Monthly Archives: January 2016

Vivaldi, “Juditha triumphans”

 

https://rogersgleanings.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/01/side-1-1.mp3?_=1 https://rogersgleanings.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/01/side-2-1.mp3?_=2 https://rogersgleanings.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/01/side-3-1.mp3?_=3 https://rogersgleanings.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/01/side-4-1.mp3?_=4

 

Juditha triumphans (first performed around 1717, date unknown) is the only one of four oratorios known to have been composed by Antonio Vivaldi (1678-1741) that has survived.

Juditha triumphans holds a special place in my mental inventory of Vivaldi’s works; and this performance is magnificent.

Juditha triumphans is characteristically and quintessentially a Vivaldi work, and yet it was a revelation for me, because it is different from all his other works. You can hear “Vivaldian” strains, harmonies, orchestration, and tempos throughout; and yet, needless to, this work is not a concerto, sinfonia, or sonata; is not one of Vivaldi’s unsurpassable sacred pieces; nor an opera.

The oratorio survives completely intact, except for the overture, which  has been lost. The Latin libretto was written by Iacopo Cassetti, based upon the Book of Judith.

The Book of Judith is an Old Testament book. It tells the story of a Jewish widow, Judith, who uses her beauty and charm to destroy an Assyrian general (Holofernes), to save Israel from oppression.

At about 1:35 of the first track, begins a short, beautiful, typically Vivaldian passage which gets repeated several times (also, for example, at around 2:30 and 3:38). It radiates typical  Vivaldian “charm.”

 

— Roger W. Smith

   July 2020

 

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Pars prima

Arma, cædes, vindictæ, furores

Latin text

CHORUS (militum pugnantium in acie cum timpano bellico)

Arma, cædes, vindictæ, furores,
angustiæ, timores
precedite nos.
Rotate,
pugnate
O bellicæ sortes,
mille plagas,
mille mortes
adducite vos.

English translation

CHOIR (of soldiers fighting on the battlefield, with battle drums)
Weapons, carnage, vengeance, fury,
famine and fear:
precede us!
Encircle,
give battle,
oh fates of War:
a thousand wounds,
a thousand deaths,
inflict.

Felix en fausta dies

HOLOFERNES
Felix et fausta dies
o magnanimi eroes et fortunati:
prospera vobis sors, sydera, cælum:
et post sæcula tandem
venit optata lux, lux suspirata,
qua magni in vestro Duce,
qua Dux Magnus in vobis:
cunctis æqua
erit tandem Victoria,
et vestro invicto Regi
honor, et gloria.
Nil arma, nil bella,
nil fiamma furoris
si cor bellatoris
est cadens in se.
Si pugnat sperando,
iam virtus pugnando
vigescit in spe.

VAGAUS
Mi Dux, Domine mi…

HOLOFERNES
Et quid ne petis?

VAGAUS
Felicitatis tuæ Nuncius accedo.

HOLOFERNES
Quidne fausti tu refers?

VAGAUS
Nil nisi Gloriæ tuæ grande incrementum,
et vere oculis tuis dulce portentum.

HOLOFERNES
Dic.

HOLOFERNES
[It is a] splendid and joyous day,
you noble and fortunate heroes!
The fate, the stars, the heaven are on your side:
After so many centuries
has the long-awaited light come, which was long-desired,
by which you will be great through your leader
and your leader great through you.
Equally yet today
shall you share the victory
and with your undefeated king,
honour and glory
Nothing are the weapons, the battles,
nothing the flame of raging war
if the warrior’s heart
has sunk.
He who fights with hope
shall find in hope
yet the strength to fight.

VAGAUS
My commander, my Lord…

HOLOFERNES
What do you want?

VAGAUS
I come as the bearer of your good fortune.

HOLOFERNES
What good news do you bring?

VAGAUS
Nothing but a great addition to your glory,
and, truly, a sweet portent to your eyes.

HOLOFERNES
Speak.
Matrona inimica/Huc accedat Matrona

VAGAUS
Matrona inimica
te quærit ad arma
dux magne Holofernes.
Et cito deh, credas,
tibi erit amica
si lumina cernes.

HOLOFERNES
Huc accedat Matrona,
et sit armorum Marti ebrea Bellona.
In Bethulia vilescunt
hostes miseri geni: undique luctus
sævus undique clamor.
Hic anhelat,
hic gemit, ille plorat,
dolent omnes;
nil nisi timor, nil nisi mærentium
ignavia, desperatio, afflictio, inopia,
et lacrimarum copia.

VAGAUS
A noble lady of the enemy
is asking of you to the guards,
mighty lord Holofernes.
And soon, believe me,
she will be yours
if you just set your gaze upon her.

HOLOFERNES
Let the noble lady through,
and may she be the Hebrew Bellona to the armies of Mars.
In Bethulia have become weak
the armies of th[is] miserable people; everywhere is mourning
and everywhere wild raging.
There one gasps for breath,
there another groans, another weeps,
all suffer.
Nothing but fear, nothing but sorrow,
despondency, despair, pain, poverty,
and many tears are shed.
Veni fœmina illustris

VAGAUS
Veni fœmina illustris,
pulchra bellatrix huc,
lumine, et pede
videntes feri,
et generosa accede.

JUDITHA
Quocum patriæ me ducit amore
libertatis dulcissima spes,
summo ductus a cæli fulgore
tuto pergat per classica pes.

ABRA
Ne timeas non, lætare
casta Vidua dilecta
certa virtutis tuæ munera expecta.

Vultus tui vago splendori
cedit ira ridet amor.
Ac tui numinis honori
lætus plaudit omnium clamor;
vide, humilis prostrata
in vultus tui nitore,
quam estatica sit gens tanta armata.

JUDITHA
Nil moræ. Ad Holofernem
me ducite benigni
duces bellici honoris,
pacis en nuntia venio, et non furoris.

VAGAUS
Come, illustrious lady,
beautiful warrior, come near;
with your eyes and bearing
you bring close to you all who observe,
approach, noble one.

JUDITH
Wherever the love of my fatherland
and sweetest hope of freedom lead me,
as I’m guided by the highest rays of heaven,
may I walk safely among these throngs

MAID
Do not fear, be glad,
virtuous and esteemed widow,
be certain that you shall receive
[rewards worthy of your virtue.
Through the dazzling countenance of your face
anger fades away, and smiles love.
And in honour of your spirit
all cry with shouts of joy.
Hark, humbly prostrated
before the glory of your face
lie these well-armed people.

JUDITH
No more! To Holofernes,
please, guide me now,
valiant leaders of battles.
I come as a harbinger of peace, not of the rage of war.
O quam vaga, venusta, o quam decora

VAGAUS et CHORUS
O quam vaga, venusta, o quam decora,
ospes nostræ victoriæ unica, et vera.

Tentoria vultu tuo ducis honora
et cuncta ab Holoferne attende, et spera.

VAGAUS and CHOIR
How lovely, fair, how pretty you are,
our only and true hope of victory!

Honour the tent of the leader with your gaze,
and place your hope in Holofernes.
Quem vides prope

VAGAUS
Quem vides prope, aspectu
terribili, et suavi,
quem quæris, ipse hic est: amore, et fide,
in ipso pulchra Sion spera, et confide.

Quamvis ferro, et ense gravis
dulcis tamen et suavis
pro te Dux erit, o bella.

Tibi tua tu sors et fatum,
nec per te fremit iratum,
tua pupilla fit tua stella.

HOLOFERNES
Quid cerno! Oculi mei
stupidi quid videtis!
solis, an cæli splendor!
ah summæ prolis
vincunt lumina sua lumina solis.

Sistite, viatrici!
preparate trophea, spargite flores,
et obvient Divæ suæ teneri Amores.

VAGAUS
He whom you see close-by, whose countenance
is terrifying yet charming,
is the one whom you seek; with love and faith,
in him, fair Zion, place your trust, and have confidence.

Though is sword is made of heavy iron,
a sweet and gentle
leader he shall be for you, comely one.

Yours are your fate and destiny,
and he shan’t tremble with rage fore you;
may your eye be your guiding star.

HOLOFERNES
What do I see? My baffled eyes,
what did you see?
The sun, the splendor of heaven!
Ah, best of beings,
your eyes shame the sun’s light!

Stay put, merchant-ladies!
Prepare tributes, spread flowers
and may tender cupids come meet their goddess.
Summe Rex, strenue miles

JUDITHA
Summe Rex, strenue miles,
nabuc Regis cor, cuius in manu
stat suprema potestas, nutui cuius
fortuna, et sors obedit,
et cuncta iura sua gloria concedit.

HOLOFERNES
O quam pulchrior in pulchro
virtus est ore sonans! Quidnam petis,
suavissima supplex?

JUDITH
Greatest king, valiant soldier,
heart of king Nebuch, in whose hands
rests supreme power, whose will fate
and fortune obey
and whose glory ensures all justice.

HOLOFERNES
Oh, how much prietter sounds virtue
when spoken by a pretty mouth! What do you seek,
most charming of supplicants?
Non mihi, patriæ meæ

JUDITHA
Non mihi, patriæ meæ
spem salutis exoro,
et sic Bethuliæ a te pacem imploro.
Quanto magis generosa,
plus victori gloriosa
venia victo magis cara.
O quam pulchra tua potentia
illustrata tua clementia!
parce Dux, ac tolle amara.

JUDITH
Not for me, [but] for my homeland
I beg for the hope of salvation,
and thus I implore you to give peace to Bethulia.
How much more magnanimous,
how much more glorious to the conquerer
how much dearer [is] mercy to the conquered.
How greater [would] your power be
[if] shown by your mercy!
Spare [us], Lord, and ease our bitter condition.
Magna, o fœmina petis

HOLOFERNES
Magna, o fœmina petis,
quæ maxima, si dentur!
majora sed a me tibi debentur.
O timpana silete,
recedite o Phalanges,
cedite amori meo, cedite invictæ
faces, tela, sagittæ,
et vos bellica in campo impia tormenta
estote in gaudio meo nova contenta.
Hic sede amica mea.

JUDITHA
Non tantus honor
tuæ famulæ donetur.

HOLOFERNES
Tu me honoras.

JUDITHA
Te colo.

HOLOFERNES
Sedeas hic.

JUDITHA
Non debeo, non.

HOLOFERNES
You ask great things, woman,
yet even bigger you’d be given, if you asked them!
But I owe you even more.
Be silent, drums,
move back, phalanxes,
yield to my love, yield to the undefeated
countenance, spears, arrows,
and you, wicked engines of war on the battlefield,
find new fulfillment in my joy.
Sit here, my love.

JUDITH
Such great honour
shouldn’t be given to your servant.

HOLOFERNES
You bring me honour.

JUDITH
I am your servant .

HOLOFERNES
Be seated here.

JUDITH
I shouldn’t, no.
Sede, o cara

HOLOFERNES
Sic jubeo, et volo.

Sede, o cara,
dilecta speciosa
mea vivida rosa,
mea fulgida fax.
Tu Marti triumphanti,
tu bellico amanti
pulcherrima Pax.

JUDITHA
Tu Judex es, tu Dominus, tu potens
in exercitu tanto, et tuæ dextræ victrici
semper aspectu sint astra felici.

HOLOFERNES
Felix per te,
magisque felix ero,
si dum sepulta manet
lux Apollinis unda,
me te dignum
in convivio tu reddas,
ut melius pacis nostræ amatæ, et caræ,
solemnia tecum possim celebrare.

JUDITHA
Inter convivia, et dapes
torpescent labia mea
in jeiunio assueta:
tristis, nec unquam læta
in eduliis astricta
nescia est delitiæ tantæ anima afflicta.

HOLOFERNES
That’s what I command, and wish.

Sit, my dear,
my beloved beautiful
lively rose,
my shimmering flame.
To Mars in his triumph,
to the warring lover
most beautiful peace.

JUDITH
You are judge, commander, and powerful
of such a mighty army, and your victorious right arm
always bless the stars.

HOLOFERNES
I am happy because of you,
and shall be even happier,
if, while buried under the sea
remains Apollo’s light,
you shall do me the honour
of joining me for supper,
so that better our loved and cherished peace
may I solemnly with you celebrate.

JUDITH
During feasts and banquets
my lips become numb
as I am used to fasting:
saddened, never pleased
by food,
my afflicted sould knows not such pleasures.
Agitata infido flatu

JUDITHA
Agitata infido flatu
diu volatu
vagabundo
mæsta hirundo
it plorando
boni ignara.

Sed impulsu auræ serenæ
tantæ cito oblita pœnæ
in dilecta
dulcia tecta
gaudii ridet haud avara.

JUDITH
Tossed around by the treacherous wind
in its long flight,
the wandering
sad swallow
goes weeping,
remembering no good.

But propelled by the force of a fair breeze,
suddenly forgetting such sorrow,
in its delightfully
tender nest
it laughs joyfully, desiring no more.
In tentorio supernæ

HOLOFERNES
In tentorio supernæ
sint in ordine cœnæ.
Quid, quid natat in Ponto,
quid, quid in cælo,
et terra nutrit
ne sit legere grave.
Hinc nostræ Reginæ,
cui Vagæ, tu deservies,
sit cretensis Lyei donum suave.

HOLOFERNES
In my tent let it be
served a superb supper.
Whatever flies in the Pontus,
whatever [is] in the sky,
and [whatever] earth nourishes
shall not be hard to obtain.
Here, to our queen,
whom you, Vagaus, will serve,
be given the sweet gift of the Cretan Lyaeus (Dionysius).
O servi volate

VAGAUS
O servi volate,
et Domino meo
vos mensas parate
si proxima nox.
Invicto Holoferni
cantemus alterni,
honoris, amoris
sit consona nox.

CHORUS
Honoris, amoris,
sit consona vox.

VAGAUS
Tu quoque hebraica ancilla
in nostro gaudio tanto
eris in corde tuo læta, et tranquilla.

ABRA
Quam audacter discurrit
non minus servus suo Domino nequam.
Properemus Juditha: ubique semper
tecum sperans in cælis
ero Dominæ meæ socia fidelis.

VAGAUS
Servants, fly
and for my Lord
prepare supper,
as night fast approaches.
To the undefeated Holofernes
let us sing in alternate verses;
to honours and love-making
may the night be propitious.

CHORUS
To honours and love-making
may our voices be propitious.

VAGAUS
And you as well, Hebrew handmaid,
shall find, amidst our great joy,
gladness of heart, and peace.

MAID
With what audacity speaks
the servant, never to be outdone by his Lord.
Let’s hurry, Judith: everywhere and always,
as you, confident in the heavens
shall I be, a faithful companion to my mistress.
Veni/Venio

JUDITHA
Veni, veni, me sequere fida
Abra amata,
sponso orbata.
Turtur gemo ac spiro in te.
Diræ sortis tu socia confida
debellata
sorte ingrata,
sociam lætæ habebis me.

ABRA
Venio Juditha, venio: animo fave,
amori crede tuo nil erit grave.

Fulgeat sol frontis decoræ,
et afflictæ abeat Auroræ
rosa vaga tua pupilla.
Ama, langue, finge ardere
nostræ sorti si favore
potest una tua favilla.
In Urbe interim pia
incertas audi voces, aura levis
fert murmur voti
et gloriæ, credo, tuæ.
Gemunt et orant una
virgines Juda, incertæ sortis suæ.

JUDITH
Come, come, follow me, my faithful
beloved maid,
deprived of your husband.
Like a turtle-dove I hoot and sigh with you.
In this dire fate you are my trusted companion,
and when we’ll have fulfilled
our ungrateful destiny,
you shall have me also as a joyful companion.

MAID
I come, Judith, I come: have courage,
there shall be no ill consequence to your love.

May the sun shine to deck your face,
and may the sad dew of dawn
disappear from your beautiful eyes.
Love, languish, feign to be burning for him,
if our destiny can be favoured
by a single spark from you.
Meanwhile in our holy city
I hear confused voices, a light breeze
brings murmurs of your vow
and, I believe, of your glory.
As one cry and pray
the maidens of Judah, uncertain of their destiny.
Mundi Rector de cælo micanti

CHORUS (virginum psalentium in Bethulia)
Mundi Rector de cælo micanti
audi preces, et suscipe vota
quæ de corde pro te dimicanti
sunt pietatis in sinu devota.
In Juditha tuæ legi dicata
flammas dulcis tui amoris accende
feritatis sic hostis domata
in Bethuliæ spem pacis intende.
Redi, redi iam Victrix pugnando
in cilicio in prece revive
de Holoferne sic hodie triumphando
pia Juditha per sæcula vive.

CHORUS (of maidens singing psalms in Bethulia)
Ruler of the world and of the sparkling heaven,
hear the prayers and accept the offerings
that to you are offered with devotion
by faithful hearts devoted to you.
In Judith, who is consacrated to your law,
light the fire of your sweet love,
so that, once the savage enemy is tamed,
the hope of peace return to Bethulia.
May she return victorious from battle,
find strength in penitence and prayer
and, defeating Holofernes in triumph today,
may devout Judith forever live.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Tchaikovsky, a cappella choral pieces (Чайковский, хоровые пьесы а капелла)

 

Tchaikovsky, a cappella choral pieces

https://rogersgleanings.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/01/part-116.mp3?_=5 https://rogersgleanings.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/01/part-216.mp3?_=6

 

Posted here are a cappella settings by Tchaikovsky of texts by Pushkin, Lermontov, Tsiganov, Ogarev; the composer, Tchaikovsky; and others.

 

Side 1:

A Golden Cloud Stayed the Night
Words by M. Lermontov

No Cuckoo in the Damp Woods
Words by Aleksey Pleshcheyev

Morning
Words by A. Mashistov

The Nightingale
Words by P. Tchaikovsky

Neither Time nor Season
Words by N. Tsiganov

 

Side 2:

Hymn in Honor of St. Cyril and St. Methodius

Evening
Words by P. Tchaikovsky

Before Sleep Comes
Words by N. Ogarev

Why Has the Merry Voice Grown Silent?
Words by A. Pushkin

 

— posted by Roger W. Smith

   January 2016

Sibelius, “Kullervo”

 

https://rogersgleanings.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/01/1-kullervo-part-1.mp3?_=7 https://rogersgleanings.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/01/2-kullervo-part-2.mp3?_=8 https://rogersgleanings.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/01/3-kullervo-part-3.mp3?_=9 https://rogersgleanings.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/01/4-incidental-music-to-swanwhite-kuolema.mp3?_=10

 

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Kullervo, opus 7, is a suite of symphonic movements with chorus composed by Jean Sibelius. It is based on the character of Kullervo in the Finnish epic Kalevala and uses texts from that work.

Kullervo was first performed in 1892.

Also included here are incidental music from Sibelius’s Kuolema, Op. 44 and Swanwhite, Op. 54.

All the tracks here are from the world permiere recording of Kullervo (1970) by the Bournemouth Symphony Orchestra conducted by Paavo Berglund and the Helsinki University Chorus.

 

— Roger W. Smith

   June 2018

 

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The recording posted here is from a set of two LP records in my collection. The two LP’s (four sides) contain the following selections (all composed by Sibelius):

 

Side 1

“Kullervo” Symphony, Op. 7:

1st movement: Introduction (Allegro Moderato)

2nd movement: Kullervo’s Youth (Grave)

 

Side 2

“Kullervo” Symphony, Op. 7:

3rd movement: Kullervo And His Sister (Allegro Vivace)

 

Side 3

“Kullervo” Symphony, Op. 7:

4th movement: Kullervo Goes to Battle (A La Marcia)

5th movement: Kullervo’s Death (Andante)

 

Side 4

Kuolema, Op. 44 – Scene with Cranes

Swanwhite, Op. 54 – Incidental Music:

2nd movement: The Harp

3rd movement: The Maiden with The Roses

4th movement: Listen, The Robin Sings

6th movement: Swanwhite and The Prince

 

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LIBRETTO

 

‘Kullervo’ – libretto

 

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addendum:

https://rogersgleanings.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/01/13-swanwhite-suite-op-54_-vi-swanwhite-and-the-prince.mp3?_=11

 

I have also posted here a separate track: “Swanwhite and The Prince,” by a separate orchestra. It was one of my favorites.

Schubert, quintet in C major, op. 163

 

Schubert, quintet in C major, op. 163

 

https://rogersgleanings.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/01/part-113.mp3?_=12 https://rogersgleanings.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/01/part-213.mp3?_=13

 

— posted by Roger W. Smith

Schubert, mass No. 6 in E-flat major

 

https://rogersgleanings.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/01/part-1-1.mp3?_=14 https://rogersgleanings.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/01/part-2-1.mp3?_=15

 

Franz Schubert’s Mass No. 6 in E-flat major, D 950, was completed in July 1828, shortly before Schubert’s death on November 19, 1828. Schubert’s brother Ferdinand Schubert conducted the first performance in October 1829.

This performance of the mass was conducted by the late Erich Leinsdorf, music director of the Boston Symphony Orchestra, on an LP that I purchased in my young adulthood, I had never heard the mass before. It is a splendid performance. Leinsdorf conducts with admirable (un-Leonard Bernstein-like) restraint.

Why is this mass not better known? It is one of Schubert’s greatest works and ranks with the great masses of Haydn and Mozart.

It is a quintessentially Schubertian work. As conveyed in this performance, it is a work of great emotional power, yet it is almost “unassuming,” if one can say that about music. It is very straightforward and almost “modest,” in a way; yet incredibly beautiful, moving, and powerful. (The adjective limpid comes to mind.) There is something unique about it with respect to musical settings of the mass, yet it is not intended to impress the listener with the composer’s genius. It’s all about religiosity.

There is something uplifting about the work, an element in almost all of Schubert’s music, despite the fact that his music is anything but superficial and that he plumbs emotional depths — as, for example, in his Quintet in C major, opus 163 (D. 956).

It reminds me in a way of qualities I associate with Schubert’s fifth symphony.

 

— Roger W. Smith

   June 2019

 

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Addendum:

Approximately 3:50 into Part 1 on this recording (the first side of the LP), there is a beautiful Schubertian passage in the long first movement: Kyrie, Andante con moto, quasi Allegretto.

Purcell,” King Arthur, or the British Worthy” (1691)

 

Purcell,”King Arthur, or the British Worthy” (1691)

 

https://rogersgleanings.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/01/part-36.mp3?_=16 https://rogersgleanings.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/01/part-46.mp3?_=17 https://rogersgleanings.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/01/part-111.mp3?_=18 https://rogersgleanings.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/01/part-211.mp3?_=19

 

The libretto to this work is by John Dryden.

 

King Arthur
or
The British Worthy
FIRST ACT

Bass
Woden, first to thee
A milk-white steed, in battle won,
We have sacrific’d.

Chorus
We have sacrific’d.

Tenor
Let our next oblation be
To Thor, thy thund’ring son,
Of such another.

Chorus
We have sacrific’d.

Bass
A third (of Friesland breed was he)
To Woden’s wife, and to Thor’s mother;
And now, we have aton’d all three.

Chorus
We have sacrific’d.

Tenor & Alto
The white horse neigh’d aloud.
To Woden thanks we render,
To Woden we have vow’d.

Chorus
To Woden, our defender, thanks we render?

Soprano
The lot is cast, and Tanfan pleas’d;
Of mortal cares you shall be eas’d.

Chorus
Brave souls, to be renown’d in story,
Honour prizing,
Death despising,
Fame acquiring
By expiring,
Die and reap the fruit of glory.

Alto
I call you all
To Woden’s Hall,
Tour temples round
With ivy bound
In goblets crown’d,
And plenteous bowls of burnish’d gold,
Where ye shall laugh
And dance and quaff
The juice that makes the Britons bold.

Chorus
To Woden’s Hall all
Where in plenteous bowls of burnish’d gold
We shall laugh
And dance and quaff
The juice that makes the Britons bold.

Tenor
“come if you dare”, our trumpets sound.
“Come if you dare”, the foes rebound.
“We come, we come, we come, we come”,
Says the double beat of the thund’ring drum.

Chorus
“Come if you dare”, our trumpets sound?

Tenor
Now they charge on amain,
Now they rally again.
The Gods from above the mad labour behold,
And pity mankind that will perish for gold.

Chorus
Now they charge on amain?

Tenor
The fainting Saxons quit their ground,
Their trumpets languish in their sound,
They fly, they fly, they fly, they fly,
“Victoria”, the bold Britons cry.

Chorus
The fainting Saxons quit their ground?

Tenor
Now the victory’s won,
To the plunder we run,
We return to our lasses like fortunate traders,
Triumphant with spoils of the vainquishe’d invaders.

Chorus
Now the victory’s won?

SECOND ACT

Philidel
Hither, this way, this way bend,
Trust not the malicious fiend.
Those are false deluding lights
Wafted far and near by sprites.
Trust’em not, for they’ll deceive ye,
And in bogs and marshes leave ye.

Chorus of Philidel’s Spirits
Hither, this way, this way bend.

Chorus of Grimbald’s Spirits
This way, hither, this way bend.

Philidel
If you step no longer thinking,
Down you fall, a furlong sinking.
‘Tis a fiend who has annoy’d ye;
Name but Heav’n, and he’ll avoid ye.
Hither, this way.

Chorus of Philidel’s Spirits
Hither, this way, this way bend.

Chorus of Grimbald’s Spirits
This way, hither, this way bend.

Chorus of Philidel’s Spirits
Trust not the malicious fiend.
Hither, this way, this way bend.

Grimbald
Let not a moonborn elf mislead ye
From our prey and from your glory;
To fear, alas, he has betray’d ye;
Follow the flames that wave before ye,
Sometimes sev’n and sometimes one.
Hurry, hurry, hurry on.

See, see the footsteps plan appearing.
That way Oswald chose for flying.
Firm is the turf and fit for bearing,
Where yonder pearly dews are lying.
Far he cannot hence be gone.
Hurry, hurry, hurry on.

Chorus of Philidel’s Spirits
Hither, this way, this way bend.

Chorus of Grimbald’s Spirits
This way, hither, this way bend.

Chorus of Philidel’s Spirits
Trust not the malicious fiend.
Hither, this way, this way bend.

Philidel & 2 Sopranos, Alto, Bass
Come, follow me.

Chorus
Come, follow me?

2 Voices
And green-sward all your way shall be.

Chorus
Come, follow me?
No goblin or elf shall dare to offend ye.

3 Voices
We brethren of air
You heroes will bear,
To the kind and the fair that attend ye.

Chorus
We brethren of air?

One Shepherd
How blest are shepherds, how happy their lasses,
While drums and trumpets are sounding alarms!
Over our lowly sheds all the storm passes,
And when we die ’tis in each other’s arms,
All the day on our herds and flocks employing,
All the night on our flutes and in enjoying.

Chorus
How blest are shepherds, how happy their lasses?

One Shepherd
Bright nymphs of Britain with graces attended,
Let not your days without pleasure expire.
Honour’s but empty, and when youth is ended,
All men will praise you but none will desire.
Let not youth fly away without contenting;
Age will come time enough for your repenting.

Chorus
Bright nymphs of Britain with graces attended?

Two Shepherdesses
Shepherd, shepherd, leave decoying:
Pipes are sweet on summer’s day,
But a little after toying,
Women have the shot to pay.
Here are marriage-vows for signing:
Set their marks that cannot write,
After that, without repining,
Play, and welcome, day and night.

Chorus of Shepherds
Come, Shepherds, lead up a lively measure;
The cares of wedlock are cares of pleasure:
But whether marriage brings joy or sorrow,
Make sure of this day and hang tomorrow.
THIRD ACT

Cupid
What ho! thou genius of this isle, what ho!
Liest thou asleep beneath those hills of snow?
Stretch out thy lazy limbs. Awake, awake!
And winter from thy furry mantle shake.

Cold Genius
What power art thou, who from below
Hast made me rise unwillingly and slow
From beds of everlasting snow?
See’st thou not how stiff and wondrous old
Far unfit to bear the bitter cold,
I can scarcely move or draw my breath?
Let me, let me freeze again to death.

Cupid
Thou doting fool, forbear, forbear!
What dost thou mean by freezing here?
At Love’s appearing,
All the sky clearing,
The stormy winds their fury spare.
Thou doting fool, forbear, forbear!
What dost thou mean by freezing here?
Winter subduing,
And Spring renewing,
My beams create a more glorious year.

Cold Genius
Great Love, I know thee now:
Eldest of the gods art thou.
Heav’n and earth by thee were made.
Human nature is thy creature.
Ev’rywhere thou art obey’d.

Cupid
No part of my dominion shall be waste:
To spread my sway and sing my praise,
E’en here, e’en here I will a people raise
Of kind embracing lovers and embrac’d.

Chorus of Cold People
See, see, we assemble
Thy revels to hold,
Tho’ quiv’ring with cold,
We chatter and tremble.

Cupid
‘Tis I, ’tis I that have warm’d ye.
In spite of cold weather
I’ve brought ye together.

Chorus
‘Tis Love that has warm’d us?

Cupid & Genius
Sound a parley, ye fair, and surrender.
Set yourselves and your lovers at ease.
He’s a grateful offender
Who pleasure dare seize:
But the whining pretender
Is sure to displease.
Sound a parley?
Since the fruit of desire is possessing,
‘Tis unmanly to sigh and complain.
When we kneel for redressing,
We move your disdain.
Love was made for a blessing
And not for a pain.

Chorus
‘Tis Love that has warm’d us?

FOURTH ACT

Two Sirens
Two daughters of this aged stream are we,
And both our sea-green locks have comb’d for ye.
Come, come, bathe with us an hour or two;
Come, come, naked in for we are so,
What danger from a naked foe?
Come, come, bathe with us and share
What pleasures in the floods appear.
We’ll beat the waters till they bound
And circle round.

Tenor
How happy the lover,
How easy his chain!
How sweet to discover
He sighs not in vain.

Chorus
How happy the lover?

Soprano & Bass
For love ev’ry creature
Is form’d by his nature.
No joys are above
The pleasures of love.

Chorus
No joys are above
The pleasures of love.

Three Nymphs
In vain our graces
In vain are your ayes.
If love you despise,
When age furrows faces
‘Tis too late to be wise.

Three Men
The use the sweet blessing
While now in possessing.
No joys are above
The pleasures of love.

Three Women
No joys are above
The pleasures of love.

Chorus
No joys?

FIFTH ACT

AELOS
Ye blust’ring brethren of the skies,
Whose breath has ruffled all the wat’ry plain,
Retire and let Britannia rise
In triumph o’er the main.
Serene and calm and void of fear,
The Queen of Islands must appear.

Nereid & Pan
Round thy coast, fair nymph of Britain,
For thy guard our waters flow.
Proteus all his herd admitting
On thy green to graze below.
Foreign lands thy fish are tasting;
Learn from thee luxurious fasting.

Chorus
Round thy coast, fair nymph of Britain?

Alto, Tenor & Bass
For folded flocks, and fruitful plains,
The shepherd’s and the farmer’s gains,
Fair Britain all the world outvies;
And Pan, as in Arcadia, reigns
Where pleasure mix’d with profit lies.
Tho’ Jason’s fleece was fam’d of old,
The British wool is growing gold;
No mines can more of wealth supply,
It keeps the peasants from the cold,
And takes for kings the Tyrian dye.

Comus
Your hay it is mow’d and your corn is reap’d,
Your barns will be full and your hovels heap’d.
Come, boys, come,
And merrily roar out our harvest home.

Chorus
Come, boys, come,
And merrily roar out our harvest home.

Comus
We’ve cheated the parson, we’ll cheat him again,
For why shou’d a blockhead have one in ten?
One in ten, one in ten?

All
One in ten, one in ten,
For why shou’d a blockhead have one in ten?

Comus
For prating so long, like a book-learn’d sot,
Till pudding and dumpling are burnt to pot;
Burnt to pot, burnt to pot?

All
Burnt to pot, burnt to pot,
Till pudding and dumpling are burnt to pot.

Comus
We’ll toss off our ale till we cannot stand;
And heigh for the honour of old England;
Old England, old England?

All
Old England, old England,
And heigh for the honour of old England.

Venus
Fairest Isle, all isles excelling,
Seat of pleasure and of love,
Venus here will choose her dwelling,
And forsake her Cyprian grove.
Cupid from his fav’rite nation
Care and envy will remove;
Jealousy that poisons passion,
And despair that dies for love.
Gentle murmurs, sweet complaining,
Sighs that blow the fire of love,
Soft repulses, kind disdaining,
Shall be all the pains you prove.
Ev’ry swain shall pay his duty,
Grateful ev’ry nymph shall prove;
And as these excel in beauty,
Those shall be renown’d for love.

She
You say, ’tis Love creates the pain
Of which so sadly you complain,
And yet would fain engage my heart
In that uneasy cruel part;
But how, alas! think you that I
Can bear the wounds of which you die?

He
‘Tis not my passion makes my care
But your indifference gives despair:
The lusty sun begets no spring
Till gentle show’rs assistance bring;
So Love, that scorches and destroys,
Till kindness aids can cause no joys.

She
Love has a thousand ways to please,
But more to rob us of our ease;
For waking nights and careful days,
Some hours of pleasure he repays;
But absence soon, or jealous fears,
O’erflows the joy with floods of tears.

He
But one soft moment makes amends
For all the torment that attends.

She & He
Let us love and to happiness haste.
Age and wisdom come too fast.
Youth for loving was design’d.

She
You be constant, I’ll be kind.

He
I’ll be constant, you be kind.

She & He
Hev’n can give no greater blessing
Than faithful love and kind possessing.

Honour
Saint George the patron of our Isle!
A soldier and a saint!
On this auspicious order smile,
Which love and arms will plant.
Our Sov’reign high in awful state
His honours shall bestow;
And see his sceptred subjects wait
On his commands below.

Chorus
Our natives not alone appear
To court the martial prize;
But foreign kings adopted here
Their crowns at home despise.
Our Sov’reign high in awful state?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Purcell, “The Fairy-Queen” (1692)

 

This enchanting work is a musical setting of Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream.

 

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LIBRETTO

Act I

Come, come, come, let us leave the Town
And in some lonely place,
Where Crouds and Noise were never known,
Resolve to spend our days.
In pleasant Shades upon the Grass
At Night our selves we’ll lay;
Our Days in harmless Sport shall pass,
Thus Time shall slide away.

Drunken Poet:
Fill up the Bowl, then, &c.
1st Fairy, Chorus :
Trip it, trip it in a Ring;
Around this Mortal Dance, and Sing.

Poet:
Enough, enough,
We must play at Blind Man’s Bluff.
Turn me round, and stand away,
I’ll catch whom I may.
1st Fairy, Chorus:
About him go, so, so, so,
Pinch the Wretch, from Top to Toe;
Pinch him forty, forty times,
Pinch till he confess his Crimes.

Poet:
Hold you damn’d tormenting Punk,
I do confess?
Both Fairies:
What, what, &c.

Poet:
I’m Drunk, as I live Boys, Drunk.

Both Fairies:
What art thou, speak?

Poet:
If you will know it,
I am a scurvy Poet.

Chorus:
Pinch him, pinch him for his Crimes,
His Nonsense, and his Dogrel Rhymes.

Poet:
Hold! Oh! Oh! Oh!

Both Fairies:
Confess more, more.

Poet:
I confess, I’m very poor.
Nay prithee do not pinch me so,
Good dear Devil, let me go;
And as I hope to wear the Bays,
I’ll write a Sonnet in thy Praise.

Chorus:
Drive ’em hence, away, away
Let ’em sleep till break of Day.

 

Act II

Come all ye Songsters of the Sky,
Wake, and Assemble in this Wood;
But no ill-boding Bird be nigh,
None but the Harmless and the Good.

Trio:
May the God of Wit inspire,
The Sacred Nine to bear a part;
And the Blessed Heavenly Quire,
Shew the utmost of their Art.
While Echo shall in sounds remote,
Repeat each Note,
Each Note, each Note.

Chorus:
Now joyn your Warbling Voices all.
Song and Chorus:
Sing while we trip it on the Green;
But no ill Vapours rise or fall,
Nothing offend our Fairy Queen.

Night:
See, even Night her self is here,
To favour your Design;
And all her Peaceful Train is near,
That Men to Sleep incline.
Let Noise and Care,
Doubt and Despair,
Envy and Spight,
(The Fiends delight)
Be ever Banish’d hence,
Let soft Repose,
Her Eye-lids close;
And murmuring Streams,
Bring pleasing Dreams;
Let nothing stay to give offence.

Mystery:
I am come to lock all fast,
Love without me cannot last.
Love, like Counsels of the Wise,
Must be hid from Vulgar Eyes.
‘Tis holy, and we must conceal it,
They profane it, who reveal it.

Secresie:
One charming Night
Gives more delight,
Than a hundred lucky Days.
Night and I improve the tast,
Make the pleasure longer last,
A thousand, thousand several ways.

Sleep:
Hush, no more, be silent all,
Sweet Repose has clos’d her Eyes.
Soft as feather’d Snow does fall!
Softly, softly, steal from hence.
No noise disturb her sleeping sence.

 

Act III

If Love’s a Sweet Passion, why does it torment?
If a Bitter, oh tell me whence comes my content?
Since I suffer with pleasure, why should I complain,
Or grieve at my Fate, when I know ’tis in vain?
Yet so pleasing the Pain, so soft is the Dart,
That at once it both wounds me, and tickles my Heart.
I press her Hand gently, look Languishing down,
And by Passionate Silence I make my Love known.
But oh! I’m Blest when so kind she does prove,
By some willing mistake to discover her Love.
When in striving to hide, she reveals all her Flame,
And our Eyes tell each other, what neither dares Name.
Ye Gentle Spirits of the Air, appear;
Prepare, and joyn your tender Voices here.
Cath, and repeat the Trembling Sounds anew,
Soft as her Sighs and sweet as pearly dew,
Run new Division, and such Measures keep,
As when you lull the God of Love asleep.

Coridon:
Now the Maids and the Men are making of Hay,
We h’ve left the dull Fools, and are stolen away.
Then Mopsa no more
Be Coy as before,
But let us merrily Play,
And kiss the sweet time away.

Mopsa:
Why, how now, Sir Clown, what makes you so bold?
I’d have ye to know I’m not made of that mold.
I tell you again,
Maids must never Kiss no Men.
No, no: no Kissing at all;
I’ll not Kiss, till I Kiss you for good and all.

Coridon:
Not Kiss you at all?

Mopsa:
No, no, no Kissing at all!

Coridon:
Why no Kissing at all?

Mopsa:
I’ll not Kiss, till I Kiss you for good and all.

Coridon:
Should you give me a score,
‘Twould not lessen your store,
The bid me chearfully, chearfully Kiss,
And take, and take, my fill of your Bliss.

Mopsa:
I’ll not trust you so far, I know you too well;
Should I give you aninch, you’d soon take an Ell.
The Lordlike you Rule,
And laugh as the Fool,
No, no, &c.

Coridon:
So small a Request,
You must not, you cannot, you shall not deny,
Not will I admit of another Reply.

Mopsa:
Nay, what do you mean?
O fie, fie, fie!

A Nymph:
When I have often heard young Maids complaining,
That when Men promise most they most deceive,
The I thought none of them worthy of my gaining;
And what they Swore, resolv’d ne’re to believe.
But when so humbly he made his Addresses,
With Looks so soft, and with Language so kind,
I thought it Sin to refuse his Caresses;
Nature o’ercame, and I soon chang’d my Mind.
Should he employ all his wit in deceiving,
Stretch his Invetion, and artfully feign;
I find such Charms, such true Joy in believing,
I’ll have the Pleasure, let him have the Pain.
If he proves Prejur’d, I shall not be Cheated,
He may deceive himself, but never me;
‘Tis what I look for, and shan’t be defeated,
For I’ll be as false and inconstant as he.

A Thousand Thousand ways we’ll find
To Entertain the Hours;
No Two shall e’re be known so kind,
No Life so Blest as ours.

 

Act IV

One of the Attendants:
Now the Night is chac’d away,
All salute the rising Sun;
‘Tis that happy, happy Day,
The Birth-Day of King Oberon.

Two Others:
Let the Fifes, and the Clarions, and shrill Trumpets sound,
And the Arch of high Heav’n the Clangor resound.

Phoebus:
When a Cruel long Winter has frozen the Earth,
And Nature Imprison’d seeks in vain to be free;
I dart forth my Beams, to give all things a Birth,
Making Spring for the Plants, every Flower, and each Tree.
‘Tis I who give Life, Warmth, and Vigour to all,
Even Love who rules all things in Earth, Air, and Sea;
Would languish, and fade, and to nothing would fall,
The World to its Chaos would return, but for me.
Hail! Great Parent of us all,
Light and Comfort of the Earth;
Before your Shrine the Seasons fall,
Thou who givest all Nature Birth.

Spring:
Thus the ever Grateful Spring,
Does her yearly Tribute bring;
All your Sweets before him lay,
The round his Altar, Sing and Play.

Summer:
Here’s the Summer, Sprightly, Gay,
Smiling, Wanton, Fresh and Fair;
Adorn’d with all the Flowers of May,
Whose various Sweets perfume the Air.

Autumn:
See my many Colour’d Fields
And loaded Trees my Will obey;
All the Fruit that Autumn yields,
I offer to the God od Day.

Winter:
Now Winter comes Slowly, Pale, Meager, and Old,
First trembling with Age, and then quiv’ring with Cold;
Benumb’d with hard Forsts, and with Snow covere’d o’ver,
Prays the Sun to Restore him, and Sings as before.

 

Act V

Juno:
Thrice happy Lovers, may you be
For ever, ever free,
From that tormenting Devil, Jealousie.
From all that anxious Care and Strife,
That attends a married Life;
Be to one another true,
Kind to her as she to you,
And since the errors of this Night are past,
May he be ever Constant, she for ever Chast.
O let me weep, for ever weep,
My Eyes no more shall welcome Sleep;
I’ll hide me from the sight of Day,
And sigh, and sigh my Soul away.
He’s gone, he’s gone, his loss deplore;
And I shall never see him more.

A Chinese Man:
Thus the gloomy World
At first began to shine,
And from the Power Divine
A Glory round about it hurl’d;
Which made it bright,
And gave it Birth in light.
Then were all Minds as pure,
As those Ethereal Streams;
In Innocence secure,
Not Subject to Extreams.
There was no Room then for empty Fame,
No cause for Pride, Ambition wanted aim.

Chinese Woman:
Thus Happy and Free,
Thus treated are we
With nature’s chiefest Delights.
We nover cloy,
But renew our Joy,
And one Bliss another Invites.

Chorus:
Thus wildly we live,
Thus freely we give,
What Heaven as freely bestows.
We were not made
For Labour and Trade,
Which Fools on each other impose.

Chinese Man:
Yes, Daphne, in your Looks I find
The Charms by which my Heart’s betray’d;
Then let not your Disdain unbind
The Prisoner that your Eyes have made.
She that in Love makes least Defence,
Wounds ever with the surest Dart;
Beauty may captivate the Sense,
But Kindness only gains the Heart.

1st Woman:
Har how all things with one Sound rejoyce,
And the World seems to have one voice.
2nd> Woman:
Hark now the Echoing Air a Triumph Sings,
And all around pleas’d Cupids clap their Wings.

Chorus:
Hark! Hark!

2nd Woman:
Sure the dull God of Marriage does not hear;
Both:
We’ll rouse him with a Charm, Hymen appear!

Chorus:
Hymen appear!

Both:
Our Queen of Night commands thee not to stay, Appear!

Hymen:
See, see, I obey.
My torch has long been out, I hate
On loose dissembled Vows to wait,
Where hardly Love out-lives the Wedding-Night,
False Flames, Love’s Meteors, yield my Torch no Light.

Both Women:
Turn then thine Eyes upon those Glories there,
And catching Flames will on thy Torch appear.

Hymen:
My Torch, indeed, will from such Brightness shine:
Love ne’er had yet such Altars, so divine.

They shall be as happy as they’re fair;
Love shall fill all the Places of Care:
And every time the Sun shall display his Rising Light,
It shall be to them a new Wedding-Day;
And when he sets, a new Nuptial-Night.

Purcell, harpsichord suites

 

 

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I somehow managed to find this now rare recording of Henry Purcell’s charming, indeed enchanting, harpsichord suites — I have listened to them often — on an LP which I purchased in the 1970s. The recording is by Isabelle Nef.

Isabelle Nef (1895-1976) was a Swiss pianist and harpsichordist.

 

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“Purcell’s keyboard works may occupy a relatively minor niche in his glorious oeuvre, but they are still touched by genius. These harpsichord pieces are models of charm and sophistication, their melodic invention a constant source of delight. Many of Purcell’s harpsichord compositions first appeared in The Choice Collection of Lessons for Harpsichord or Spinnet, which was published in 1696, just one year after his death. … The suites are very influenced by the elegant French style that was fashionable in Restoration London, with elaborate ornamentation, especially in the delicate Almands. …”

— Graham Lock

Classical-Music.com; The official website of BBC Music Magazine

http://www.classical-music.com/review/purcell-1

 

*****************************************************

 

SIDE 1

No. 1 In G Major

Prelude-Almand-Corant-Minuet

No. 2 In G Minor

Prelude-Almand-Corant-Saraband

No. 3 In G Major

Prelude-Almand-Courante

No. 4 In A Minor

Prelude-Almand-Corante-Saraband

 

SIDE 2

No. 5 In C Major

Prelude-Almand-Corant

No. 6 In D Major

Prelude-Almand-Hornpipe

No. 7 In D Minor

Almand-Corant-Hornpipe

No. 8 In F Major

Prelude-Almand-Courante-Minuet

 

— posted by Roger W. Smith

   March 2019

Mozart, Mass in F minor, K. 192; Dixit and Magnificat, K. 193

 

Mozart, Mass in F minor, K. 192; Dixit and Magnificat, K. 193

 

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— posted by Roger W. Smith

   January 2016

Irving Fine, Symphony (1962)

 

Irving Fine, Symphony (1962)

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Irving Fine (1914-1962) was my father’s professor for a course in musical composition at Harvard College.

Fine’s Symphony (1962) may be his best work. I find it compelling on repeated listenings. It is not what one would call lush music, but it is totally engaging.

Charles Munch conducted the premier performance by the Boston Symphony Orchetra on March 23, 1962. A second performance of the work by the BSO was given at Tanglewood less than two weeks before Fine’s death in his forties from a heart attack. Fine conducted.

Fine was a member of a mid-twentieth century group of Boston composers who were sometimes called the “Boston Six” or “Boston School.” Other members of the Boston School included Arthur Berger, Leonard Bernstein, Aaron Copland, Lukas Foss, and Harold Shapero.

There are some interesting connections here, from a personal point of view. Besides my father’s having studied under Fine, four composers of the Boston Six — Berger, Bernstein, Fine, and Shapero — all taught at one time or another at Brandeis University, where I was a student in the 1960’s. I had a part time job in the Music Department and used to observe a couple of these professors come and go, but never studied under them.

Besides studying under Fine, my father knew Berger in passing from his Harvard days, when both were students there.

 

— Roger W. Smith

    January 2016

 

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Addendum

An acquaintance of mine made the following comment in an email to me:

I sense a lot of Copland influence in this music, maybe Gershwin too — and possibly Bernstein, although maybe Bernstein was influenced by these guys (and Fine as well).  But more than anything else the first movement sounds like a plagiarized American in Paris.

This writer (the respondent)   is badly misinformed.  Perhaps   they did not listen carefully.  There is no hint of Gershwin or An  American in Paris. This is a serious (not jaunty) piece; and there is no influence of Gershwin whatsoever, or of jazz.  It is particularly disheartening that the respondent uses the word “plagiarized.”

One review of the first performance of Fine’s Symphony — it was a lukewarm review — mentions   some traces — or influence — of Stravinsky and Hindemith.