Autore: Claudio Capriolo

When my love swears

Oscar van Hemel (1892 - 1981): Four Shakespeare sonnets for mixed choir (1961). Vocaal Ensemble PANiek.

1. Music to hear (Sonnet 8)

   Music to hear, why hear’st thou music sadly?
   Sweets with sweets war not, joy delights in joy.
   Why lovest thou that which thou receivest not gladly,
   Or else receivest with pleasure thine annoy?
   If the true concord of well-tunèd sounds,
   By unions married, do offend thine ear,
   They do but sweetly chide thee, who confounds
   In singleness the parts that thou shouldst bear.
   Mark how one string, sweet husband to another,
   Strikes each in each by mutual ordering,
   Resembling sire and child and happy mother,
   Who, all in one, one pleasing note do sing.
    Whose speechless song, being many, seeming one,
    Sings this to thee: «Thou single wilt prove none».

2. No longer mourn (Sonnet 71) [1:32]

   No longer mourn for me when I am dead
   Than you shall hear the surly sullen bell
   Give warning to the world that I am fled
   From this vile world with vilest worms to dwell;
   Nay, if you read this line, remember not
   The hand that writ it; for I love you so,
   That I in your sweet thoughts would be forgot,
   If thinking on me then should make you woe.
   O, if (I say) you look upon this verse,
   When I (perhaps) compounded am with clay,
   Do not so much as my poor name rehearse,
   But let your love even with my life decay,
    Lest the wise world should look into your moan,
    And mock you with me after I am gone.

3. The little love-god (Sonnet 154) [3:34]

   The little Love-god lying once asleep,
   Laid by his side his heart-inflaming brand,
   Whilst many nymphs that vowed chaste life to keep
   Came tripping by; but in her maiden hand
   The fairest votary took up that fire
   Which many legions of true hearts had warmed;
   And so the General of hot desire
   Was, sleeping, by a virgin hand disarmed.
   This brand she quenched in a cool well by,
   Which from Love’s fire took heat perpetual,
   Growing a bath and healthful remedy,
   For men diseased; but I, my mistress’ thrall,
    Came there for cure and this by that I prove,
    Love’s fire heats water, water cools not love.

4. When my love swears (Sonnet 138) [5:09]

   When my love swears that she is made of truth,
   I do believe her, though I know she lies,
   That she might think me some untutored youth,
   Unlearnèd in the world’s false subtleties.
   Thus vainly thinking that she thinks me young,
   Although she knows my days are past the best,
   Simply I credit her false-speaking tongue:
   On both sides thus is simple truth suppressed.
   But wherefore says she not she is unjust?
   And wherefore say not I that I am old?
   Oh, love’s best habit is in seeming trust,
   And age in love loves not to have years told.
    Therefore I lie with her and she with me,
    And in our faults by lies we flattered be.