Britten: Serenade for tenor, horn & strings, Op. 31 - Pastoral - Peter Pears, Dennis Brain, New Symphony Orchestra

The day’s grown old;

the fainting sun

Has but a little way to run

And yet his steeds, with all his skill

Scarce lug the chariot down the hill

The shadows now so long do grow

That brambles like tall cedars show;

Mole hills seem mountains, and the ant

Appears a monstrous elephant

A very little, little flock

Shades thrice the ground that it would stock;

Whilst the small stripling following them

Appears a mighty Polypheme

And now on benches all are sat

In the cool air to sit and chat

Till Phoebus, dipping in the west

Shall lead the world the way to rest