Tag Archives: John Dryden

Handel, “Alexander’s Feast” (Handel, the composer)

 

 

“Great composer for his time and parts of the oratorios are moving (to me), but overall doesn’t impress me.”

email re Handel from an acquaintance with informed opinions about and an abiding interest in and knowledge of music

 

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Posted here above (two acts) is George Frideric Handel’s Alexander’s Feast (1736). It is described as “an ode with music.” The title page of the original score read:

ALEXANDER’S FEAST

OR THE

Power of Musick.

An Ode.

Wrote in Honour of S. Cecilia

By Mr. DRYDEN.

Set to Musick by

Mr. Handel.

The libretto was by Newburgh Hamilton, who was also the librettist for Handel’s great oratorio Samson.

This recording is from a marvelous performance by the Deller Consort.

 

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See my posts on Handel’s Samson at

Handel, “Samson” (1743)

Handel’s “Samson”

 

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Hamilton adapted the is libretto from John Dryden’s ode Alexander’s Feast, or the Power of Music (1697), which had been written to celebrate Saint Cecilia’s Day.

Why do so many people seem to know Handel only from a few works, such as Messiah and the Water Music? I have listened to works such as Alexander’s Feast with pleasure, indeed delight, over and over again. The same for the following Handel works that I can’t hear enough (in no particular order): Samson, Sosarme; Serse; Semele (which I heard performed live last year, inducing me to listen to it many times afterwards, and appreciate it anew); Israel in Egypt; Hercules; Orlando; Judas Maccabeus; L’Allegro, il Penseroso ed il Moderato; Esther; Acis and Galatea; the Anthem for the Foundling Hospital; and the Ode for the Birthday of Queen Anne.

Handel wrote some of the best arias ever. Listen, for example, to track 16, “Softly, sweet, in Lydian Measures,” from Act One. And track 11 from the same act: “He chose a mournful muse.”

Track 12 from Act One, “He sung Darius, great and good.” The plaintive strings beautifully framing a soprano voice. Such pathos.

Or track 6, “The List’ning Crowd,” from Act One, where Handel — as he so often does — ravishes the listener with a feeling of rapture. And with a chorus such as “Bacchus’ blessings are a treasure, / Drinking is the soldier’s pleasure” (track 9 from Act One), we see how Handel can write music that is at once magnificent and that reflects human experience and feelings.

Why isn’t this music — the oratorios and a whole lot more — more often heard and better known? Not just by Handelians..

 

— posted by Roger W. Smith

   September 2019

 

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libretto

 

ALEXANDER’S FEAST

(1736)

An Ode

Words by Newburgh Hamilton

 

PART ONE

1. Overture

2. Recitative
Tenor

‘Twas at the royal feast, for Persia won
By Philip’s warlike son:
Aloft in awful state
The god-like hero sate
On his imperial throne:
His valiant peers were plac’d around;
Their brows with roses and with myrtles bound.
So should desert in arms be crown’d.
The lovely Thais by his side
Sate like a blooming Eastern bride,
In flow’r of youth, and beauty’s pride.

3. Air (tenor) and Chorus

Happy, happy, happy pair!
None but the brave,
None but the brave,
None but the brave deserves the fair.

4. Recitative

Tenor

Timotheus plac’d on high,
Amid the tuneful quire,
With flying fingers touch’d the lyre.
The trembling notes ascend the sky,
And heav’nly joys inspire.

5. Accompagnato

Soprano

The song began from Jove,
Who left his blissful seats above;
(Such is the pow’r of mighty love)
A dragon’s fiery form bely’d the God;
Sublime, on radiant spires he rode,
When he to fair Olympia press’d,
And while he sought her snowy breast:
Then, round her slender waist he curl’d,
And stamp’d an image of himself, a sov’reign of the world.

6. Chorus

The list’ning crowd admire the lofty sound,
“A present deity!” they shout around;
“A present deity!” the vaulted roofs rebound.

7. Air

Soprano

With ravish’d ears
The monarch hears,
Assumes the God,
Affects to nod,
And seems to shake the spheres.

8. Recitative

Tenor

The praise of Bacchus, then, the sweet musician sung;
Of Bacchus, ever fair, and ever young:
The jolly God in triumph comes;
Sound the trumpets, beat the drums:
Flush’d with a purple grace,
He shows his honest face;
Now give the hautboys breath; he comes, he comes!

9. Air and Chorus

Bass

Bacchus, ever fair and young,
Drinking joys did first ordain;
Bacchus’ blessings are a treasure,
Drinking is the soldier’s pleasure:
Rich the treasure,
Sweet the pleasure,
Sweet is pleasure after pain.

Chorus

Bacchus’ blessings are a treasure,
Drinking is the soldier’s pleasure:
Rich the treasure,
Sweet the pleasure,
Sweet is pleasure after pain.

10. Recitative

Tenor

Sooth’d with the sound, the king grew vain;
Fought all his battles o’er again;
And thrice he routed all his foes, and thrice he slew the slain!
The master saw the madness rise,
His glowing cheeks, his ardent eyes;
And while he Heav’n and earth defy’d,
Chang’d his hand, and check’d his pride.

11. Accompagnato

Soprano

He chose a mournful muse,
Soft pity to infuse.

12. Air

Soprano

He sung Darius great and good,
By too severe a fate,
Fall’n from his high estate,
And welt’ring in his blood:
Deserted at his utmost need,
By those his former bounty fed,
On the bare earth expos’d he lies,
Without a friend to close his eyes.

13. Accompagnato

Soprano

With downcast looks the joyless victor sate,
Revolving in his alter’d soul,
The various turns of chance below,
And, now and then, a sigh he stole,
And tears began to flow.

14. Chorus

Behold Darius, great and good,
Fall’n, fall’n, fall’n, fall’n, welt’ring in his blood;
On the bare earth expos’d he lies,
Without a friend to close his eyes.

15. Recitative

Tenor

The mighty master smil’d to see
That love was in the next degree;
‘Twas but a kindred sound to move,
For pity melts the mind to love:

16. Arioso

Soprano

Softly sweet, in Lydian measures,
Soon he sooth’d his soul to pleasures.

17. Air

Soprano

War, he sung, is toil and trouble,
Honour but an empty bubble,
Never ending, still beginning,
Fighting still, and still destroying;
If the world be worth thy winning,
Think, oh think it worth enjoying,
Lovely Thais sits beside thee,
Take the good the Gods provide thee.
War he sung. . . da capo

18a. Chorus

The many rend the skies, with loud applause;
So love was crown’d, but music won the cause.

18b. Chorus

The many rend the skies, with loud applause;
So love was crown’d, but music won the cause.

19. Air

Soprano

The Prince, unable to conceal his pain,
Gaz’d on the fair,
Who caus’d his care;
And sigh’d and look’d, sigh’d and look’d,
Sigh’d and look’d, and sigh’d again:
At length with love and wine at once oppress’d,
The vanquish’d victor sunk upon her breast.
The Prince. . . da capo


PART TWO

20. Accompagnato and Chorus

Tenor

Now strike the golden lyre again,
A louder yet — and yet a louder strain!
Break his bands of sleep asunder,
And rouse him, like a rattling peal of thunder.
Hark, hark! — the horrid sound
Has rais’d up his head,
As awak’d from the dead,
And amaz’d, he stares around.

Chorus

Break his bands of sleep asunder,
And rouse him, like a rattling peal of thunder.

21. Air

Bass

Revenge, revenge, Timotheus cries,
See the furies arise,
See the snakes that they rear,
How they hiss in their hair,
And the sparkles that flash from their eyes!
Behold a ghastly band,
Each a torch in his hand!
Those are Grecian ghosts, that in battle were slain,
And unbury’d, remain
Inglorious on the plain.
Revenge. . . da capo

22. Accompagnato

Tenor

Give the vengeance due
To the valiant crew:
Behold how they toss their torches on high,
How they point to the Persian abodes,
And glitt’ring temples of their hostile gods!

23. Air

Tenor

The princes applaud with a furious joy;
And the king seiz’d a flambeau, with zeal to destroy.

24. Air and Chorus
Soprano

Thais led the way,
To light him to his prey;
And like another Helen, fir’d another Troy.
The princes applaud with a furious joy;
And the king seiz’d a flambeau, with zeal to destroy.

Chorus

The princes applaud with a furious joy;
And the king seiz’d a flambeau, with zeal to destroy.

25. Accompagnato and Chorus

Tenor

Thus long ago,
Ere heaving bellows learn’d to blow,
While organs yet were mute,
Timotheus to his breathing flute,
And sounding lyre,
Could swell the soul to rage, or kindle soft desire.
Chorus

At last divine Cecilia came,
Inventress of the vocal frame;
The sweet enthusiasts from her sacred store,
Enlarg’d the former narrow bounds,
And added length to solemn sounds,
With Nature’s mother-wit, and arts unknown before.

26. Recitative

Tenor

Let old Timotheus yield the prize,

Bass

Or both divide the crown;
He rais’d a mortal to the skies,

Tenor
She drew an angel down.

27. Soli and Chorus

Let old Timotheus yield the prize,
Or both divide the crown;
He rais’d a mortal to the skies,
She drew an angel down.

[Additional Chorus]

Your voices tune, and raise them high,
Till th’echo from the vaulted sky
The blest Cecilia’s name;
Music to Heav’n and her we owe,
The greatest blessing that’s below;
Sound loudly then her fame:
Let’s imitate her notes above,
And may this evening ever prove,
Sacred to harmony and love.

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

 

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

 

 

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?