters.
Senior was a fine classical scholar with a remarkable gift for
conveying his own enthusiasm for the best in literature to those who were
privileged to be his students. In the opinion of good judges he was the best
English poet Sri Lanka has produced – for though he wrote when at Marlborough
and Balliol, his best work was done in Sri Lanka and for Sri Lanka (then
Ceylon). A book of his verse was published under the title Vita
Magistra (1937). A common vein in many of his finest pieces is an
appreciation of the diversity and beauty that is Sri Lanka. Rev Senior also has
the distinction of being the author of the famousHymn for Ceylon as
well as the Hymn
of Trinity College, Kandy and that of St. John's College,
Jaffna.[12] His
best known work however is the soul-stirring epic titled The Call of
Lanka, which many consider to be arguably the finest poem dealing with Sri
Lanka ever written.[13]
· Pisgah, or The Choice 1914
(Blackwell)
· Vita-magistra: Occasional verse 1937,
reprinted 1983 (Colombo)
