Beethoven, late string quartets
Perhaps because it seems to be true that one often likes best the first performance or recording one hears, I have always liked best these performances — among the many available — of Beethoven’s six last string quartets, performed by the Hungarian String Quartet.
— posted by Roger W. Smith
Biographical Sketch of Theodore Dreiser
Theodore Dreiser (b. 27 August 1871 in Terre Haute, Indiana; d. 28 Dec 1945 in Los Angeles) was the eighth in a family of nine children. His father, Johann Paul Dreiser, was an immigrant from Prussia who operated a woolen mill in Sullivan, Indiana before the business went bad. His mother, Sarah Marie Schänäb, from whom Dreiser was said to have inherited a dreamy and romantic nature, was of Moravian descent.
The Dreiser family was one that might be called dysfunctional (or at least, nearly dysfunctional) today. The parents sometimes lived apart, with some children living with one parent and the rest with the other, for economic reasons. The family often relocated. Several siblings left home early and were involved in activities that were not quite proper: affairs, unwanted pregnancies, and (in the case of a brother or two) petty crime.
The oldest child in the family, Paul Dresser (he changed his last name) became a performer in a minstrel troupe and eventually a successful songwriter.
Theodore Dreiser was educated in Catholic schools at an early age. He rebelled against his Catholic upbringing — his father was (in Dreiser’s view) fanatically religious — and against his father’s authoritarian ways. At a later age, he was placed in the public schools, where he thrived and had a couple of teachers who greatly encouraged him. One of these teachers made it possible through a bequest for Dreiser to attend college for a year.
With the exception of a year spent at Indiana University, which does not seem to have made a significant impact on him, Dreiser spent most of his late teenage years in Chicago. A couple of sisters had moved there, either to work or because of romantic involvements. Dreiser followed, and eventually most of the Dreiser family relocated there, briefly.
While in Chicago, Dreiser worked at menial and low-paying jobs, as is detailed in his autobiography. He had strong romantic and sexual urges, but at this point was very insecure with women. He was overwhelmed with the raw power and up and coming-ness of Chicago, and yearned to make something of himself.
Through his reading of newspaper columnist Eugene Field, Dreiser began to dream of becoming a writer himself. He had a temporary job in the business department of a Chicago newspaper, and he later began to hang out at the offices of the Chicago Globe, one of the city’s less prestigious papers (and therefore thought to perhaps be an easier place to land a position). He got an assignment, finally, by dint of dogged persistence (just being there) and by serendipity got a big scoop. He was hired by the paper and quickly blossomed as a writer of colorful news stories, crime stories, exposés, and the like. He was both intrepid reporter and colorful writer of news stories that read like novelettes.
Dreiser’s stature in the newsroom rose quickly. He was given a letter of recommendation to the St. Louis Globe-Democrat, a much better newspaper, one with a national reputation. He spent about a year and a half as a reporter for the Globe-Democrat and the St. Louis Republic, writing stories that still read well today. Also important for Dreiser in St. Louis was the development of his aesthetic sensibilities, through friendships he made with colleagues who had artistic pretensions.
Dreiser’s restlessness impelled him inevitably to move eastward. (The initial impetus was a short-lived, failed venture with a friend to start a country newspaper in Ohio.) He worked for newspapers in Ohio and Pittsburgh, gradually working his way to New York, where he dreamed of becoming a reporter for a big time paper. In Ohio, he made a very important friendship with Toledo Blade city editor Arthur Henry, himself an aspiring novelist, who encouraged Dreiser to write. In Pittsburgh, besides working as a freelance reporter, he read avidly in the public library and became immersed in the novels of Balzac and the writings of the English social philosopher Herbert Spencer (in Spencer’s First Principles).
Spencer’s works greatly influenced Dreiser, impelling him towards a mechanistic or deterministic worldview which he adopted and which is evidenced in his works.
Dreiser eventually made his way to New York City, where his brother Paul, who had become a successful songwriter and music publisher, and his sister Emma, who had basically eloped to New York several years before in a case which would provide the factual underpinnings for Sister Carrie, were both living. Dreiser got a few freelance assignments as a reporter for the New York World, but his newspaper career was basically over. Shortly thereafter, Dreiser embarked on an editorial career which began with the editorship of Ev’ry Month, a magazine published by Howley, Haviland, his brother Paul’s music firm. Ev’ry Month was basically an outlet for publishing sheet music, but it contained an editor’s column wherein Dreiser as editor had free rein to express his views and write pretty much what he wanted, including the occasional poem.
Dreiser left Ev’ry Month in around September 1897. He spent the next five years or so as a freelance magazine writer. He was very good at it. His output was considerable (he occasionally borrowed from his own previous work or that of others) and he could write on a wide variety of topics, from the most pedestrian account of some industry or practice (apple growing, say) to a celebrity profile. He sometimes collaborated on story ideas and articles with Arthur Henry, who had moved to Manhattan. Henry had already encouraged Dreiser to write fiction. In large part because of Henry’s prodding (to get him started at least), Dreiser wrote five short stories in the summer of 1899. He began publishing poems in periodicals. And, in the fall of 1899, again at Henry’s prodding, he began a novel, Sister Carrie.
On an assignment for the St. Louis Republic in 1893, Dreiser met his future wife, Sara White. A long courtship ensued. They were married in December 1898. Dreiser seems to have married Jug, as she was called, largely out of a sense of obligation or at least with some reservations. The marriage did not prosper. In fact, in its early years, the couple was often separated.
Sister Carrie was published by Doubleday, Page, and Company in November 1900. The company, which had accepted the novel in part because of an enthusiastic report from Frank Norris, a reader for Doubleday, almost reneged on its agreement to publish the book. It was not marketed aggressively, and sales were paltry. Dreiser himself later helped (in an article published in 1931) to foster the belief that Doubleday had tried to suppress the novel because of its immoral content. There is still controversy about what actually happened.
Right after Sister Carrie’s publication, Dreiser started another novel, Jennie Gerhardt, which he would abandon and not complete until approximately a decade later. Meanwhile, the scant notice that Sister Carrie received and its low sales seem to have depressed him. Dreiser’s freelance magazine output dropped and he went into a period of decline during which he was mostly unemployed, rootless, living a nomadic life, and thought to be suffering from neurasthenia. His brother Paul helped him to get on his feet again, and he worked for a while at a menial job on the New York Central Railroad, which restored his health and spirits.
From around 1905 to 1910, Dreiser pursued an editorial career, rising to a highly paid position as an editor with the Butterick Company, a major magazine publisher. He lived comfortably on Manhattan’s Upper West Side. Then he got involved in the ardent pursuit of the teenage daughter of a coworker. In October 1910, he was fired from Butterick. He separated from his wife, Jug, and moved to Greenwich Village. He resumed work on Jennie Gerhardt, which was published in 1911, and began a period of remarkable literary productivity. He pursued a “varietist” (promiscuous) lifestyle and became associated with the Village’s bohemian element. By around 1915 and no later than 1920, it was customary to refer to Dreiser as America’s foremost novelist — it was indeed a rapid ascent.
The publication of Dreiser’s The “Genius” in 1915 led to controversy over the suppression of the book by anti-vice groups and to support from Dreiser by literary figures such as Ezra Pound, who otherwise would probably not have been inclined to notice Dreiser. Dreiser began to write experimental plays that were produced by “little theaters” in New York and elsewhere. He also began to publish books of essays with a philosophic cast (such as Hey Rub-a-Dub-Dub) and travel books and memoirs (such as A Hoosier Holiday).
In 1925, Dreiser published An American Tragedy, his only best seller. The sale of film rights to the novel made Dreiser rich. He moved into a luxurious apartment in midtown Manhattan and bought a country estate in Westchester County. He became a celebrity and began to put on airs while claiming to disdain wealth and celebrity.
Dreiser had for a long time (since shortly after the breakup of his marriage) been living with Helen (Patges) Richardson, a glamorous woman whom he had met when she was embarking on a brief career as a movie actress and with whom he had common ancestry on his mother’s side. Dreiser continued to engage in innumerable liaisons, trysts, and affairs that led to bitterness between the two and short-lived breakups. Shortly before his own death, and shortly after that of his first wife, Jug, Dreiser married Helen Richardson.
The approximately twenty-year period between the publication of An American Tragedy and his death was one which saw a paltry literary output from Dreiser. He became known primarily as an outspoken critic of the capitalist system, a gadfly, and an advocate for the oppressed. He was known for making inflammatory statements that caused outrage, such as inveighing against support of England, then at war with Germany, saying, “I would rather see Germans in England than the damn snobs we have there now.” Leftist groups embraced Dreiser and his views (though not all of them — his anti-British remarks brought almost universal condemnation), and his leanings became more and more communistic. He in fact did join the Communist Party a few months before his death, but it seems to have been more an attention-getting move than a sincere gesture. It should be noted that despite his standing in leftist circles, Dreiser was very much a man of his time in holding what we might now be termed “politically incorrect” views, not being averse to making anti-Semitic remarks, for example.
Theodore Dreiser died of heart failure on December 28, 1945 at his home in Los Angeles and was buried a week later in Forest Lawn Cemetery.
HIS IMPORTANCE
Why is Theodore Dreiser important? Is it because he was a great writer? Some would say he was, but he was an atrocious stylist.
Dreiser’s plots are often soap opera-ish. He never mastered let alone learned even the fundamentals of English prose. Characters like Sondra Finchley seem like crude embodiments of a social class or an ideal, not real. Dreiser was accused (rightly) of plagiarism and he lifted whole chunks of one his best novels, An American Tragedy, out of newspaper accounts and trial transcripts. Some of his nonfiction works (his essays or Dreiser Looks at Russia) border on the inane or are inaccurate. His philosophy was muddle-headed and his opinions often misguided, hateful, and injurious. He wasted years on pseudo-scientific and philosophical speculations which, when finally published posthumously, proved to be unreadable. His prose poetry does not deserve serious critical consideration. Even his so-called classics (e.g., Sister Carrie) have, in my opinion, patches of tepid characterization and weak writing.
Besides being an atrocious stylist, Dreiser can be criticized as a writer on architectonic grounds. He seems a blunderer or groper in practically all respects as a writer. He got there almost by accident, it seems (though one has to admire greatly his persistence). It’s like watching an inept driver drive and wanting to take over the wheel. A Tolstoy or a Joyce seems so superior as a novelist, leaving Dreiser so far behind on all counts.
Does Dreiser stand up to scrutiny? I think there are valid reasons, despite his shortcomings, for considering Dreiser a major American writer, namely:
his place in the literary evolutionary timeline as one of the first and most successful practitioners of naturalism;
the readability and durability of his works; people still read them, because they want to;
the embodying in his works and life of a bygone generation that came of age at the turn of the nineteenth century when telephones were a novelty, trolley cars connected vast stretches of the country, men wore straw hats, and bars with sawdust on the floor served free lunches, and when social class distinctions were more rigidly observed;
his international appeal as a quintessentially American novelist, someone who gives a coherent picture of life in a capitalist country to foreigners who can relate to his works and characters (even if the picture he gives of American life is not always accurate) and who actually read his works, which seem to translate very well
the Horatio Alger-like quality of Dreiser’s own life story, and his doggedness in pushing aside obstacles placed in his way; his rise to fame is a truly rags to rich story which, perhaps, could have only happened in America
* his disdain for academic and critical opinion, which seems to be a correlative to his originality as an American authentic, a home grown, self-taught writer and thinker
his incredible frankness and honesty — about himself especially — which is perhaps best seen in Dreiser’s autobiographies. (They merit much higher ratings than they seem to have hitherto received as specimens of American autobiography). No writer (of Dreiser’s time) wrote with such candor, or anything close to it, of taboo subjects such as prostitution, premarital sex, marital infidelity, masturbation, oral sex, youthful fear of sexual impotence, abortion, and the like — at a time when to write for publication about such topics was practically unthinkable. If publishers took them out, Dreiser could do nothing about it; but it didn’t stop him from continuing to write with the same astonishing candor, and, incredibly, without, it would seem, a sense of compunction or embarrassment. His sincerity about not only these taboo subjects, but about himself in general, the lack of pretension that can be seen in his autobiographies, this and the genuine sympathy and unaffected concern he shows for the characters in his novels, make him easy to read. He is not striving to impress us with his erudition or to impress the reader in a literary sense. I think what happens, then, is something magical where readers relax and really get into his stories. There is no disjunction between reader and writer.
Dreiser’s very artlessness makes him an easy read. His sincerity makes his books compelling. The wealth of detail he often provides is impressive and has a strong cumulative effect, as critics have observed.
In the end, Dreiser got there. Somehow, he arrived, as a writer. He hewed out a place for himself in the American literary pantheon.
A lot of young would be writers should take heed from the example of Dreiser. He was, in fact, an inspiration to a whole generation of realistic writers who followed him.
Dreiser’s stature is assured, in part, because he was there, because he stands firmly in a line that extends from the naturalists to writers who followed him such as Sherwood Anderson, Sinclair Lewis, and James T. Farrell.
— Roger W. Smith
January 2016
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MAJOR WORKS
Sister Carrie (1900)
Jennie Gerhardt (1911)
The Financier (1912; revised 1927)
A Traveler at Forty (1913)
The Titan (1914)
The “Genius” (1915)
A Hoosier Holiday (1916)
Plays of the Natural and Supernatural (1916)
Free and Other Stories (1918)
The Hand of the Potter (1918)
Twelve Men (1919)
Hey Rub-a-Dub-Dub (1920)
A Book About Myself (1922; republished as Newspaper Days, 1931)
The Color of a Great City (1923)
An American Tragedy (1925)
Chains: Lesser Novels and Stories (1927)
Dreiser Looks at Russia (1928)
Moods, Cadenced and Disclaimed (1928)
A Gallery of Women (1929)
Dawn (1931)
Tragic America (1931)
Moods, Philosophical and Emotional (1935)
America Is Worth Saving (1941)
PUBLISHED POSTHUMOUSLY
The Bulwark (1946)
The Stoic (1947)
Notes on Life (1974)
American Diaries, 1902-1926 (1982)
An Amateur Laborer (1983)
Mark Harris, in his wonderful baseball novel The Southpaw (1953), talks about an aspect of the game, fly balls.
The Southpaw is the first in a series of novels about Henry Wiggen, a star pitcher for a fictional team, the New York Mammoths. In an expository passage, Harris observes that it is aesthetically beautiful and satisfying to watch an outfielder do something that is considered routine: catch a fly ball, say, during practice when a coach is hitting fungoes. He refers to the flight of the ball and the grace it requires to track and catch it.
When you think about it, catching a long fly is a skill one has to develop. It is actually counterintuitive, in a sense. Think of a person not brought up with baseball in their culture trying to do it (and how ridiculous they often look when they try).
I bought an instructional video on fielding once for my sons Henry and Stephen. It was quite good. The instructor said that the key to catching a fly is to run to the spot where you think it is going to come down and be sure you are under it when it does. Otherwise, you will find yourself out of position, lunging for the ball. If you are already in position, in the right spot, you have a good chance of making the catch.
The instructor also said you have to cradle a grounder like an egg and see it into your glove. I have often marveled at how few errors major league infielders make. I have noticed that they always seem to position themselves correctly, in terms of their stance and glove. It seems to be the key to their success in this regard.
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“It is a beautiful sight to see a good outfielder gather in a fly ball, moving over as graceful as you please while from 250 or 300 feet away someone has tossed the ball up in front of himself and laid into it and sent it upward and upward in a high arc until the ball is just a white speck against the blue sky, and then it hits its highest point and begins to drop, and you look down and there is a player loping over, moving fast or slow, depending on how he sizes up the situation, and he moves under the ball and it zooms down in his glove. It looks so easy when a good ballplayer does it. It is not easy. Ask any kid that has ever tried to play ball whether it is easy, and he will tell you. But when a big-league ballplayer does it, it looks easy because he is so graceful, and he gathers it in and then runs a few steps on his momentum and digs his spikes in the ground and wheels and fires that ball back where it came from, and it hops along, white against the green grass.”
— Mark Harris, The Southpaw
— posted by Roger W. Smith
September 2015
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Addendum:
Below is the text of am email of mine from October 2004 to my older brother, sister, and my uncle, Roger Handy.
From: Roger W. Smith
Wednesday, October 13, 2004
Subject: Manny should have caught it
Manny Ramirez looked like a Little Leaguer trying to catch Bernie Williams’s fly in the 8th inning last night. The Red Sox might have had a chance if they had gone into the 9th one run down.
Everyone knows — as color commentator Al Leiter pointed out — that you are supposed to turn around and run to where you think the ball is headed while looking over your shoulder, not try to catch a fly ball backpedaling waving your glove in the air.
One of the guys I have been playing baseball with lately is a 25 year old ex-minor leaguer in the Mets farm system. He discussed with us some of the fundamentals one is taught in the minors. Things like throwing, basic stance and swing, and so forth.
His advice was actually helpful to me. For instance, I realized I usually throw the ball wrong (overhand instead of three quarters). He tries to coach the kids we play with, some of whom don’t listen.
Where was Manny when they were teaching fundamentals? But come to think of it, I am not sure he ever played minor league ball.
I live in Queens, New York City adjacent to the Brooklyn border. I often walk through Brooklyn and over the Brooklyn Bridge on my way either to or from Manhattan.
Along my route on Flushing Avenue in Brooklyn, a long stretch, I pass All Saints Roman Catholic Church, which is located catty-corner to Flushing Avenue at 115 Throop Avenue.
I always stop to admire this church.
The parish was organized in 1866. The current building was constructed in 1896. It’s in the Williamsburg section of Brooklyn.
The church was established originally to serve working class German immigrants, many of whom worked in breweries in Williamsburg. Later, the neighborhood became largely Italian, as did the parish. Nowadays, the congregation is largely Hispanic.
Brooklyn is known as “the city of churches.”
— Roger W. Smith
January 2016
Handel, “Semele, or The Wrath of Juno” (1744)
| Cadmus, Athamas, Semele, Ino and Chorus of Priests. The scene is the temple of Juno. Near the altar is a golden image of the goddess. The Priests are in their solemnities, as after a sacrifice newly offered: flames arise from the altar and the statue of Juno is seen to bow.. |
Priest
Behold! Auspicious flashes rise,
Juno accepts our sacrifice;
The grateful odour swift ascends,
And see, the golden image bends!
Lucky omens bless our rites,
And sure success shall crown your loves;
Peaceful days and fruitful nights
Attend the pair that she approves.
Cadmus
Daughter, obey,
Hear and obey!
With kind consenting
Ease a parent’s care;
Invent no new delay,
On this auspicious day.
Athamas
Oh, hear a faithful lover’s prayer!
On this auspicious day
Invent no new delay.
Semele (apart)
Ah me!
What refuge now is left me?
How various, how tormenting
Are my miseries!
O Jove, assist me!
Can Semele forego thy love,
And to a mortal’s passion yield?
Thy vengeance will o’ertake such perfidy.
If I deny, my father’s wrath I fear.
Semele
O Jove! In pity teach me which to choose,
Incline me to comply, or help me to refuse!
Teach me which to choose,
Or help me to refuse!
Semele
The morning lark to mine accords his note,
And tunes to my distress his warbling throat.
Each setting and each rising sun I mourn,
Wailing alike his absence and return.
The morning lark. . . da capo
Athamas
See, she blushing turns her eyes;
See, with sighs her bosom panting!
If from love those sighs arise,
Nothing to my bliss is wanting.
Athamas
Hymen, haste, thy torch prepare,
Love already his has lighted!
One soft sigh has cur’d despair,
And more than my past pains requited.
Hymen, haste. . . da capo
Ino
Alas, she yields,
And has undone me!
I cannot longer hide my passion,
It must have vent,
Or inward burning
Will consume me.
O Athamas,
I cannot utter it!
Athamas
On me fair Ino calls
With mournful accent,
Her colour fading,
And her eyes o’erflowing!
Ino
O Semele!
Semele
On me she calls,
Yet seems to shun me!
What would my sister?
Speak!
Ino
Thou hast undone me!
Cadmus
Why dost thou thus untimely grieve,
And all our solemn rites profane?
Can he, or she thy woes relieve,
Or I? Of whom dost thou complain?
Ino
Of all! But all, I fear, in vain.
Athamas
Can I thy woes relieve?
Semele
Can I assuage thy pain?
Cadmus, Athamas, Semele
Of whom dost thou complain?
Ino
Of all! but all, I fear, in vain.
Thunder is heard at a distance and the fire is extinguished on the altar.
Avert these omens, all ye pow’rs!
Some god averse our holy rites controls;
O’erwhelm’d with sudden night the day expires,
Ill-boding thunder on the right hand rolls,
And Jove himself descends in show’rs
To quench our late propitious fires.
Flames are rekindled on the altar.
Cadmus
Again auspicious flashes rise,
Juno accepts our sacrifice.
The fire is again extinguished.
Again the sickly flame decaying dies:
Juno assents, but angry Jove denies.
Athamas
Thy aid, pronubial Juno, Athamas implores!
Semele (apart)
Thee, Jove, and thee alone, thy Semele adores!
A loud clap of thunder; the altar sinks.
Cease, cease your vows, ’tis impious to proceed,
Begone, and fly this holy place with speed!
This dreadful conflict is of dire presage,
Begone, and fly from Jove’s impending rage!
Exeunt
Athamas and Ino
Athamas
O Athamas, what torture hast thou borne,
And oh, what hast thou yet to bear?
From love, from hope, from near possession torn,
And plung’d at once in deep despair!
Ino
Turn, hopeless lover, turn thy eyes,
And see a maid bemoan,
In flowing tears and aching sighs,
Thy woes too like her own.
Turn, hopeless lover. . . da capo
Athamas
She weeps!
The gentle maid, in tender pity,
Weeps to behold my misery!
So Semele would melt
To see another mourn.
Athamas
Your tuneful voice my tale would tell,
In pity of my sad despair;
And with sweet melody compel
Attention from the flying fair.
Your tuneful voice. . . da capo
Ino
Too well I see,
Thou wilt not understand me.
Whence could proceed such tenderness?
Whence such compassion?
Insensible, ingrate,
Ah no, I cannot blame thee!
For by effects, unknown before,
Who could the hidden cause explore,
Or think that love could act so strange a part,
To plead for pity in a rival’s heart?
Athamas
Ah me, what have I heard,
She does her passion own!
Ino
You’ve undone me,
Look not on me!
Guilt upbraiding,
Shame invading,
You’ve undone me,
Look not on me!
Athamas
With my life I would atone
Pains you’ve borne,
To me unknown.
Cease to shun me.
Both
Love alone
Has both undone!
To them Enter Cadmus, attended.
Cadmus
Ah, wretched prince, doom’d to disastrous love!
Ah me, of parents most forlorn!
Prepare, O Athamas, to prove
The sharpest pangs that e’er were borne,
Prepare with me our common loss to mourn!
Athamas
Can fate, or Semele, invent
Another, yet another punishment?
Cadmus
Wing’d with our fears and pious haste,
From Juno’s fane we fled.
Scarce we the brazen gates had pass’d,
When Semele around her head
With azure flames was grac’d,
Whose lambent glories in her tresses play’d.
While this we saw with dread surprise,
Swifter than lightning downward tending,
An eagle stoop’d, of mighty size,
On purple wings descending,
Like gold his beak, like stars shone forth his eyes,
His silver plumy breast with snow contending.
Sudden he snatch’d the trembling maid,
And soaring from our sight convey’d,
Diffusing ever as he less’ning flew
Celestial odour and ambrosial dew.
Athamas
Oh prodigy, to me of dire portent!
Ino
To me I hope, of fortunate event!
Enter to them Chorus of Priests and Augurs.
Cadmus
See, see, Jove’s Priests and holy Augurs come,
Speak, speak of Semele, and me declare the doom!
Hail Cadmus, hail!
Jove salutes the Theban king!
Cease your mourning,
Joys returning,
Songs of mirth and triumph sing!
Hail Cadmus, hail!
Semele
Endless pleasure, endless love,
Semele enjoys above!
On her bosom Jove reclining,
Useless now his thunder lies;
To her arms his bolts resigning,
And his lightning to her eyes.
Priests and Augurs
Endless pleasure, endless love
Semele enjoys above!
A pleasant country, the prospect terminated
by a beautiful mountain adorn’d with woods and waterfalls.
Juno and Iris descend in different machines. Juno in a chariot
drawn by peacocks; Iris on a rainbow; they alight and meet.
Juno
Iris, impatient of thy stay,
From Samos have I wing’d my way
To meet thy slow return.
Iris
With all his speed not yet the sun
Through half his race has run,
Since I, to execute thy dread command,
Have thrice encompass’d sea and land.
Juno
Say, where is Semele’s abode?
Iris
Look, where Cithaeron proudly stands,
Bœotia parting from Cecropian lands.
High on the summit of that hill,
Beyond the reach of mortal eyes,
By Jove’s command and Vulcan’s skill,
Behold a new-erected palace rise!
Iris
There, from mortal cares retiring,
She resides in sweet retreat.
On her pleasure, Jove requiring,
All the Loves and Graces wait.
There. . . da capo
Juno
No more, I’ll hear no more!
Juno
Awake, Saturnia, from thy lethargy!
Seize, destroy the cursed Semele!
Scale proud Cithaeron’s top,
Snatch her, tear her in thy fury,
And down to the flood of Acheron
Let her fall, let her fall, fall, fall,
Rolling down the depths of night,
Never more to behold the light.
If I th’imperial scepter sway, I swear
By hell!
(Tremble, thou universe, this oath to hear!)
Not one of curst Agenor’s race to spare.
Iris
Hear, mighty queen, while I recount
What obstacles you must surmount.
Iris
With adamant the gates are barr’d,
Whose entrance two fierce dragons guard.
At each approach they lash their forky stings
And clap their brazen wings;
And as their scaly horrors rise,
They all at once disclose
A thousand fiery eyes
Which never know repose.
Juno
Hence, Iris, hence away,
Far from the realms of day!
O’er Scythian hills to the Maeotian lake
A speedy flight we’ll take!
There Somnus I’ll compel
His downy bed to leave, and silent cell;
With noise and light I will his peace molest,
Nor shall he sink again to pleasing rest,
Till to my vow’d revenge he grants supplies,
And seals with sleep the wakeful dragons’ eyes.
Hence. . . da capo
Exeunt
An apartment in the palace of Semele.
She is sleeping, Loves and Zephyrs waiting.
Cupid
Come, Zephyrs, come, while Cupid sings,
Fan her with your silky wings!
New desire I’ll inspire,
And revive the dying flames.
Dance around her
While I wound her,
And with pleasure
Fill her dreams.
Come, Zephyrs, come. . . da capo]
Semele awakes and rises.
Semele
O sleep, why dost thou leave me,
Why thy visionary joys remove?
O sleep, again deceive me,
To my arms restore my wand’ring love!
To them Enter Jupiter.
Semele
Let me not another moment
Bear the pangs of absence;
Since you have form’d my soul for loving,
No more afflict me
With doubts and fears and cruel jealousy!
Jupiter
Lay your doubts and fears aside,
And for joys alone provide.
Though this human form I wear,
Think not I man’s falsehood bear.
Lay your doubts. . . da capo
Jupiter
You are mortal and require
Time to rest and to repose.
I was not absent,
While Love was with thee
I was present:
Love and I are one.
Semele
With fond desiring,
With bliss expiring,
Panting,
Fainting,
If this be Love, not you alone,
But Love and I are one.
Causeless doubting,
Or despairing,
Rashly trusting,
Idly fearing,
If this be Love, not you alone,
But Love and I are one
With fond. . . da capo
How engaging, how endearing,
Is a lover’s pain and care!
And what joy the nymph’s appearing
After absence or despair!
How engaging. . . da capo
Semele
Ah me!
Jupiter
Why sighs my Semele?
What gentle sorrow
Swells thy soft bosom?
Why tremble those fair eyes
With interrupted light,
Where hov’ring for a vent,
Amidst their humid fires,
Some new-form’d wish appears?
Speak, and obtain!
Semele
At my own happiness
I sigh and tremble,
For I am mortal,
Still a woman;
And ever when you leave me,
Though compass’d round with deities
Of Loves and Graces,
A fear invades me,
And conscious of a nature
Far inferior,
I seek for solitude
And shun society.
Jupiter (apart)
Too well I read her meaning,
But must not understand her:
Aiming at immortality
With dangerous ambition.
Jupiter
I must with speed amuse her
Lest she too much explain.
It gives the lover double pain
Who hears his nymph complain,
And hearing, must refuse her.
I must. . . da capo
Now Love that everlasting boy invites
To revel while you may in soft delights.
Jupiter
By my command
Now at this instant
Two winged Zephyrs
From her downy bed
Thy much lov’d Ino bear,
And both together
Waft her hither,
Through the balmy air.
Semele
Shall I my sister see,
The dear companion
Of my tender years?
Jupiter
See, she appears,
But sees not me;
For I am visible
Alone to thee.
While I retire, rise and meet her,
And with welcomes greet her.
Now all this scene shall to Arcadia turn,
The seat of happy nymphs and swains;
There without the rage of jealousy they burn,
And taste the sweets of love without its pains.
Jupiter
Where’er you walk, cool gales shall fan the glade;
Trees, where you sit, shall crowd into a shade.
Where’er you tread, the blushing flow’rs shall rise,
And all things flourish where’er you turn your eyes.
Where’er. . . da capo
Exit.
Semele and Ino meet and embrace. Chorus of Nymphs and Swains.
Semele
Dear sister, how was your passage hither?
Ino
O’er many states and peopled towns we pass’d,
O’er hills and valleys, and o’er deserts waste;
O’er barren moors, and o’er unwholesome fens,
And woods where beasts inhabit dreadful dens.
Through all which pathless way our speed was such,
We stopp’d not once the face of earth to touch.
Meantime they told me, while through air we fled,
That Jove did thus ordain.
Ino
But hark, the heav’nly sphere turns round,
And silence now is drown’d
In ecstasy of sound.
How on a sudden the still air is charm’d
As if all harmony were just alarm’d!
And ev’ry soul with transport fill’d,
Alternately is thaw’d and chill’d.
Semele and Ino
Prepare then, ye immortal choir,
Each sacred minstrel tune his lyre,
And all in chorus join!
Bless the glad earth with heav’nly lays,
And to that pitch th’eternal accents raise,
That all appear divine!
The Cave of Sleep. The God of Sleep lying on his bed.
Juno and Iris appear.
Juno
Somnus, awake,
Raise thy reclining head!
Iris
Thyself forsake,
And lift up thy heavy lids of lead!
Somnus (waking)
Leave me, loathsome light,
Receive me, silent night!
Lethe, why does thy ling’ring current cease?
Oh, murmur, murmur me again to peace!
Sleeps again.
Iris
Dull God, canst thou attend the water’s fall,
And not hear Saturnia call?
Juno
Peace, Iris, peace! I know how to charm him:
Pasithea’s name alone can warm him.
(To Somnus)
Somnus, arise!
Disclose thy tender eyes;
For Pasithea’s sight
Endure the light.
Somnus, arise!
Somnus
More sweet is that name
Than a soft purling stream.
With pleasure repose I’ll forsake,
If you’ll grant me but her to soothe me awake.
More sweet. . . da capo
Juno
My will obey,
She shall be thine.
Thou, with thy softer pow’rs,
First Jove shalt captivate.
To Morpheus then give order,
Thy various minister,
That with a dream in shape of Semele,
But far more beautiful
And more alluring,
He may invade the sleeping deity;
And more to agitate his kindling fire
Still let the phantom seem to fly before him,
That he may wake impetuous, furious in desire,
Unable to refuse whatever boon
Her coyness shall require.
Somnus
I tremble to comply.
Juno
To me thy leaden rod resign,
To charm the sentinels
On mount Cithaeron.
Then cast a sleep on mortal Ino,
That I may seem her form to wear,
When I to Semele appear.
Juno
Obey my will, thy rod resign,
And Pasithea shall be thine.
Somnus
All I must grant, for all is due
To Pasithea, love and you.
Exeunt
An Apartment. Semele alone.
Semele
My racking thoughts by no kind slumbers freed,
But painful nights to joyful days succeed.
To her Enter Juno as Ino, with a mirror in her hand.
Juno (apart)
Thus shap’d like Ino,
With ease I shall deceive her,
And in this mirror she shall see
Herself as much transform’d as me.
(To Semele)
Do I some goddess see,
Or is it Semele!
Semele
Dear sister, speak,
Whence this astonishment?
Juno
Your charms improving
To divine perfection,
Show you were late admitted
Amongst celestial beauties.
Has Jove consented,
And are you made immortal?
Semele
Ah no! I still am mortal;
Nor am I sensible
Of any change or new perfection.
Juno (giving her the glass)
Behold in this mirror
Whence comes my surprise!
Such lustre and terror
Unite in your eyes,
That mine cannot fix on a radiance so bright,
‘Tis unsafe for the sense and too slipp’ry for sight.
Semele
Oh, ecstasy of happiness!
Celestial graces
I discover in each feature!
Semele
Myself I shall adore,
If I persist in gazing.
No object sure before
Was ever half so pleasing.
Myself. . . da capo
Juno
Be wise, as you are beautiful,
Nor lose this opportunity.
When Jove appears,
All ardent with desire,
Refuse his proffer’d flame
Till you obtain a boon without a name.
Semele
Can that avail me? But how shall I attain
To immortality?
Juno
Conjure him by his oath
Not to approach your bed
In likeness of a mortal,
But like himself, the mighty thunderer,
In pomp of majesty
And heav’nly attire,
As when he proud Saturnia charms,
And with ineffable delights
Fills her encircling arms,
And pays the nuptial rites.
You shall partake then of immortality,
And thenceforth leave this mortal state
To reign above,
Ador’d by Jove,
In spite of jealous Juno’s hate.
Semele
Thus let my thanks be paid,
Thus let my arms embrace thee,
And when I’m a goddess made,
With charms like mine I’ll grace thee.
Juno
Rich odours fill the fragrant air,
And Jove’s approach declare.
I must retire.
Semele
Adieu, your counsel I’ll pursue.
Juno (apart)
And sure destruction will ensue,
Vain wretched fool, adieu!
Exit.
Jupiter enters, offers to embrace Semele;
she looks kindly on him, but retires a little from him.
Jupiter
Come to my arms, my lovely fair,
Soothe my uneasy care.
In my dream late I woo’d thee,
And in vain I pursued thee,
For you fled from my prayer,
And bid me despair.
Come to my arms, my lovely fair.
Jupiter
O Semele!
Why art thou thus insensible?
Semele
I ever am granting,
You always complain.
I always am wanting,
Yet never obtain.
I ever am granting,
You always complain.
Jupiter
Speak, speak your desire,
Say what you require,
I’ll grant it.
Semele
Swear by the Stygian lake!
Jupiter
By that tremendous flood, I swear.
Ye Stygian waters, hear,
And thou, Olympus, shake,
In witness to the oath I take!
Thunder is heard at a distance and underneath.
Semele
You’ll grant what I require?
Jupiter
I’ll grant what you require.
Semele
Then cast off this human shape which you wear,
And Jove since you are, like Jove too appear!
Jupiter
Ah, take heed what you press,
For, beyond all redress,
Should I grant your request, I shall harm you.
Semele
No, no, I’ll take no less,
Than all in full excess!
Your oath it may alarm you.
Yet haste and prepare,
For I’ll know what you are,
With all your powers arm you.
No, no. . . da capo
Exit.
Jupiter (pensive and dejected)
Ah, whither is she gone! unhappy fair?
Why did she wish, why did I rashly swear?
‘Tis past, ’tis past recall,
She must a victim fall.
Anon when I appear
The mighty thunderer,
Arm’d with inevitable fire,
She needs must instantly expire.
‘Tis past, ’tis past recall,
She must a victim fall.
My softest lightning yet I’ll try,
And mildest melting bolt apply;
In vain, for she was fram’d to prove
None but the lambent flames of love.
‘Tis past, ’tis past recall,
She must a victim fall.
Juno, alone.
Juno
Above measure
Is the pleasure,
Which my revenge supplies.
Love’s a bubble,
Gain’d with trouble,
And in possessing dies.
With what joy shall I mount to my heav’n again,
At once from my rival and jealousy freed!
The sweets of revenge make it worth while to reign,
And heav’n will hereafter be heav’n indeed.
Above measure. . . da capo
The scene discovers Semele under a canopy, leaning pensively,
while a mournful symphony is playing. She looks up and sees Jupiter
descending in a cloud; flashes of lightning issue from either side,
and thunder is heard grumbling in the air.
Semele
Ah me! Too late I now repent
My pride and impious vanity.
He comes! Far off his lightnings scorch me,
Ah, I feel my life consuming:
I burn, I burn, I faint, for pity I implore,
Oh help, oh help, I can no more!
She dies. The cloud bursts, and Semele with the palace instantly disappears.
Cadmus, Athamas, Ino and Chorus of Priests.
Ino
Of my ill-boding dream
Behold the dire event!
Oh, terror and astonishment!
Nature to each allots his proper sphere,
But that forsaken we like meteors err:
Toss’d through the void, by some rude shock we’re broke,
And all our boasted fire is lost in smoke.
Ino
How I was hence remov’d,
Or hither how return’d, I know not:
So long a trance withheld me.
But Hermes in a vision told me,
As I have now related,
The fate of Semele;
And added, as from me he fled,
That Jove ordain’d I Athamas should wed.
Cadmus
Be Jove in ev’rything obey’d.
Joins their hands.
Athamas
Unworthy of your charms myself I yield,
Be Jove’s commands and yours fulfill’d.
Athamas
Despair no more shall wound me,
Since you so kind do prove.
All joy and bliss surround me,
My soul is tun’d to love.
Despair no more. . . da capo
Cadmus
See from above the bellying clouds descend,
And big with some new wonder this way tend.
A bright cloud descends and rests upon Mount Cithaeron,
which, opening, discovers Apollo seated in it as the God of Prophecy.
Apollo
Apollo comes, to relieve your care,
And future happiness declare.
From Semele’s ashes a phœnix shall rise,
The joy of this earth, and delight of the skies:
A God he shall prove
More mighty than Love,
And sighing and sorrow for ever prevent.
Happy, happy shall we be,
Free from care, from sorrow free.
Guiltless pleasures we’ll enjoy,
Virtuous love will never cloy;
All that’s good and just we’ll prove,
And Bacchus crown the joys of love.
— posted by Roger W. Smith
Handel, “Orlando” (1733)
Libretto
da Ludovico Ariosto e C. S. Capece
Ouverture
Atto primo
Scena I
Notte. Campagna con monte in prospetto; Atlante sopra la coma del monte, che sostiene il cielo sopra le spalle. Molti Geni a piede del monte: Zoroastro appoggiato sopra ad un sasso sta contemplando i motti delle stelle.
Accompagnato
Zoroastro
Geroglifici eterni,
Che in zifre luminose ogn’or splendete Ah! Che alla mente umana
Altro che belle oscurità non siete.
Recitativo Zoroastro
Pure il mio spirto audace
Crede veder scritto là su in le stelle Che Orlando, eroe sagace,
Alla gloria non fia sempre ribelle.
Ecco, sen vien. Su, miei consigli, all’opra!
Scena II
Orlando e Zoroastro
Aria di Orlando Stimolato dalla gloria Agitato dall’amore Che farai, misero core?
Recitativo Zoroastro
Purgalo ormai da effeminati sensi.
Orlando
Chi sei? Che parli? Che vuoi tu? Che pensi?
Zoroastro
Di tua gloria custode Ti stimolo a seguirla. Ergi ‘l core
Alle grandi opre.
Orlando
Ah! Me lo tolse amore!
Zoroastro
Te lo renda il valore
Orlando Languisce in petto Zoroastro
Scherno esser vuoi d’un vile pargoletto?
Sinfonia
Il mago fa segno con la verga, e li Geni portano via il monte, comparendo in suo loco la Reggia d’Amore, che in figura di fanciullo siede nel trono avendo ai suoi piedi addormentati alcuni eroi dell’Antichità.
Recitativo Zoroastro
Mira, e prendi l’esempio:
Né apprender voti, che di gloria al tempio.
Aria di Zoroastro
Lascia Amore, e segui Marte! Va, combatti per la gloria.
Sol oblio que l ti comparte Questo sol bella memoria. Lascia, etc.
Scena Terza Orlando solo
Recitativo Accompagnato Orlando
Immagini funeste
Che turbate quest’alma!
E non avrò sopra di voi la palma? Sì, già vi fuggo, e corro
A innalzar col valor novi trofei:
Ti rendo o bella gloria gli affetti miei. Ma che parlo? E non moro?
E lascerò quell’idolo che adoro! No: parto, e fia mia gloria,
Più servir ad amor, ch’aver vittoria.
Aria di Orlando
Non fu già men forte Alcide Benché in sen d’Onfale bella Spesso l’armi egli posò!
Né men fiero il gran Pelide Sotto spoglie di donzella D’Asia i regni minacciò! Non fu, etc.
(Parte)
Scena Quarta
Boschetto con capanne di pastori. Dorinda, poi Orlando
Arioso di Dorinda
Quanto diletto avea tra questi boschi A rimirar quegli innocenti scherzi
E di capri, e di cervi?
Nel serpeggiar dei limpidi ruscelli Brillar i fior, ed ondeggiar le piante; Nel garrir degli augelli
Nello spirar di zeffiretto i fiati. Oh giorni allor beati!
Ora per me funesti.
Recitativo Dorinda
Io non so che sian questi moti
Che sento adesso entro il mio core.
Ho inteso dir, che ciò suol fare amore.
Si sente di dentro strepito d’armi: Orlando con la spada alla mano conducendo seco una Principessa
Recitativo Concitato Orlando
Itene pur tremendo anime vili Ite d’abisso a popolare i regni. Tu illustre Principessa
Libera sei, e reco più a mia gloria Il tuo bello servir, ch’ogni vittoria. (Partono)
Recitativo Dorinda
Quegli è il famoso Orlando Che vive, a quel ch’io vedo Anch’esso amando.
Aria di Dorinda Ho un certo rossore Di dir quel sento S’è gioia o tormento S’è gelo o un ardore S’è al fine – nol so. Pur picciolo meco Bisogna che sia Piacere o dolore
Se l’anima mia Rinchiudere lo può. Ho un certo, etc. (Parte)
Scena Quinta
Angelica e poi Medoro a parte
Recitativo Angelica
M’hai vinto al fin, m’hai vinto, o cieco Nume! L’alma mia non presume
Di riportar più i soliti trofei E tu Orlando, ove sei?
Deh, mira al fin, che l’idolo mio, che adoro E’ l’amabil Medoro
Io lo vidi ferito;
Medoro ascolta a parte
Sanarlo procurai, ma le sue piaghe Saldando nel suo petto: ah! Nel mio core Per lui apriva Amor una maggiore.
Arioso di Angelica Ritornava al suo bel viso Fatto già bianco e vermiglio Con la rosa unito il giglio Dal pallor delle viole.
Arioso di Medoro Accostandosi
E il mio cor da me diviso
Si struggeva in fiamma lieve Come suol falda di neve Discoperta ai rai del sole.
Recitativo Angelica
Spera, mio ben, che presto Con più tranquilla sorte D’esser a me nel regno
Come già reso sei in amor, consorte.
Medoro
Di tanto onor mi scorgo indegno
Aria di Angelica
Chi possessore è del mio core Può senza orgoglio chiamarsi Re.
Io ch’ho spezzato più d’un impero Ho a te piagato l’animo altero
E più d’un soglio val la mia fe’.
(Parte)
Scena Sesta Dorinda e Medoro
Recitativo Medoro
Ecco Dorinda, né sfuggirla io posso.
Dorinda
Medoro, al fin ti ritrovo
Pure una volta solo; perché poche Son quelle che lontana da te stia La tua bella parente; ed ho timore
Che più del sangue a lei t’unisca amore.
Medoro
No Dorinda, t’inganni, anzi fra poco Deve partir, ed accompagnarla io debbo. Dorinda
Tu con lei partirai?
Medoro
Con lei qui venni;
La vita, che a lei devo, M’obbliga d’esser grato. Dorinda
E se mi lasci
Poco temi però d’esser ingrato.
Medoro
No l’ sarò mai. L’offeso tuo cortese Il tuo volto….
Dorinda
Vorrei gentil Medoro Poterti prestar fede;
Ma il core non ti crede, e che ingannarmi Dice, che vuoi. Non posso consolarmi.
Aria di Medoro
Se il cor mai ti dirà Ch’io mi scordi di te, Rispondigli per me , Ch’è menzognero Memoria sì gradita Altro che con la vita Mai non si partirà Dal mio pensiero.
Se il cor mai ti dirà, etc.
(Parte)
Scena Settima Dorinda sola
Recitativo Dorinda
Povera me! Ben vedo che m’alletta Con un parlar fallace;
Ma così ancor mi piace, E ogni sua pargoletta
Mi fa all’udito certa consonanza
Che accorda col desio pur la speranza.
Aria di Dorinda
O care parolette, o dolci sguardi Sebbene siete bugiardi
Tanto vi crederò. Ma poi che far potrò
Allor che troppo tardi Io vi conoscerò.
O care parolette, etc.
Scena Ottava
Zoroastro, Angelica e poi Orlando
Recitativo Zoroastro
Noti a me sono i tuoi fatali amori
Con Medoro. E non temi La vendetta d’Orlando? Angelica
E’ ver, che devo Molto all’eroe; ma …. Zoroastro
Già sen vien. Celato
Mi terrò per vegliar d’ognuno il fato
Si ritira in disparte Orlando
Quando mai troverò l’orme fugaci D’Angelica la bella?
Angelica
Oh Dei! Se vien Medoro
Che qui attendea per partir seco! Eh forse se Orlando qua conduce Il novo amore per quella,
ch’ei salvò da man’ nemica
non sarà così grande il mio timore. Vuò fingermi gelosa
Per meglio discoprire il suo pensiero.
Si presenta a Medoro Orlando, è pur vero Ch’io qui ti veda!
Orlando
Oh Cieli! O cara, e come Potevo mai sperar sì lieta sorte! Angelica mio bene.
Angelica
Erri nel nome
Isabella vuoi dir, che là t’attende
Orlando
Son della principessa Difensor, non amante Angelica
Ma per tale ti pubblicò Dorinda allora, e quando….
Orlando
Un’Angelica sol può amare Orlando
Angelica
Vedendo Medoro da lontano
(Ma, oh Dei! Vedo Medor! Convien che Orlando allontani di qua)
Esce il mago facendo segno colla verga, sorge di sotterra una gran fontana, che copre Medoro, la scena cangiandosi in un delizioso giardino.
Orlando
Chiedimi o bella Nuove prove d’amore Angelica
(O soccorso opportun!) Sentimi Orlando
Se pur vuoi, ch’io ti creda
A me fedel, pronto da te allontana
La dama, che a color di mano hai tolto O non vedrai d’Angelica più il volto.
Aria di Angelica
Se fede vuoi, ch’io ti creda Fa che veda la tua fedeltà
Finchè regni nel mio petto il sospetto Mai l’amor vi regnerà
Se fedel, etc.
(Parte)
Scena Nona Orlando solo
Recitativo Orlando T’ubbibirò, crudele,
E vedrai in questo istante Che della Principessa
Fui solo difensore, ma non amante.
Aria di Orlando Fammi combattere Mostri e tifei Nuovi trofei
Se vuoi dal mio valor. Muraglie abbattere Disfare incanti
Se vuoi ch’io vanti Darti prove d’amor. Fammi combattere, etc. (Parte)
Scena Decima
Medoro, ed Angelica trattenendolo
Recitativo Medoro
Angelica, deh lascia…
Angelica
Fermati, oh Dei!
Che pensi far, Medoro?
Medoro
Riconosco chi sia
Chi teco favellar fin’ora ho visto.
Angelica
Fermati, a morir vai Che quello è Orlando Medoro
Alla gloria mi togli
Angelica
Ma ti serbo all’affetto
Medoro Ubbidir devo… Angelica
Forza è partir pria che qui torni Orlando Va al fonte degli allori, ivi m’attendi.
Angelica e Medoro
E del mio amor un novo pegno or prendi
S’abbracciano, quando viene Dorinda, che trattiene Medoro
Scena Undicesima Dorinda e detti
Recitativo Dorinda
O Angelica, o Medoro; il vostro amore Indarno ormai si cela.
Perché il darsi la mano, ed abbracciarsi E’ qualche cosa più di parentela.
Angelica
Dorinda, il ver dicesti; è tempo ormai Di non tener più ascoso
Che Medoro è il mio sposo.
Con lui mi parto già. Grazie ti rendo Del cortese ricetto
Che dato n’hai.
Prendi, e conserva questa
Grata memoria d’un sincero affetto. Le dà un gioiello
Dorinda
Lo prendo, ma speravo
Gioie più care aver dal tuo Medoro, Perché ancor io l’amavo.
Medoro
Vaga Dorinda, perdonar mi dei.
Dorinda
Il ciel te lo perdoni; che m’hai fatto
Più mal di quel che sai con questo tratto.
Terzetto
Angelica e Medoro Consolati o bella Gentil pastorella Ch’al fine il tuo core E’ degno d’amore
E amor troverà.
Dorinda
Non so consolarmi Non voglio sperare
Più amor non può darmi
L’oggetto da amare Che perder mi fa. Angelica
Non perder la speme Ch’è l’unico bene Medoro
Hai l’alma costante Per esser amante Dorinda
No, solo fra pene Il cor viverà
Angelica e Medoro
Consolati o bella, etc.
Scena Prima
Bosco, Dorinda sola
Attto S econdo
Arioso Dorinda
Quando spie ghi i tuoi tormenti Amoroso rosignolo
Par che canti e piangi allor E accompagni il mio dolor.
Scena Seconda Orlando e Dorinda
Recitativo Orlando
Perché, gentil donzella Così vai pubblicando
Ch’ha rapito Isabella, e l’alma Orlando?
Dorinda
Io? Signor, mal intese
Ch’il ferì, d’Angelica parlai…
Orlando
Dimmi, di quale Angelica tu intendi?
Dorinda
Di quella, ch’era meco. E poi sen è partita
Col suo Medoro, da lei tanto amato Ch’amavo pure anch’io
Ch’era l’idol mio
E me lasciò schernita
Sebben questo gioiello m’ha donato Gli fa vedere il gioiello
Orlando
Che miro, oh ciel! Questo è il maniglio appunto Che già di Ziliante a me fu dono
E ch’io dopo a lei diedi. Ah! Più non posso Dubitar ch’ella sia, che me tradisce.
Ma chi è costui, che ardisce D’esser a me rivale?
E’ il Re Circasso? O Ferraguto il Moro?
Dorinda
Già v’ho detto, che chiamassi Medoro Ed è giovane e bello
D’una bona struttura. Ahi! Che non posso Scordarlo! Ed ora tutto quel che miro Parmi che sia Medoro e ognor sospiro.
Aria di Dorinda
Se mi rivolgo al prato Veder Medoro mio
In ogni fior mi fa.
Se miro il bosco, o ‘l rio Mi par che mormorando Or l’onde, ora le fronde Dicano sì ch’amando Qui ‘l tuo Medoro sta. Se mi rivolgo, etc. (Parte)
Scena Terza Orlando solo
Recitativo Orlando
E’ questa la mercede Angelica spietata!
Del mio amor, di mia fede?
Ah! Non vi gioverà da me fuggire Che sino d’Acheronte sulla strada
Vi giungerà il mio sdegno, e la mia spada!
Aria di Orlando
Cielo! Se tu il consenti Deh! Fa che nel mio seno Possa anche il ferro entrar; Perché a un sì rio dolore Dal misero mio core
Sappia col ferro almeno L’uscita ritrovar.
Cielo! Se tu il consenti, etc.
(Parte)
Scena Quarta
Deliziosa. Da una parte boschetto di lauri, e dall’altra una bocca di grotta. Angelica, Medoro e Zoroastro.
Recitativo Zoroastro
A qual rischio vi espone Incauti amanti un cieco amor?! Angelica
E’ d’uopo lontanarsi da Orlando
Zoroastro
E s’ei vi giunge?
Medoro
Ho core anch’io nel petto Angelica
Forse per me non sarà mai crudele
Zoroastro
E avrà pietà di chi gli fu infedele? Affrettatene i passi per fuggir il suo sdegno E l’opra mia per vostro aiuto impegno
Aria di Zoroastro
Tra caligini profonde
Erra ognor la nostra mente S’ha per guida un cieco Nume. Di rovina sulle sponde
E’ in pericolo imminente Se ragion non le dà il lume. Tra caligini, etc.
(Parte)
Scena Quinta Angelica e Medoro
Recitativo Angelica
Da queste amiche piante
Dovermi allontanar, quanto mi spiace!
Medoro
Conserveranno ogn’ora, o mio bel core La memoria fedel del nostro amore Angelica
Ma del nostro cammino
E tempo ormai di seguitarne il corso Vanne ed appresta a’ corridori ‘l morso Ch’io qui t’attendo.
Medoro
Pronto d’ogni tuo cenno esecutor son io. Addio prati, addio fonti, allori addio
Scolpisce il loro nomi nella scorza degli alberi
Aria di Medoro
Verdi allori sempre unito Conservate il nostro nome Come unito sarà il cor.
E poi dite a chi lo miri
Da qual mano, quando, e come Fosse in voi sì ben scolpito
Se volete, che sospiri Invidiando il nostro amore. Verdi allori, etc.
(Parte)
Scena Sesta Angelica sola
Recitativo Angelica
Dopo tanti perigli, e tanti affanni Ora al paterno regno
Con Medoro farò lieto ritorno. Troppo ingrata ad Orlando
Mi rendo, è ver, cui debbo onor, e vita. Ma che far posso?
Egli ben sa per prova
Che agli incanti d’un volto
Né forza, né virtù, né merto giova.
Aria di Angelica
Non potrà dirmi ingrata Perché restai piagata Da un così vago stral.
Se quando amor l’offese Ei pur mal si difese Dall’arco suo fatal.
Non potrà dirmi ingrata, etc.
(Parte)
Scena Settima Orlando solo
Recitativo Orlando
Dove, dove guidate o Furie Che m’agitate il piede errante? Per ritrovar l’indegna
Coppia, che si nascose a gli occhi miei Legge sopra la scorza degli alberi
Ma che rimiro? Oh Dei!? Scolpiti in queste piante
I nomi rei d’Angelica e Medoro
E ‘l lor perfido amore, e pur non moro! Ma dov’è quella man, che li ha scolpiti? Forse che in questo speco
Del loro amor ricetto, ella s’asconde; Ne cercherò ben tutte
Le più cieche voragini profonde.
Entra nella grotta
Scena Ottava
Angelica e poi Orlando
Recitativo Angelica
Tutto a poter partire
Ha già disposto il mio gradito amante. Addio, dunque vi lascio, amiche piante.
Aria di Angelica
Verdi piante, erbette liete Vago rio, speco frondoso Sia per voi benigno il ciel. Delle vostre ombre segrete Mai non turbi ‘l bel riposo Vento reo, nembo crudel. Verdi piante, etc.
Recitativo Orlando
Ah perfida, qui sei!
Angelica
Chi mi soccorre? Oh Numi!
Fugge nel bosco. Orlando la seguita, quando esce Medoro.
Scena Nona Medoro solo
Recitativo Medoro
Ohimè! Che miro!
Angelica seguita da un cavalier Fuggendo va nel bosco’
Volo a correr sull’orme
Va nel bosco
Scena Decima
Angelica fuggendo, e poi Orlando
Recitativo Angelica
Amor, caro amore Assistimi tu
Tue nume imploro Ah Medoro! Medoro! Orlando
Medoro chiami invan
Angelica
Dove m’ascondo?
Orlando
Non fuggirai, se non vai nell’altro mondo
Angelica fugge, Orlando la seguita, quando discende una gran nube, che asconde Angelica, e la porta via in aria accompagnata da quattro Geni, che la circondano.
Scena Undicesima Orlando solo
Recitativo Accompagnato Orlando
Ah Stigie larve!
Ah scellerati spettri
Che la perfida donna ora ascondete Perché al mio amor offeso
Al mio giusto furor non la rendete? Ah misero e schernito!
L’ingrata già m’ha ucciso;
Sono lo spirto mio da me diviso
Sono un’ombra, e qual ombra adesso io voglio Varcar là giù ne’ regni del cordoglio.
Ecco la Stigma barca. Di Caronte a dispetto
Già solco l’onde nere: con Pluto Le affumicate soglie, e l’arso tetto.
Aria di Orlando Già latra cerbero E già dell’Erebo Ogni orribile Squallida furia Sen viene a me.
Ma la Furia, che sol mi diè martoro Dov’è? Questa è Medoro.
A Proserpina in braccio
Vedo che fugge. Or a strapparla io corro. Ah! Proserpina piange!
Vien meno il mio furore
Se si piange all’inferno anco d’amore.
Aria di Orlando
Vaghe pupille, non piangete, no Che del pianto ancor nel regno Può in ognun destar pietà; vaghe pupille, non piangete, no ma sì, pupille, sì piangete sì che sordo al vostro incanto
ho un core d’adamanto né calma il mio furor
ma sì, pupille sì piangete sì.
Si getta furiosamente dentro alla grotta, che scoppia, vedendosi il Mago nel suo caro, che tiene fra le braccia Orlando, e fugge per aria.
Atto Terzo
Sinfonia Scena Prima
Recinto di Palme. Medoro e poi Dorinda
Recitativo Medoro
Di Dorinda alle mura
Quando io ritornassi, Angelica mi disse,
Quando per ria sventura novo accidente mai ne dispartisse.
Dorinda
Medoro, e come mai qui ti rivedo? Non so ancor, se lo credo.
Ma Angelica dov’è’
Medoro
Quivi m’impose di ritornar
Dorinda
Io quasi volea dire che tu per me dovessi rivenire; Ma sia pur qualsivoglia la cagione
Sempre è aperta per te la mia magione. Celato star procura
Perché Orlando ti cerca E per te ho gran paura Sebben son mal gradita
Più della mia m’è cara la tua vita.
Aria di Medoro Vorrei poterti amar Il cor ti vorrei dar
Ma sai che mio non è. E s’io ti dessi ‘l cor
A un cor, ch’è traditor, Tu non daresti fe’.
Vorrei poterti amar, etc.
(Parte)
Scena Seconda Dorinda sola
Recitativo Dorinda
Più obbligata gli sono Or che mi dice il vero Son contenta, è sincero;
E sebben nulla spero, e nulla bramo Non meno però adesso ancora io l’amo.
Parte ma viene trattenuta da Orlando.
Scena Terza Orlando e Dorinda
Recitativo Orlando
Pur ti trovo, o mio bene E dopo tante pene
Pur giungo a riveder il tuo sembiante!
Dorinda
(Orlando, il grande Orlando mi si palesa amante!)
Forse meco scherzando, signor, tu vai.
Orlando
Non so scherzar col foco:
E quel che per te m’arde è così fiero Che non trova più loco.
Dorinda
(Par che dica il vero)
Orlando
Tu non rispondi?
Dorinda
(che dirò? Ben grande! Se mi vuole in consorte
Saria per me di questo Eroe la preda: Chi sa? Giove altre volte arse per Leda) Orlando
E tu non parli ancora?
Dimmi crudel, se vuoi, ch’io viva o mora
Aria di Orlando Unisca amor in noi Gli miei, gli affettituoi Venere bella.
Dorinda
Ed innestar tu vuoi Al sangue degli eroi Me pastorella?
Orlando
Unisca amor in noi
Gli miei, gli affetti tuoi Venere bella.
Dorinda
Signor, meglio rifletti Ch’io son Dorinda
Recitativo Orlando
Eh già lo so; tu sei Pronipote de Dei. Ah no: sei l’Argalia
Fratello del mio bene
Che l’empio Ferrauto uccise a torto. Già in me s’accende l’ira.
Dorinda
(Addio speranze! Per mia fe’ delira)
Orlando
Per Angelica mia se tu sei morto Ora ne vuò vendetta:
Vuol tira r la spada, e mettersi in postura di battaglia Dorinda
(Bell’imbroglio per me). Signor aspetta….
Orlando
Sì, sì v’intendo ben, dirmi volete Ch’è Ferraù senz’elmo, e senza spada
Li lascio dunque anch’io, su via, prendete. Or ch’io ho lasciato l’armi
Son pronto a vendicarmi
Getta l’elmo e la spada.
Aria di Orlando
Già lo stringo, già l’abbraccio Con la forza del mio braccio Nuovo Anteo l’alzo da terra: E se vinto non si rende Perché Marte lo difende Marte ancor io sfido a guerra. Son morto, a caro bene, Trafitto da rie pene
Languente cado a terra.
(Parte)
Scena Quarta Angelica e Dorinda
Recitativo Angelica
Di Dorinda all’albergo Trovar Medoro io spero. Dorinda
Ah! Mia signora, vaneggia affatto Orlando
Angelica
Che mi narri, Dorinda?
Dorinda
Di sua strana fo llia sola è cagione D’Angelica l’amor,
E gelosia.
Angelica
Mi fa pietà, ed ingrata Mi crederei
In non averlo amato
Se l’amar fosse arbitrio, e non un fato. Pure se Orlando, ah il concedete, oh Numi! Non fosse più del suo furore oppresso Vorrei sperar, che vinceria se stesso.
Aria di Angelica
Così giusta è questa speme Che se l’alma ancora teme Ingannata è dal timor.
Ma in chi nacque per l’affanno La speranza è quell’inganno Che il piacer cangia in dolor. Così giusta, etc.
(Parte)
Scena Quinta Dorinda sola
Recitativo Dorinda
S’è corrisposto un core Teme ancor del suo amore. Se un altro è mal gradito
Prova il martir del barbaro Cocito.
Nel mar d’amor per tutto v’è lo scoglio
E vedo ben, che amare è un grand’imbroglio.
Aria di Dorinda
Amor è qual vento
Che gira il cervello Ho inteso che a cento Comincia bel bello
A farli godere.
Ma a un corto piacere Dà un lungo dolor
Se uniti due cori Si credon beati Gelosi timori
Li fan sfortunati
Se un core è sprezzato Divien arrabbiato Così fa l’Amor.
Amore è qual vento, etc.
(Parte)
Scena Sesta
Zoroastro accompagnato da’ Geni
Recitativo Zoroastro
Impari ognun da Orlando
Che sovente ragion si perde amando. O voi del mio poter ministri eletti Or la vostra virtute unite meco
Si cangi ‘l bosco in speco.
Fa segno e la scena si trasforma in orrida spelonca Là al fuor dell’eroe siatene attenti
Che fra pochi momenti avrò vittoria E l’eroe renderò sano alla gloria.
Aria di Zoroastro
Sorge infausta una procella Che oscurar fa il cielo e il mare Splende fausta poi la stella Che ogni cor ne fa goder.
Può talor il forte errare Ma risorto dall’errore
Quel che pria gli diè dolore Causa immenso il suo piacer. Sorge infausta, etc.
Parte e li Geni entrano nella spelonca
Scena Settima
Angelica, e Dorinda che piange
Recitativo Angelica
Dorinda, e perché piangi?
Dorinda
Non lo cercar, che al fin se lo saprai
Più di me piangerai
Angelica
Dimmi che avvenne?
Dorinda
Il furioso Orlando
Ha distrutto il mio albergo; eh Oh Dei non moro! Ed ha sepolto vivo il tuo Medoro
Parte piangendo Angelica
Che intendo! Oh sorte ria!
Crudel pur tolto m’hai l’anima mia!
Scena Ottava Orlando e Angelica
Recitativo Orlando
Più non fuggir potrai Perfida Falerina…. Angelica
In me ravvisa
Angelica da te già un tempo amata Ora da te aborrita. Aprimi ‘l petto Levane pur il core
Come l’alma m’hai tolta
E con Medoro l’hai sepolta viva.
Orlando
Sì, sì, devi morir, o core ingrato.
Angelica
Non piango il mio, ma di Medoro il fato
Aria di Angelica
Finchè prendi ancora il sangue Godi intanto
De’ miei lumi al mesto umor.
Orlando
Sol ha sete di sangue il mio cor
Angelica
Che dell’alma mia, che langue Questo pianto
E’ sangue ancor
Orlando
Ma non placa il mio giusto rigor
Recitativo Orlando Vieni….
La prende per forza
Vanne precipitando
Di queste rupi al barbaro profondo
Numi, pietà!
La getta furiosamente nella spelonca, che subito si cangia in un bellissimo Tempio di Marte.
Concitato Orlando
Già per la man d’Orlando
D’ogni mostro più rio purgato è il mondo Ora giunge la notte delle Cimerei grotte Ed è seco Medoro
Che i papaveri suoi sul crin mi sfronda Porgendomi a gustar di Lete l’onda?
Aria di Orlando Già l’ebro mio ciglio Quel dolce liquore Invita a posar.
Tu perfido amore Volando o scherzando Non farmi destar.
Si addormenta sopra di un sasso
Scena Nona
Orlando, che dorme, Zoroastro e poi Dorinda
Recitativo Zoroastro
Ecco il tempo prefisso! Amor, fa quanto puoi
Che Orlando schernirà gl’inganni tuoi.
Recitativo Accompagnato Zoroastro
Tu che del gran tonante Coll’artiglio celeste
Il folgore sostieni
Le mie leggi son queste Rimirando il Cielo Dalla region stellante Che rapida a me vieni Reca il divin liquore
Per risanar dell’egro Orlando il core.
Sinfonia
Fa segno colla verga, e quattro Geni per aria accompagnano un’Aquila che porta un vaso d’oro nel becco. Zoroastro prende il vaso, e l’Aquila colli Geni vola via per aria.
Il mago s’accosta ad Orlando, quando esce Dorinda
Recitativo Dorinda
Ah! Che fate signor?
S’egli si desta
Certo ambedue ne uccide.
Zoroastro
Non temer, che lo voglio oggi guarire.
Dorinda
E’ più sicur lo lasciar dormire.
Sinfonia
Zoroastro getta il liquore sopra il volto d’Orlando; poi si ritira. Orlando si sveglia sano Recitativo
Orlando
Dormo ancora, o son desto? Come qui mi ritrovo
Senz’elmo e senza ‘l mio famoso brando? Chi disarmarmi osò? Parla Dorinda!
Dorinda
Ve lo direi: ma temo che torniate Alla vostra follia
E che lo paghi poi la mia vita Come pure faceste
Ad Angelica e Medor, che voi uccideste.
Orlando
Pur troppo hai detto, ed ho pur troppo udito. E non m’inghiotte il suolo?
Non mi folgora il Cielo? Dove, o misero Orlando
N’andrai per ritrovar chi con la morte Ti tolga al tuo rossore?
Dorinda
Ben lo diss’io, ritorna a impazzire E’ meglio fuggire
Corre via
Aria di Orlando Per far mia diletta Per te la vendetta Orlando si mora.
Corre per andare a precipitarsi, quando rincontra Angelica, che lo trattiene
Scena Ultima
Angelica, Orlando, Medoro, Zoroastro e Dorinda
Recitativo Angelica
Dei vive ancor.
Orlando
Che vedo oh Dei! Angelica tu vivi?
Vivo sì, e vive ancora
Chi amandomi t’offende, e vol la mia sorte….
Medoro
Signor, dammi la morte Non ti chiedo la vita
Senza colei, per cui m’è sol gradita
Zoroastro
Orlando, al tuo furore Geloso di tua gloria
Io fui custode, e dalla morte Io trassi Angelica e Medoro
E per ambo da te la grazia imploro.
Dorinda
Signor vi prego anch’io Sebben perdo (ho un gran cor!) Medoro mio.
Orlando Non più! Udite tutti
Quando sia d’Orlando la più bella gloria.
In questo punto sorge di sotterra in mezzo al tempio il simulacro di Marte col foco acceso sopra l’ara.
Recitativo Accompagnato Orlando
Vinse incanti, battaglie, e fieri mostri Di se stesso, e d’amor oggi ha vittoria. Angelica a Medoro unita godi.
Gli altri
Chi celebrar potrà mai le tue lodi?
Soli e Coro Orlando
Verso Angelica e Medoro
Trionfa oggi ‘l mio cor E da sì bell’aurora Avrò più bello ancora
Un giorno il vostro amor. Angelica e Medoro Trionfa oggi ‘l mio cor
E con più lieta face La fedeltà, la pace Risplenderà d’ognor! Dorinda
Mi scordo ogni dolor Oblio quel che m’affanna V’invito alla capanna
Per festeggiar ancor.
Tutti
Con un diverso ardor
Giacchè ciascun è pago Dar lodi sol sia vago
A gloria ed all’amor.
Handel, “Hercules” (1745)
— posted by Roger W. Smith
HERCULES
A Musical Drama
Words by Thomas Broughton
DRAMATIS PERSONAE
Hercules, surnamed Alcides (bass)
Dejanira, his Wife (mezzo-soprano)
Hyllus, his Son (tenor)
Iole, Princess of Oechalia (soprano)
Lichas, a Herald, Faithful Servant to Dejanira (alto)
Priest of Jupiter (bass)
First Oechalian (soprano)
First Trachinian (tenor)
Chorus of Trachininans
Chorus
________________________________________
ACT ONE
1. Overture
Scene 1
The Palace in Trachis, Thessaly. Dejanira, Lichas and Trachinians.
2. Accompagnato
Lichas
See, with what sad dejection in her looks,
Indulging grief, the mournful princess sits.
She weeps from morning’s dawn to shades of night,
From gloom of night to redd’ning blush of morn,
Uncertain of Alcides’ destiny,
Disconsolate his absence she laments.
3. Air
Lichas
No longer, fate, relentless frown,
Preserve, great Jove, the hero’s life.
With glory’s wreath his actions crown,
And oh, restore him to his mourning wife!
No longer, fate. . . da capo
4. Accompagnato
Dejanira
O Hercules! Why art thou absent from me?
Return, return, my hero, to my arms!
O gods, how racking are the pains of absence
To one who loves, who fondly loves, like me!
5. Air
Dejanira
The world, when day’s career is run,
In darkness mourns the absent sun;
So I, deprived of that dear light
That warm’d my breast and cheer’d my sight,
Deplore in thickest gloom of grief
The absence of the valiant chief.
6. Recitative
Lichas
Princess, be comforted, and hope the best!
A few revolving hours may bring him back,
Once more to bless your longing arms.
Dejanira
Ah no, impossible! He never will return.
Lichas
Forbid it, Heav’n, and all ye guardian pow’rs
That watch o’er virtue, innocence and Iove!
Scene 2
To them Hyllus.
Dejanira
My son, dear image of thy absent sire!
What comfort bringst thou to thy mother’s ear?
Hyllus
Eager to know my father’s destiny,
I bade the priests with solemn sacrifice
Explore the will of Heav’n. The altar smok’d,
The slaughter’d victim bled, when lo, around
The hallow’d walls a sudden glory blaz’d!
The priest acknowledg’d the auspicious omen,
And own’d the present god, when, in a moment,
The temple shook, the glory disappear’d,
And more than midnight darkness veil’d the place.
Lichas
‘Twas dreadful all!
Hyllus
At length the sacred flamen,
Full of the deity, prophetic spoke:
7. Air
Hyllus
« I feel, I feel the god, he swells my breast.
Before my eyes the future stands confest:
I see the valiant chief in death laid low,
And flames aspire from Oeta’s lofty brow. »
8. Recitative
Hyllus
He said; the sacred fury left his breast
And on the ground the fainting prophet fell.
Dejanira
Then I am lost. O dreadful oracle,
My griefs hang heavy on my tortur’d soul,+
And soon will sink me to the realms of night!
There once again I shall behold my Hercules,
Or whirl the lance, or bend the stubborn bow,
Or to the listening ghosts his toils recount.
9. Air
Dejanira
There in myrtle shades reclin’d,
By streams that through Elysium wind,
In sweetest union we shall prove
Eternity of bliss and love.
10. Recitative
Hyllus
Despair not, but let rising hope suspend
Excess of grief, ’till I have learn’d the certainty
Of my dear father’s fate. Tomorrow’s sun
Shall see your Hyllus bend his pious steps
To seek the hero through the travell’d globe.
If yet he lives, I will restore him to you,
Or perish in the search.
11. Air
Hyllus
Where congeal’d the northern streams
Bound in icy fetters stand,
Where the sun’s intenser beams
Scorch the burning Lybian sand,
By honour, love and duty led,
There with daring steps I’ll tread.
12. Chorus of Trachinians
O filial piety, O gen’rous love!
Go, youth inspir’d, thy virtue prove!
Immortal fame attends thee,
And pitying Heav’n befriends thee!
O filial piety. . . da capo
Scene 3
To them Lichas
13. Recitative
Lichas
Banish your fears! The noble Hercules
Lives, and from sacked Oechalia, which his arms
Have levell’d with the ground, returns a conqueror!
Dejanira
O joyful news, welcome as rising day
To the benighted world, or falling showers
To the parched earth! Ye lying omens, hence!
Hence, every anxious thought!
14. Air
Dejanira
Begone, my fears, fly hence, away,
Like clouds before the morning ray!
My hero found,
With laurels crown’d,
Heav’n relenting,
Fate consenting,
Springing joys my griefs control,
And rising transports swell my soul.
Begone, my fears. . . da capo
15. Recitative
Lichas
A train of captives, red with honest wounds,
And low’ring on their chains, attend the conqueror.
But more to grace the pomp of victory,
The lovely lole, Oechalia’s princess,
With captive beauty swells the joyful triumph.
Hyllus
My soul is mov’d for the unhappy princess,
And fain, methinks, I would unbind her chains;
But say, her father, haughty Eurytus?
Lichas
He fell in single combat by the sword of Hercules.
Dejanira
No more, but haste, and wait thy lord’s arrival!
Exit Dejanira.
Lichas
How soon is deepest grief exchanged for bliss!
16. Air
Lichas
The smiling hours of joyful train
On silken pinions waft again
The moments of delight.
Returning pleasures banish woe,
As ebbing streams recruited flow,
And day succeeds to night.
The smiling hours. . . da capo
17. Chorus of Trachinians
Let none despair; relief may come though late,
And Heav’n can snatch us from the verge of fate.
Exeunt.
Scene 4
A square before the PaIace. Iole and Oechalian virgins, led captive.
18. Recitative
Iole
Ye faithful followers of the wretched Iole,
Your bonds sit heavier on me than my own.
Unhappy maids! My fate has dragg’d you down
Like some vast pile, that crushes with its fall
The neighb’ring domes, and spreads wide ruin round it.
First Oechalian
You are our mistress still!
Iole
Alas, Erastia,
Captivity, like the destroyer death,
Throws all distinctions down, and slaves are equal.
But if the gods relent, and give us back
To our lost liberty — ah me! — how soon
The flatt’rer hope is ready with his cordial!
Vain expectation! No, adieu for ever,
Ye smiling joys and innocent delights
Of youth and liberty! Oh, sad remembrance!
19. Air
Iole
Daughter of gods, bright liberty!
With thee a thousand graces reign,
A thousand pleasures crowd thy train
And hail the liveliest deity.
But thou, alas, hast wing’d thy flight,
The graces that surround thy throne
And all the pleasures with thee gone,
Remov’d for ever from my sight.
Daughter of gods. . . da capo
20. Recitative
Iole
But hark, the victor comes!
Scene 5
To them Hercules and attendants.
21. March
22. Recitative
Hercules
Thanks to the pow’rs above, but chief to thee,
Father of gods, from whose immortal loins
I drew my birth! Now my long toils are o’er,
And Juno’s rage appeas’d. With pleasure now,
At rest, my various labours I review.
OechaIia’s fall is added to my titles
And points the rising summit of my glory.
(Turning to Iole)
Fair princess, weep no more! Forget these bonds,
In Trachin you are free, as in Oechalia.
Iole
Forgive me, generous victor, if a sigh
For my dear father, for my friends, my country,
Will have its way. I cannot yet forget
That such things were, and that I once enjoy’d them.
23. Air
Iole
My father! Ah, methinks I see
The sword inflict the deadly wound:
He bleeds, he falls in agony,
Dying he bites the crimson ground.
Peaceful rest, dear parent shade,
Light the earth be on thee laid!
In thy daughter’s pious mind
All thy virtues live enshrin’d.
Exeunt Iole and Oechalians
Scene 6
24. Recitative
Hercules
Now farewell, arms! From hence, the tide of time
Shall bear me gently down to mellow age.
>From war to love I fly, my cares to lose
In gentle Dejanira’s fond embrace.
25. Air
Hercules
The god of battle quits the bloody field,
And useless hang the glitt’ring spear and shield,
While, all resign’d to conqu’ring beauty’s charms,
He gives a Ioose to Iove in Cytherea’s arms.
26. Chorus of Trachinians
Crown with festal pomp the day,
Be mirth extravagantly gay.
Bid the grateful altars smoke,
Bid the maids the youths provoke
To join the dance, while music’s voice
Tells aloud our rapt’rous joys!
ACT TWO
Scene 1
An apartment. Iole and Oechalians.
27. Sinfonia
28. Recitative
Iole
Why was I born a princess, rais’d on high,
To fall with greater ruin? Had the gods
Made me the humble tenant of some cottage,
I had been happy.
29. Air
Iole
How blest the maid ordained to dwell
With sweet content in humble cell,
From cities far remov’d,
By murm’ring rills on verdant plains
To tend the flocks with village swains,
By every swain belov’d.
Scene 2
To her Dejanira.
30. Recitative
Dejanira (aside)
It must be so! Fame speaks aloud my wrongs,
And every voice proclaims Alcides’ falsehood;
Love, jealousy and rage at once distract me!
Iole
What anxious cares untimely thus disturb
The happy consort of the son of Jove?
Dejanira
Insulting maid! I had indeed been happy,
But for the fatal lustre of thy beauty!
31. Air
Dejanira
When beauty sorrow’s livery wears,
Our passions take the fair one’s part.
Love dips his arrows in her tears,
And sends them pointed to the heart.
When beauty. . . da capo
32. Recitative
Iole
Whence this unjust suspicion?
Dejanira
Fame of thy beauty, so report informs me,
First brought Alcides to Oechalia’s court.
He saw, he lov’d, he ask’d you of your father.
His suit rejected, in revenge he levell’d
The haughty town, and bore away the spoil:
But the rich prize, for which he fought and conquer’d,
Was lole.
Iole
Ah, no! It was ambition,
Not slighted love, that laid Oechalia low
And made the wretched lole a captive.
Report, that in the garb of truth disguises
The blackest falsehood, has abus’d your ear
With a forg’d tale; but oh, let me conjure you
For your dear peace of mind, beware of jealousy!
33. Air
Iole
Ah, think what ills the jealous prove!
Adieu to peace, adieu to love,
Exchang’d for endless pain.
With venom fraught the bosom swells,
And never-ceasing discord dwells
Where harmony should reign.
Ah, think what ills. . . da capo
34. Recitative
Dejanira (going)
It is too sure that Hercules is false.
Scene 3
Enter Lichas.
Lichas
My godlike master?
Dejanira
Is a traitor, Lichas.
Traitor to honour, love and Dejanira.
Lichas
Alcides false? Impossible.
35. Air
Lichas
As stars, that rise and disappear,
Still in the same bright circle move,
So shines unchang’d thy hero’s love,
Nor absence can his faith impair.
The breast where gen’rous valour dwells,
In constancy no less excels.
As stars. . .da capo
36. Recitative
Dejanira
In vain you strive his falsehood to disguise.
Exit Dejanira.
Lichas
This is thy work, accursed jealousy.
37. Chorus
Jealousy! Infernal pest,
Tyrant of the human breast!
How from slightest causes bred
Dost thou lift thy hated head!
Trifles. light as floating air.
Strongest proofs to thee appear!
Exit Lichas.
Scene 4
Iole; to her Hyllus.
38. Recitative
Hyllus (aside, entering)
She knows my passion, and has heard me breathe
My am’rous vows; but, deaf to the soft plea,
Rejects my offer’d love. See where she stands,
Like fair Diana, circled by her nymphs.
Iole
Too well, young prince,
I guess the cause that this way leads your steps.
Why will you urge a suit I must not hear?
Love finds no dwelling in that hapless breast
Where sorrow and her gloomy train reside.
Hyllus
The stealing hand of all-subduing time
May drive these black intruders from their seat,
And leave the heav’nly mansion of thy bosom
Serene and vacant to a softer guest.
Iole
Think’st thou Iole can ever love
The son of Hercules, whose arms depriv’d her
Of country, father, liberty? Impossible!
Hyllus
I own the truths that blast my springing hopes;
Yet, oh permit me, chairming maid, to gaze
On those dear beauties that enchant my soul
And view, at Ieast, that heav’n I must despair to gain.
Iole
Is this, is this the son of Hercules,
For labours fam’d and hardy deeds of arms?
O prince, exert the virtues of thy race,
And call forth all thy father in thy soul.
39. Air
Iole
Banish love from thy breast,
‘Tis a womanish guest,
Fit only mean thoughts to inspire.
Bright glory invites thee,
Fair honour excites thee,
To tread in the steps of thy sire.
Banish love. . . da capo
40. Recitative
Hyllus
Forgive a passion, which resistless sways
Ev’n breasts immortal.
41. Air
Hyllus
From celestial seats descending,
Joys divine a while suspending,
Gods have left their Heav’n above
To taste the sweeter heav’n of love.
Cease my passion then to blame,
Cease to scorn a godlike flame.
From celestial seats. . . da capo
42. Chorus
Wanton god of am’rous fires,
Wishes, sighs and soft desires,
All nature’s sons thy laws maintain.
O’er liquid air, firm land and swelling main
Extend thy uncontroll’d and boundless reign.
Scene 5
Another apartment. Hercules and Dejanira.
43. Recitative
Dejanira
Yes, I congratulate your titles, swell’d
With proud Oechalia’s fall; but oh, I grieve
To see the victor to the vanquish’d yield.
How lost, alas, how fall’n from what you were,
Your fame eclips’d, and all your laurels blasted!
Hercules
Unjust reproach! No, Dejanira, no,
While glorious deeds demand a just applause!
44. Air
Hercules
Alcides’ name in latest story
Shall with brightest lustre shine,
And future heroes rise to glory
By actions emulating mine.
Alcides’ name. . . da capo
45. Recitative
Dejanira
O glorious pattern of heroic deeds!
The mighty warrior, whom not Juno’s hate,
Nor a Iong series of incessant labours
Could e’er subdue, a captive maid has conquer’d.
O shame to manhood! O disgrace of arms!
46. Air
Dejanira
Resign thy club and lion’s spoils,
And fly from war to female toils!
For the glitt’ring sword and shield
The spindle and the distaff wield!
Thund’ring Mars no more shall arm thee,
Glory’s call no more shall warm thee,
Venus and her whining boy
Shall all thy wanton hours employ.
Resign thy club. . . da capo
47. Recitative
Hercules
You are deceiv’d! Some villain has bely’d
My ever-faithful love and constancy.
Dejanira
Would it were so, and that the babbler fame
Had not through all the Grecian cities spread
The shameful tale!
Hercules
The priests of Jupiter
Prepare with solemn rites to thank the god
For the success of my victorious arms.
The ready sacrifice expects my presence.
I go. Meantime let these suspicions sleep
Nor causeless jealousy alarm your breast!
Exit.
Scene 6
Dejanira
Dissembling, false, perfidious Hercules!
Did he not swear, when first he woo’d my Iove,
The sun should cease to dawn, the silver moon
Be blotted from her orb, ere he prov’d false?
48. Air
Dejanira
Cease, ruler of the day, to rise,
Nor, Cynthia, gild the evening skies!
To your bright beams he made appeal,
With endless night his falsehood seal!
49. Recitative
Dejanira
Some kinder pow’r inspire me to regain
His alienated love, and bring the wand’rer back!
Ah, lucky thought! I have a garment
Dipped in Nessus’ blood, when·from the wound he drew
The barbed shaft, sent by Alcides’ hand.
It boasts a wondrous virtue, to revive
Th’expiring flame of love. So Nessus told me,
When dying to my hand he trusted it.
I will prevail with Hercules to wear it
And prove its magic force. — And see, the herald,
Fit instrument to execute my purpose.
Scene 7
To her Lichas.
Dejanira
Lichas, thy hands shall to the temple bear
A rich embroider’d robe, and beg thy lord
Will instant o’er his manly shoulders throw
His consort’s gift, the pledge of love’s renewal.
Lichas
O pleasing task, O happy Hercules!
50. Air
Lichas
Constant lovers, never roving,
Never jealous torments proving,
Calm, imperfect pleasures taste.
But the bliss to rapture growing,
Bliss from reconcilement flowing,
This is love’s sublime repast.
51. Recitative
Dejanira
But see, the princess Iole. Retire!
Exit Lichas.
Dejanira
Be still, my jealous fears, and let my tongue
Disguise the torture of my bleeding heart.
Scene 8
Enter Iole.
Dejanira
Forgive me, princess, if my jealous frenzy
Too roughly greeted you! I see and blame
The error that misled me to insult
That innocence and beauty.
Iole
Thank the gods
That have inspir’d your mind with calmer thoughts.
And from your breast remov’d the vulture, jealousy.
Live, and be happy in Alcides’ love.
While wretched lole… (weeping)
Dejanira
Princess, no more! But lift those beauteous eyes
To the fair prospect of returning happiness.
At my request Alcides shall restore you
To liberty, and your paternal throne.
52. Duet
Dejanira
Joys of freedom, joys of pow’r,
Wait upon the coming hour
And court thee to be blest.
Iole
What heav’nly-pleasing sounds I hear,
How sweet they steal upon my ear
And charm my soul to rest!
Exit Iole.
53. Recitative
Dejanira
Father of Hercules, great Jove, oh help
This last expedient of despairing love!
54. Chorus
Love and Hymen, hand in hand,
Come, restore the nuptial band!
And sincere delights prepare
To crown the hero and the fair.
Love and Hymen. . . da capo
ACT THREE
55. Sinfonia
Scene 1
Lichas and Trachinians.
56. Recitative
Lichas
Ye sons of Trachin, mourn your valiant chief,
Return’d from foes and dangers threat’ning death
To fall, inglorious, by a woman’s hand.
First Trachinian
Oh, doleful tindings!
Lichas
As the hero stood
Prepar’d for sacrifice, and festal pomp
Adorn’d the temple, these unlucky hands
Presented him, in Dejanira’s name,
A costly robe, the pledge of love’s renewal.
With smiles that testified his rising joy,
Alcides o’er his manly shoulders threw
The treach’rous gift. But when the altar’s flame
Began to shed its warmth upon his limbs,
The clinging robe, by cursed art envenom’d,
Through all his joints dispers’d a subtle poison.
Frantic with agonizing pain, he flings
His tortur’d body on the sacred floor,
Then strives to rip the deadly garment off,
But with it tears the bleeding, mangled flesh;
His dreadful cries the vaulted roof returns!
57. Air
Lichas
O scene of unexampl’d woe,
O sun of glory sunk so low!
What language can our sorrow tell?
Gallant, unhappy chief, farewell!
58. Chorus of Trachinians
Tyrants now no more shall dread
On necks of vanquish’d slaves to tread.
Horrid forms of monstrous birth
Again shall vex the groaning earth.
Fear of punishment is o’er,
The world’s avenger is no more!
Scene 2
The Temple of Jupiter. Hercules, Priests and Attendants.
59. Accompagnato
Hercules
O Jove, what land is this, what clime accurst,
By raging Phoebus scorch’d? I burn, I burn,
Tormenting fire consumes me. Oh, I die,
Some ease, ye pitying powers! — I rage, I rage,
With more than Stygian pains.
Along my feverish veins,
Like liquid fire the subtle poison hastes.
Boreas, bring thy northern blast,
And through my bosom roar!
Or, Neptune, kindly pour
Ocean’s collected flood
Into my breast and cool my boiling blood!
60. Recitative
Hyllus
Great Jove, relieve his pains!
Hercules
Was it for this unnumber’d toils I bore?
O Juno and Eurystheus, I absolve ye!
Your keenest malice yield to Dejanira’s,
Mistaken, cruel, treach’rous Dejanira!
Oh, this curst robe! It clings to my torn sides
And drinks my vital blood.
Hyllus
Alas, my father!
Hercules
My son, observe thy dying sire’s request!
While yet I live, bear me to Œta’s top;
There, on the summit of that cloud-capped hill,
The tow’ring oak and lofty cypress fell,
And raise a funeral pile: upon it lay me.
Then fire the kindling heap, that I may mount
On wings of flame, to mingle with the gods!
Hyllus
O glorious thought! Worthy the son of Jove!
Hercules
My pains redouble — Oh, be quick, my son.
And bear me to the scene of glorious death!
Hyllus
How is the hero fall’n!
61. Air
Hyllus
Let not fame the tidings spread
To proud Oechalia’s conquer’d wall!
The baffled foe will lift his head,
And triumph in his victor’s fall.
Let not fame. . . da capo
Exeunt. Hercules borne off.
Scene 3
The Palace. Dejanira alone.
62. Accompagnato
Dejanira
Where shall I fly? Where hide this guilty head?
O fatal error of misguided love!
O cruel Nessus, how art thou reveng’d!
Wretched I am! By me Alcides dies!
These impious hands have sent my injur’d lord
Untimely to the shades! Let me be mad!
Chain me, ye Furies, to your iron beds,
And lash my guilty ghost with whips of scorpions!
See, see, they come! Alecto with her snakes,
Megaera fell, and black Tisiphone!
See the dreadful sisters rise,
Their baneful presence taints the skies!
See the snaky whips they bear!
What yellings rend my tortur’d ear!
Hide me from their hated sight,
Friendly shades of blackest night!
Alas, no rest the guilty find
>From the pursuing furies of the mind!
Scene 4
Dejanira; to her Iole.
63. Recitative
Dejanira
Lo, the fair fatal cause of all this ruin!
Fly from my sight, detested sorceress, fly,
Lest my ungovern’d fury rush upon thee,
And scatter thee to all the winds of Heav’n!
Alas, I rave! The lovely maid is innocent,
And I alone the guilty cause of all!
Iole
Though torn from every joy, a father’s love,
My native land and dear-priz’d liberty.
By Hercules’ arms, still must I pity
The countless woes of this unhappy house.
64. Air
Iole
My breast with tender pity swells
At sight of human woe;
And sympathetic anguish feels
Where’er Heav’n strikes the blow.
My breast. . . da capo
Scene 5
To them the Priest of Jupiter, Hyllus, Lichas and Trachinians.
65. Recitative
Priest of Jupiter
Princess, rejoice, whose Heav’n-directed hand
Has rais’d Alcides to the court of Jove’s!
Dejanira
Speak, priest, what means this dark, mysterious greeting?
That he is dead, and by this fatal hand,
Too sure, alas, my bleeding heart divines.
Priest
Borne, by his own command, to Oeta’s top,
Stretched on a funeral pile, the hero lay.
The crackling flames surround his manly limbs,
When lo, an eagle, stooping from the clouds,
Swift to the burning pile his flight directs!
There lights a moment, then, with speedy wing,
Regains the sky. Astonish’d, we consult
The sacred grove, where sounds oracular
From vocal oaks disclose the will of Jove.
Here the great sire his offspring’s fate declar’d:
« His mortal part by eating fires consum’d,
His part immortal to Olympus borne,
There with assembl’d deities to dwell! »
66. Air
Lichas
He, who for Atlas propp’d the sky,
Now sees the sphere beneath him lie,
In bright abodes
Of kindred gods,
A new-admitted guest,
With purple lips
Brisk nectar sips,
And shares th’ambrosial feast.
67. Recitative
Dejanira
Words are too faint to speak the warring passions
That combat in my breast: grief, wonder, joy
By turns deject and elevate my soul.
Priest (to Iole)
Nor less thy destiny, illustrious maid,
Is Jove’s peculiar care, who thus decrees:
« Hymen with purest joys of love shall crown
Oechalia’s princess and the son of Hercules. »
Hyllus
How blest is Hyllus, if the lovely lole,
Consenting, ratifies the gift of Heav’n!
Iole
What Jove ordains, can lole resist?
68. Duet
Iole
O prince, whose virtues all admire,
Since Jove has every bar remov’d,
I feel my vanquish’d heart conspire
To crown a flame by Heav’n approv’d.
Hyllus
O princess, whose exalted charms
Above ambition fire my breast,
How great my joy to fill those arms,
At once with love and empire blest!
Iole
I grieve no more, since now I see
All happiness restor’d in thee.
Hyllus
I ask no more, since now I find
All earthly good in thee combin’d.
69. Recitative
Priest
Ye sons of freedom, now, in every clime,
With joyful accents sing the deathless chief,
By virtue to the starry mansions rais’d.
70. Chorus of Trachinians
To him your grateful notes of praise belong,
The theme of liberty’s immortal song!
Aw’d by his name, oppression shuns the light,
And slavery hides her head in depths of night,
While happy climes to his example owe
The blessings that from peace and freedom flow.
To him. . . da capo
Acis and Galatea is set to a libretto by John Gay which is based on Ovid’s Metamorphoses; there is some uncertainty as to whether Gay was the only author of the text. The libretto borrowed freely from John Dryden’s English translation of Ovid published in 1717.
1. Sinfonia
2. Chorus
Oh, the pleasure of the plains!
Happy nymphs and happy swains,
Harmless, merry, free and gay,
Dance and sport the hours away.
For us the zephyr blows,
For us distills the dew,
For us unfolds the rose,
And flow’rs display their hue.
For us the winters rain,
For us the summers shine,
Spring swells for us the grain,
And autumn bleeds the wine.
Oh, the pleasure. . . da capo.
3. Accompagnato
Galatea
Ye verdant plains and woody mountains,
Purling streams and bubbling fountains,
Ye painted glories of the field,
Vain are the pleasures which ye yield;
Too thin the shadow of the grove,
Too faint the gales, to cool my love.
4. Air
Galatea
Hush, ye pretty warbling quire!
Your thrilling strains
Awake my pains,
And kindle fierce desire.
Cease your song, and take your flight,
Bring back my Acis to my sight!
Hush. . . da capo
5. Air
Acis
Where shall I seek the charming fair?
Direct the way, kind genius of the mountains!
O tell me, if you saw my dear!
Seeks she the grove, or bathes in crystal fountains?
Where. . . da capo
6. Recitative
Damon
Stay, shepherd, stay!
See, how thy flocks in yonder valley stray!
What means this melancholy air?
No more thy tuneful pipe we hear.
7. Air
Damon
Shepherd, what art thou pursuing?
Heedless running to thy ruin;
Share our joy, our pleasure share,
Leave thy passion till tomorrow,
Let the day be free from sorrow,
Free from love, and free from care!
Shepherd. . . da capo
8. Recitative
Acis
Lo, here my love, turn, Galatea, hither turn thy eyes!
See, at thy feet the longing Acis lies.
9. Air
Acis
Love in her eyes sits playing,
And sheds delicious death;
Love on her lips is straying,
And warbling in her breath!
Love on her breast sits panting
And swells with soft desire;
No grace, no charm is wanting,
To set the heart on fire.
Love in her eyes. . . da capo
10. Recitative
Galatea
Oh, didst thou know the pains of absent love,
Acis would ne’er from Galatea rove.
11. Air
Galatea
As when the dove
Laments her love,
All on the naked spray;
When he returns,
No more she mourns,
But loves the live-long day.
Billing, cooing,
Panting, wooing,
Melting murmurs fill the grove,
Melting murmurs, lasting love.
As when. . . da capo
12. Duet
Galatea, Acis
Happy we!
What joys I feel!
What charms I see
Of all youths/nymphs thou dearest boy/brightest fair!
Thou all my bliss, thou all my joy!
Happy. . . da capo
13. Chorus
Wretched lovers! Fate has past
This sad decree: no joy shall last.
Wretched lovers, quit your dream!
Behold the monster Polypheme!
See what ample strides he takes!
The mountain nods, the forest shakes;
The waves run frighten’d to the shores:
Hark, how the thund’ring giant roars!
14. Accompagnato
Polyphemus
I rage — I melt — I burn!
The feeble god has stabb’d me to the heart.
Thou trusty pine,
Prop of my godlike steps, I lay thee by!
Bring me a hundred reeds of decent growth
To make a pipe for my capacious mouth;
In soft enchanting accents let me breathe
Sweet Galatea’s beauty, and my love.
15. Air
Polyphemus
O ruddier than the cherry,
O sweeter than the berry,
O nymph more bright
Than moonshine night,
Like kidlings blithe and merry.
Ripe as the melting cluster,
No lily has such lustre;
Yet hard to tame
As raging flame,
And fierce as storms that bluster!
O ruddier. . . da capo
16. Recitative
Polyphemus
Whither, fairest, art thou running,
Still my warm embraces shunning?
Galatea
The lion calls not to his prey,
Nor bids the wolf the lambkin stay.
Polyphemus
Thee, Polyphemus, great as Jove,
Calls to empire and to love,
To his palace in the rock,
To his dairy, to his flock,
To the grape of purple hue,
To the plum of glossy blue,
Wildings, which expecting stand,
Proud to be gather’d by thy hand.
Galatea
Of infant limbs to make my food,
And swill full draughts of human blood!
Go, monster, bid some other guest!
I loathe the host, I loathe the feast.
17. Air
Polyphemus
Cease to beauty to be suing,
Ever whining love disdaining.
Let the brave their aims pursuing,
Still be conqu’ring not complaining.
Cease. . . da capo
18. Air
Damon
Would you gain the tender creature,
Softly, gently, kindly treat her:
Suff’ring is the lover’s part.
Beauty by constraint possessing
You enjoy but half the blessing,
Lifeless charms without the heart.
Would you. . . da capo
19. Recitative
Acis
His hideous love provokes my rage.
Weak as I am, I must engage!
Inspir’d with thy victorious charms,
The god of love will lend his arms.
20. Air
Acis
Love sounds th’alarm,
And fear is a-flying!
When beauty’s the prize,
What mortal fears dying?
In defence of my treasure,
I’d bleed at each vein;
Without her no pleasure,
For life is a pain.
Love sounds. . . da capo
21. Air
Damon
Consider, fond shepherd,
How fleeting’s the pleasure,
That flatters our hopes
In pursuit of the fair!
The joys that attend it,
By moments we measure,
But life is too little
To measure our care.
Consider. . . da capo
22. Recitative
Galatea
Cease, oh cease, thou gentle youth,
Trust my constancy and truth,
Trust my truth and pow’rs above,
The pow’rs propitious still to love!
23. Trio
Galatea & Acis
The flocks shall leave the mountains,
The woods the turtle dove,
The nymphs forsake the fountains,
Ere I forsake my love!
Polyphemus
Torture! fury! rage! despair!
I cannot, cannot bear!
Galatea & Acis
Not show’rs to larks so pleasing,
Nor sunshine to the bee,
Not sleep to toil so easing,
As these dear smiles to me.
Polyphemus
Fly swift, thou massy ruin, fly!
Die, presumptuous Acis, die!
24. Accompagnato
Acis
Help, Galatea! Help, ye parent gods!
And take me dying to your deep abodes.
25. Chorus
Mourn, all ye muses! Weep, all ye swains!
Tune, tune your reeds to doleful strains!
Groans, cries and howlings fill the neighb’ring shore:
Ah, the gentle Acis is no more!
26. Solo & Chorus
Galatea
Must I my Acis still bemoan,
Inglorious crush’d beneath that stone?
Chorus
Cease, Galatea, cease to grieve!
Bewail not whom thou canst relieve.
Galatea
Must the lovely charming youth
Die for his constancy and truth?
Chorus
Cease, Galatea, cease to grieve!
Bewail not whom thou canst relieve;
Call forth thy pow’r, employ thy art,
The goddess soon can heal thy smart.
Galatea
Say what comfort can you find?
For dark despair o’erclouds my mind.
Chorus
To kindred gods the youth return,
Through verdant plains to roll his urn.
27. Recitative
Galatea
‘Tis done! Thus I exert my pow’r divine;
Be thou immortal, though thou art not mine!
28. Air
Galatea
Heart, the seat of soft delight,
Be thou now a fountain bright!
Purple be no more thy blood,
Glide thou like a crystal flood.
Rock, thy hollow womb disclose!
The bubbling fountain, lo! it flows;
Through the plains he joys to rove,
Murm’ring still his gentle love.
29. Chorus
Galatea, dry thy tears,
Acis now a god appears!
See how he rears him from his bed,
See the wreath that binds his head.
Hail! thou gentle murm’ring stream,
Shepherds’ pleasure, muses’ theme!
Through the plains still joy to rove,
Murm’ring still thy gentle love.
— posted by Roger W. Smith
January 2016
It’s a close call as far as I am concerned as to which is my favorite of Mozart’s late symphonies:
Symphony No. 36 in C major, K. 425 (known as the Linz Symphony); or
Symphony No. 40 in G minor, K. 550.
I became acquainted with both at a very early age thanks to recordings my parents had. The “Linz’ Symphony was a favorite of my mother, Elinor Handy Smith.
I love the slow buildup in the opening of Symphony No. 36 (the “Linz”); it makes me think of someone tiptoeing up a flight of stairs.
According to a Wikipedia entry
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Symphony_No._36_(Mozart)
The “Linz” Symphony was written by Mozart during a stopover in the Austrian town of Linz on his and his wife’s way back home to Vienna from Salzburg in late 1783. The entire symphony was written in four days to accommodate the local count’s announcement, upon hearing of the Mozarts’ arrival in Linz, of a concert. The autograph score of the symphony has not been preserved.
— Roger W. Smith
