Heinrich Ignaz Franz von Biber (12 agosto 1644 - 1704): Missa salisburgensis a 53 voci (1682). Musica Antiqua Köln, dir. Reinhard Goebel; Gabrieli Consort & Players, dir. Paul McCreesh.
- Kyrie
- Gloria
- Credo
- Sanctus – Benedictus
- Agnus Dei

Heinrich Ignaz Franz von Biber (12 agosto 1644 - 1704): Missa salisburgensis a 53 voci (1682). Musica Antiqua Köln, dir. Reinhard Goebel; Gabrieli Consort & Players, dir. Paul McCreesh.

Francis Pilkington (c1565 - 1638): Rest, sweet nymphs, ayre (dal First Book of Songs or Airs of Four Parts, 1605, n. 6).
– versione per 1 voce e liuto: Valeria Mignaco (soprano) e Alfonso Marin;
– versione a 4 voci a cappella: Laudantes Consort.
Rest, sweet nymphs, let golden sleep
Charm your star brighter eyes,
While my lute the watch doth keep
With pleasing sympathies.
Lulla, lullaby. Lulla, lullaby.
Sleep sweetly, sleep sweetly,
Let nothing affright ye,
In calm contentments lie.
Dream, fair virgins, of delight
And blest Elysian groves,
While the wandring shades of night
Resemble your true loves.
Lulla, lullaby. Lulla, lullaby.
Your kisses, your blisses,
Send them by your wishes,
Although they be not nigh.
Thus, dear damsels, I do give
‘Good night’, and so am gone:
With your hearts’ desires long live,
Still joy, and never moan.
Lulla, lullaby. Lulla, lullaby.
Hath pleased you and eased you,
And sweet slumber seized you,
And now to bed I hie.

Domenico Zanatta (c1665 - 5 agosto 1748): Gelosia, cantata per voce e basso continuo (da Intrecci armonici diversi… opera quarta, 1696). Flavio Ferri-Benedetti, controtenore; ensemble Musica Fiorita, dir. Daniela Dolci.
Dimmi, amor, qual pena sia
più maggior di gelosia
ad un cor ch’ama fedel.
Ella sparge dentro al seno
il più perfido veleno
e l’ardore più crudel.
Oh, Dio, quanto tiranna è la tua legge,
o faretrato arcero,
ingiusto è il tuo comando
se a chi vive adorando
decreti che sia il fin de’ suoi contenti
d’un geloso pensier gl’aspri tormenti.
Deh, lasciami in pace,
tiranna de’ cori,
crudel gelosia.
Quest’alma si sface
tra i rigidi ardori
di tua tirannia.
Il mio servir costante,
l’esser fedel amante
fomenta maggior fiamme al seno mio
s’ancor il mio desio
mascherando di gioia i suoi martiri
scuote a rigor di pene anco i sospiri.
Oh, Dio, che acerba pena
è il viver in catena
e aver geloso il cor.
Egl’è un sì fier martire
che l’alma fa languire
in grembo del dolor.

John Dowland (1563 - 1626): Come again, ayre* (dal First Booke of Songes or Ayres of fowre partes with Tableture for the Lute, 1597, n. 17). Paul Agnew, tenore; Christopher Wilson, liuto.
Come again! sweet love doth now invite
Thy graces that refrain
To do me due delight,
To see, to hear, to touch, to kiss, to die,
With thee again in sweetest sympathy.
Come again! that I may cease to mourn
Through thy unkind disdain;
For now left and forlorn
I sit, I sigh, I weep, I faint, I die
In deadly pain and endless misery.
All the day the sun that lends me shine
By frowns do cause me pine
And feeds me with delay;
Her smiles, my springs that makes my joys to grow,
Her frowns the Winters of my woe.
All the night my sleeps are full of dreams,
My eyes are full of streams.
My heart takes no delight
To see the fruits and joys that some do find
And mark the storms are me assign’d.
Out alas, my faith is ever true,
Yet will she never rue
Nor yield me any grace;
Her eyes of fire, her heart of flint is made,
Whom tears nor truth may once invade.
Gentle Love, draw forth thy wounding dart,
Thou canst not pierce her heart;
For I, that do approve
By sighs and tears more hot than are thy shafts
Did tempt while she for triumph laughs.
(*) Per ayre si intende un genere musicale fiorito in Inghilterra tra la fine del Cinquecento e la terza decade del secolo successivo. L’ayre è un brano a più voci (solitamente quattro) con accompagnamento di liuto; ciò che lo distingue dalle composizioni congeneri del periodo precedente è il fatto che alla voce più acuta è affidata una parte spiccatamente melodica, sul modello della «monodia accompagnata» italiana e dell’air de cour francese. Gli interpreti hanno dunque la possibilità di eseguire un ayre o secondo tradizione, con tutte le parti vocali e con l’accompagnamento del liuto ad libitum, oppure seguendo la moda dell’epoca, cioè con il canto della sola parte più acuta sostenuto dal liuto. In quest’ultimo caso, al liuto spesso si aggiunge una viola da gamba che ha il compito di irrobustire la linea del basso.

Orlando di Lasso (1530/32 - 1594): Matona mia cara, villanella a 4 voci (dal Libro de Villanelle, Moresche, et altre Canzoni, 1581, n. 12). The Hilliard Ensemble, dir. Paul Hillier.
Matona mia cara, mi follere canzon
cantar sotto finestra, lantze bon compagnon.
Don don don diri diri don don don don.
Ti prego m’ascoltare che mi cantar de bon
e mi ti foller bene come greco e capon.
Com’andar alle cazze, cazzar con le falcon,
mi ti portar beccazze, grasse come rognon.
Se mi non saper dire tante belle rason,
Petrarca mi non saper, ne fonte d’Helicon.
Se ti mi foller bene mi non esser poltron;
mi ficcar tutta notte, urtar come monton.

Lady Greensleeves & Mistress Ford
Anonymous (second half of the sixteenth century, British): Greensleeves. Alfred Deller, countertenor; Desmond Dupre, lute.
Deller’s interpretation gives us the opportunity to hear both the oldest known version of Greensleeves tune and some stanzas taken from the first known edition of the lyrics, a 1584 collection entitled A Handful of Pleasant Delites. Here is the full text (italicized stanzas are omitted by Deller):
Alas, my love, you do me wrong
To cast me off discourteously,
For I have loved you well and long,
Delighting in your company.
Greensleeves was all my joy,
Greensleeves was my delight,
Greensleeves was my heart of gold,
And who but my lady Greensleeves.
I have been ready at your hand,
To grant whatever you would crave;
I have both waged life and land,
Your love and good-will for to have.
I bought three kerchers to thy head,
That were wrought fine and gallantly;
I kept them both at board and bed,
Which cost my purse well-favour’dly.
I bought thee petticoats of the best,
The cloth so fine as fine might be:
I gave thee jewels for thy chest;
And all this cost I spent on thee.
Thy smock of silk both fair and white,
With gold embroidered gorgeously;
Thy petticoat of sendall right;
And this I bought thee gladly.
Thy girdle of gold so red,
With pearls bedecked sumptously,
The like no other lasses had;
And yet you do not love me!
Thy purse, and eke thy gay gilt knives,
Thy pin-case, gallant to the eye;
No better wore the burgess’ wives;
And yet thou wouldst not love me!
Thy gown was of the grassy green,
The sleeves of satin hanging by;
Which made thee be our harvest queen;
And yet thou wouldst not love me!
Thy garters fringed with the gold,
And silver aglets hanging by;
Which made thee blithe for to behold;
And yet thou wouldst not love me!
My gayest gelding thee I gave,
To ride wherever liked thee;
No lady ever was so brave;
And yet thou wouldst not love me!
My men were clothed all in green,
And they did ever wait on thee;
All this was gallant to be seen;
And yet thou wouldst not love me!
They set thee up, they took thee down,
They served thee with humility;
Thy foot might not once touch the ground;
And yet thou wouldst not love me!
For every morning, when thou rose,
I sent thee dainties, orderly,
To cheer thy stomach from all woes;
And yet thou wouldst not love me!
Thou couldst desire no earthly thing,
But still thou hadst it readily,
Thy music still to play and sing;
And yet thou wouldst not love me!
And who did pay for all this gear,
That thou didst spend when pleased thee?
Even I that am rejected here,
And thou disdainst to love me!
Well! I will pray to God on high,
That thou my constancy mayst see,
And that, yet once before I die,
Thou wilt vouchsafe to love me!
Greensleeves, now farewell! Adieu!
God I pray to prosper thee!
For I am still thy lover true;
Come once again and love me!
From a reprint, dated 1878, of A Handful of Pleasant Delites
Greensleeves cannot be missing from an anthology of Shakespearean music: the ballad of the beautiful green-sleeved lady is in fact mentioned twice in the comedy The Merry Wives of Windsor (first published in 1602, though believed to have been written in or before 1597). Its plot is well known: the pot-bellied and cash-strapped knight John Falstaff awkwardly tries to seduce two ladies, Mistress Ford and Mistress Page, married to wealthy merchants living in Windsor (in Berkshire); by gaining their favour, Sir John hopes to fix his financial woe, but is quickly unmasked: the wives find he sent them identical love letters and take revenge by playing tricks on Falstaff.
When the hoax comes to light, Mistress Ford comments on the fact with these words (act 2, scene 1):
I shall think the worse of fat men, as long as I have an eye to make difference of men’s liking: and yet he would not swear; praised women’s modesty; and gave such orderly and well-behaved reproof to all uncomeliness, that I would have sworn his disposition would have gone to the truth of his words; but they do no more adhere and keep place together than the Hundredth Psalm to the tune of Green Sleeves.
It’s true: Psalm 100 does not adhere to Greensleeves; but it must be said that this is a purely metrical matter — the verses of the psalm («O be joyful in the Lord, all ye lands» according to the Great Bible, 1539) do not fit at all to the tune of the ballad — and not a sort of moral prohibition. Adapting a sacred text to a familiar secular melody (this is called contrafactum) has never been a problem, and we have already seen (click here) that Greensleeves itself has given its tune to a religious chant.
The last prank against Falstaff takes place in the forest of Windsor, where he is invited to go, dressed as a hunter, for a love rendezvous (act 5, scene 5). «Sir John!» says Mistress Ford, «Art thou there, my deer? my male deer?»; Falstaff replies by stating that «a tempest of provocation» will not be able to distract him from her, even if the sky thunders «to the tune of Green Sleeves»:
My doe with the black scut! Let the sky rain potatoes; let it thunder to the tune of Green Sleeves, hail kissing-comfits and snow eringoes; let there come a tempest of provocation, I will shelter me here.
(A few brief explanations:
– potatoes: when the potato was introduced to Europe, precisely at the time of Shakespeare, it was considered an aphrodisiac;
– kissing-comfits: perfumed sugar sweets, used to freshen the breath;
– eringoes: does not refer to the herbaceous plants of this name, but to the pleurotus eryngii, called king trumpet or king oyster mushroom, considered an aphrodisiac since ancient times.)

Lady Greensleeves & Mistress Ford
Anonimo inglese della seconda metà del Cinquecento: Greensleeves. Alfred Deller, controtenore; Desmond Dupré, liuto.
L’interpretazione di Deller e Dupré ci dà modo di ascoltare la più antica versione conosciuta della melodia e, insieme, alcune strofe tratte dalla prima edizione nota del testo, una raccolta del 1584 intitolata A Handful of Pleasant Delites. Ecco il testo completo (le parti in corsivo sono omesse da Deller):
Alas, my love, you do me wrong
To cast me off discourteously,
For I have loved you well and long,
Delighting in your company.
Greensleeves was all my joy,
Greensleeves was my delight,
Greensleeves was my heart of gold,
And who but my lady Greensleeves.
I have been ready at your hand,
To grant whatever you would crave;
I have both waged life and land,
Your love and good-will for to have.
I bought three kerchers to thy head,
That were wrought fine and gallantly;
I kept them both at board and bed,
Which cost my purse well-favour’dly.
I bought thee petticoats of the best,
The cloth so fine as fine might be:
I gave thee jewels for thy chest;
And all this cost I spent on thee.
Thy smock of silk both fair and white,
With gold embroidered gorgeously;
Thy petticoat of sendall right;
And this I bought thee gladly.
Thy girdle of gold so red,
With pearls bedecked sumptously,
The like no other lasses had;
And yet you do not love me!
Thy purse, and eke thy gay gilt knives,
Thy pin-case, gallant to the eye;
No better wore the burgess’ wives;
And yet thou wouldst not love me!
Thy gown was of the grassy green,
The sleeves of satin hanging by;
Which made thee be our harvest queen;
And yet thou wouldst not love me!
Thy garters fringed with the gold,
And silver aglets hanging by;
Which made thee blithe for to behold;
And yet thou wouldst not love me!
My gayest gelding thee I gave,
To ride wherever liked thee;
No lady ever was so brave;
And yet thou wouldst not love me!
My men were clothed all in green,
And they did ever wait on thee;
All this was gallant to be seen;
And yet thou wouldst not love me!
They set thee up, they took thee down,
They served thee with humility;
Thy foot might not once touch the ground;
And yet thou wouldst not love me!
For every morning, when thou rose,
I sent thee dainties, orderly,
To cheer thy stomach from all woes;
And yet thou wouldst not love me!
Thou couldst desire no earthly thing,
But still thou hadst it readily,
Thy music still to play and sing;
And yet thou wouldst not love me!
And who did pay for all this gear,
That thou didst spend when pleased thee?
Even I that am rejected here,
And thou disdainst to love me!
Well! I will pray to God on high,
That thou my constancy mayst see,
And that, yet once before I die,
Thou wilt vouchsafe to love me!
Greensleeves, now farewell! Adieu!
God I pray to prosper thee!
For I am still thy lover true;
Come once again and love me!
Da una ristampa, datata 1878, di A Handful of Pleasant Delites
In una antologia di «musica scespiriana», Greensleeves non può mancare: la canzone della bella signora dalle maniche verdi è infatti menzionata nella commedia The Merry Wives of Windsor (pubblicata per la prima volta nel 1602, ma si ritiene sia stata scritta prima del 1597). La trama è nota: il panciuto e squattrinato cavaliere John Falstaff tenta maldestramente di sedurre due signore, Mistress Ford e Mistress Page, sposate a ricchi borghesi di Windsor (nel Berkshire); ottenendo i loro favori sir John spera di sistemare le proprie finanze, ma viene subito smascherato: le due donne si accorgono di aver ricevuto lettere d’amore identiche, perciò decidono di vendicarsi e ordiscono alcune perfide burle ai danni di Falstaff.
Quando l’imbroglio viene scoperto, questo è il commento di Mistress Ford (atto II, scena 1ª):
I shall think the worse of fat men, as long as I have an eye to make difference of men’s liking: and yet he would not swear; praised women’s modesty; and gave such orderly and well-behaved reproof to all uncomeliness, that I would have sworn his disposition would have gone to the truth of his words; but they do no more adhere and keep place together than the Hundredth Psalm to the tune of Green Sleeves.
È vero, Greensleeves non va d’accordo con il Salmo 100: ma è un impedimento di carattere puramente metrico – i versi («Acclamate il Signore, voi tutti della terra»; nella versione della Great Bible, 1539: «O be joyful in the Lord, all ye lands») non combaciano affatto con la melodia – e non una sorta di divieto morale. L’adattamento di un testo sacro a una melodia profana («travestimento spirituale») non ha mai costituito un problema, e del resto abbiamo già visto (qui) che, nel corso della sua storia pluricentenaria, la stessa Greensleeves ha prestato la propria melodia a un canto religioso.
L’ultima burla ai danni di Falstaff ha luogo nella foresta di Windsor, dove egli viene invitato a recarsi, vestito da cacciatore, per un incontro amoroso (atto V, scena 5ª). «Sir John!», lo apostrofa Mistress Ford, «Art thou there, my deer? my male deer?»; Falstaff risponde affermando che nemmeno una «tempesta di amorose provocazioni», fra le quali la melodia di Greensleeves, riuscirà a distoglierlo da lei:
My doe with the black scut! Let the sky rain potatoes; let it thunder to the tune of Green Sleeves, hail kissing-comfits and snow eringoes; let there come a tempest of provocation, I will shelter me here.
(Qualche breve spiegazione:
– potatoes: quando la patata fu introdotta in Europa, appunto all’epoca di Shakespeare, era considerata afrodisiaca;
– kissing-comfits: dolcetti di zucchero profumati, usati per rinfrescare l’alito;
– eringoes: non si riferisce alle piante erbacee in Italia chiamate calcatreppole, bensì al fungo da noi comunemente noto come cardoncello, nome scientifico pleurotus eryngii, fin dall’Antichità considerato afrodisiaco.)

Symphonie dramatique
Hector Berlioz (1803 - 1869): Roméo et Juliette, symphonie dramatique op. 17 (1839); libretto by Émile Deschamps, based on Shakespeare’s play Romeo and Juliet. Marianne Crebassa, mezzo-soprano; Paolo Fanale, tenor; Alex Esposito, bass; Choeur de Radio France directed by Howard Arman; Orchestre national de France; Daniele Gatti, conductor.
PREMIÈRE PARTIE
Introduction: Combats – Tumulte – Intervention du Prince [1:45]
Prologue:
Récitatif choral: «D’anciennes haines endormies» [6:50]
Strophes: «Premiers transports que nul n’oublie» [12:09]
Récitatif et Scherzetto: «Bientôt de Roméo la pâle rêverie» [19:27]
DEUXIÈME PARTIE
Roméo seul – Tristesse – Bruits lontains de concert et bal [23:13]
Grande fête chez Capulet [30:50]
Nuit sereine – Le Jardin de Capulet, silencieux et désert – Les jeunes Capulets, sortant de la fête, passent en chantant des réminiscences de la musique du bal – Scène d’amour [37:30]
TROISIÈME PARTIE
Convoi funèbre de Juliette: «Jetez des fleurs pour la vierge expirée» [1:07:59]
Roméo au tombeau des Capulets [1:18:43]
Finale:
La foule accourt au cimetière – Rixe des Capulet et des Montagus [1:26:59]
Récitatif et Air du Père Laurence: «Pauvres enfants que je pleure» [1:31:19]
Serment de réconciliation: «Jurez donc par l’auguste symbole» [1:40:20]

Con il suo ensemble, The Broadside Band, Jeremy Barlow ha lavorato a lungo e proficuamente sulle musiche utilizzate da Johann Christoph Pepusch nell’Opera del mendicante (The Beggar’s Opera, 1728) di John Gay: la quale è l’unica ballad opera di cui si parli ancora ai nostri giorni, grazie anche al rifacimento brechtiano del 1928, Die Dreigroschenoper, che adotta però musiche originali composte da Kurt Weill. Per l’Opera del mendicante invece, com’è noto, Pepusch adattò i testi di Gay a melodie che all’epoca avevano una certa notorietà, prendendole a prestito da broadside ballads, arie d’opera, inni religiosi e canti di tradizione popolare.
Oltre a produrre un’edizione completa del lavoro di Gay e Pepusch, Barlow e la sua band hanno inciso (per Harmonia Mundi, 1982) anche un’antologia degli airs più famosi (in tutto nove brani), di ciascuno dei quali proponendo non solo la versione dell’Opera del mendicante ma anche la composizione originale e eventuali altre sue trasformazioni, varianti e parodie.
L’ultima sezione dell’antologia, che qui sottopongo alla vostra attenzione, è dedicato a Greensleeves. Comprende, nell’ordine:
una improvvisazione sul passamezzo antico, eseguita al liuto da George Weigand
Greensleeves, la più antica versione nota della melodia (dal William Ballet’s Lute Book, c1590-1603) con la più antica versione nota del testo (da A Handful of Pleasant Delights, 1584), cantata da Paul Elliott accompagnato al liuto da Weigand [1:13]
Alas, my love, you do me wrong,
To cast me off discourteously.
And I have loved you so long,
Delighting in your company.
Greensleeves was all my joy,
Greensleeves was my delight,
Greensleeves was my heart of gold,
And who but my Lady Greensleeves.
I have been ready at your hand,
To grant whatever you wouldst crave,
I have both waged life and land,
Your love and goodwill for to have.
Well I will pray to God on high
That thou my constancy mayst see,
And that yet once before I die,
Thou wilt vouchsafe to love me.
Greensleeves, now farewell, adieu,
God I pray to prosper thee,
For I am still thy lover true,
Come once again and love me.
Greensleeves, la versione più diffusa all’inizio del Seicento, secondo William Cobbold (1560 - 1639) e altri autori, con improvvisazioni eseguite da Weigand alla chitarra barocca e da Rosemary Thorndycraft al bass viol [4:07]
la versione dell’Opera del mendicante che già conosciamo, interpretata ancora da Elliott a solo [5:27]
un misto di tre jigs irlandesi eseguito da Barlow al flauto e da Alastair McLachlan al violino [6:03]:
– A Basket of Oysters (da Moore’s Irish Melodies, 1834)
– A Basket of Oysters or Paddythe Weaver (Aird’s selection, 1788)
– Greensleeves (versione raccolta a Limerick nel 1852)

With his ensemble, The Broadside Band, Jeremy Barlow worked extensively and profitably on the music used by Johann Christoph Pepusch in John Gay’s The Beggar’s Opera (1728): it is the only ballad opera still being talked about in our days, thanks also to Bertolt Brecht’s 1928 remake, Die Dreigroschenoper, which however has original music composed by Kurt Weill. It is not the same for The Beggar’s Opera: Gay’s lyrics were in fact adapted by Pepusch to melodies that at the time already had a certain notoriety, borrowing them from broadside ballads, opera arias, religious hymns and folk songs.
Barlow and his band have recorded a complete edition of Gay and Pepusch’s work, as well as an anthology of its most famous airs (nine pieces in all), of each of which they presented not only The Beggar’s Opera version, but also the original composition and some of its variants and parodies.
The last track of the anthology, the one I submit to your attention here, is dedicated to Greensleeves. It includes, in order:
a lute extemporisation on passamezzo antico ground, performed by George Weigand
Greensleeves, earliest version of melody (from William Ballet’s Lute Book, c1590-1603) with earliest surviving words (A Handful of Pleasant Delights, 1584), sung by Paul Elliott accompanied on lute by Weigand [1:13]
Alas, my love, you do me wrong,
To cast me off discourteously.
And I have loved you so long,
Delighting in your company.
Greensleeves was all my joy,
Greensleeves was my delight,
Greensleeves was my heart of gold,
And who but my Lady Greensleeves.
I have been ready at your hand,
To grant whatever you wouldst crave,
I have both waged life and land,
Your love and goodwill for to have.
Well I will pray to God on high
That thou my constancy mayst see,
And that yet once before I die,
Thou wilt vouchsafe to love me.
Greensleeves, now farewell, adieu,
God I pray to prosper thee,
For I am still thy lover true,
Come once again and love me.
Greensleeves, the most widespread version at the beginning of the seventeenth century, according to William Cobbold (1560 - 1639) and other authors, with improvisations performed by Weigand on baroque guitar and by Rosemary Thorndycraft on bass viol [4:07]
The Beggar’s Opera version (we already know it) sung by Elliott a solo [5:27]
a medley of three Irish jigs performed by Barlow on flute and Alastair McLachlan on violin [6:03]:
– A Basket of Oysters (da Moore’s Irish Melodies, 1834)
– A Basket of Oysters or Paddythe Weaver (Aird’s selection, 1788)
– Greensleeves (collected Limerick 1852).

Like a worm in the bud
Franz Josef Haydn (1732 - 1809): She never told her love, canzonetta for voice and keyboard instrument Hob.XXVIa:34 (1794-95); lyrics by William Shakespeare (Twelfth Night, act 2, scene 4). Anne Sofie von Otter, mezzo-soprano; Melvyn Tan, fortepiano.
She never told her love,
but let concealment,
like a worm in the bud,
feed on her damask cheek,
she sat,
like patience on a monument,
smiling, smiling at grief.
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Agostino Steffani (25 luglio 1654 - 1728): Stabat mater a 6 voci, coro, archi e basso continuo (1728). Coro della Radio Svizzera, dir. Diego Fasolis; I Barocchisti, dir. René Clemencic.
Antonio Calegari (1757 - 22 luglio 1828): La resurrezione di Lazzaro, oratorio (1779). Cristo: Roberta Giua, soprano; Tommaso: Luca Dordolo, tenore; Maddalena: Rosita Frisani, soprano; Marta: Manuela Custer, contralto; Lazzaro: Salvo Vitale, basso; coro Athestis; Academia de li Musici, dir. Filippo Maria Bressan.

Beauty and kindness
Franz Schubert (1797 - 1828): An Silvia, Lied for voice and piano op. 106 n. 4, D 891 (1826); lyrics by William Shakespeare (from The Two Gentlemen of Verona, act 4, scene 2), German translation by Eduard von Bauernfeld. Fritz Wunderlich, tenor; Hubert Giesen, piano.
|
Was ist Silvia, saget an,
Dass sie die weite Flur preist? Schön und zart seh’ ich sie nah’n, Auf Himmels Gunst und Spur weist, Dass ihr alles untertan. Ist sie schön und gut dazu? Darum Silvia, tön’, o Sang, |
Who is Silvia? what is she,
That all our swains commend her? Holy, fair, and wise is she; The heaven such grace did lend her, That she might admirèd be. Is she kind as she is fair? Then to Silvia let us sing, |

English translation: please click here.
Il suon d’argento
Anonimo (probabilmente Richard Edwardes, 1525 - 1566): Where griping grief. Versione per voce (soprano) e liuto: Emma Kirkby e Anthony Rooley. Versione a 4 voci: Deller Consort.
Where griping grief the heart would wound
And doleful dumps the mind oppress,
There music with her silver sound
Is wont with speed to give redress
Of troubled minds, for ev’ry sore,
Sweet music hath a salve in store.
In joy it makes our mirth abound,
In grief it cheers our heavy sprites,
The careful head relief hath found,
By music’s pleasant sweet delights;
Our senses, what should I say more,
Are subject unto Music’s law.
The gods by music have their praise,
The soul therein doth joy;
For as the Roman poets say,
In seas whom pirates would destroy,
A dolphin saved from death most sharp,
Arion playing on his harp.
O heavenly gift, that turns the mind,
Like as the stern doth rule the ship,
Of music whom the gods assigned,
To comfort man whom cares would nip,
Since thou both man and beast doth move,
What wise man then will thee reprove.
Forse figlio illegittimo di Enrico VIII, Richard Edwardes fu poeta, autore drammatico, gentiluomo della Chapel Royal e maestro del coro di voci bianche della medesima istituzione sotto le regine Maria e Elisabetta I. Nei suoi ultimi anni compilò un’ampia silloge di testi poetici di autori diversi, cui aggiunse, firmandoli, alcuni componimenti propri, e fra questi appunto Where gripyng grief, con il titolo In commendation of Musick. La raccolta, intitolata The Paradise of Dainty Devices, fu pubblicata postuma nel 1576, a cura di Henry Disle; dei molti volumi miscellanei dati alle stampe in quel periodo fu il più fortunato, tant’è vero che fu ristampato nove volte nei successivi trent’anni.
Del testo si trovano, anche nel web, numerose varianti, quasi tutte di poco conto, a cominciare da «When… Then…» invece di «Where… There…» nella prima strofa; ma è chiaramente un errore l’«Anon» che non di rado sostituisce «Arion» all’inizio dell’ultimo verso della terza strofa: Edwardes fa infatti riferimento a Arione di Métimna, l’antico citaredo che secondo Erodoto inventò il ditirambo e che, racconta il mito, si salvò da sicura morte in mare lasciandosi portare a riva da un delfino che aveva ammaliato con il canto.

Le due fonti manoscritte che ci hanno tramandato la musica di Where griping grief (il Mulliner Book, raccolta di composizioni per strumento a tastiera databile fra il 1550 e il 1585 circa; e il Brogyntyn Lute Book, c1595) non riportano né il testo né il nome dell’autore: si ritiene probabile che anche la musica sia dello stesso Edwardes. La melodia è finemente cesellata; pur procedendo prevalentemente per gradi congiunti, presenta non pochi intervalli più ampi, fra cui un’insolita (per l’epoca) ottava diminuita — sulle parole «dumps the» nel secondo verso della prima strofa.
Il brano doveva essere abbastanza noto all’epoca di Shakespeare, perché questi lo cita in una scena di Romeo e Giulietta. Alla fine del IV atto, dopo che la Nutrice ha rinvenuto il corpo esanime della giovane Capuleti e un cupo inatteso dolore strazia i suoi familiari, alcuni musicisti, che erano stati convocati per allietare la festa delle nozze di Giulietta con il conte Paride, ripongono mestamente gli strumenti e stanno per andarsene quando sopraggiunge Pietro (servitore della Nutrice) e chiede ai musici di suonare per lui; gli altri rispondono che non è il momento adatto per far musica, sicché Pietro inizia a battibeccare con loro e infine, citando Where griping grief, trova il modo di insolentirli. La scena consiste in una lunga serie di giochi di parole a sfondo musicale, da alcuni critici considerati di bassa lega — tanto che qualche traduttore italiano ha pensato bene di omettere l’intero passo. Ma secondo me la scena non è affatto priva di interesse, ragion per cui la riporto qui di seguito: a sinistra l’originale inglese, a destra non esattamente una traduzione, ma piuttosto una reinterpretazione, con alcune esplicite allusioni a musiche famose ai tempi del Bardo e già note ai frequentatori di questo blog.
|
PETER
Musicians, O musicians, Heart’s Ease, Heart’s Ease. O, an you will have me live, play Heart’s Ease. |
PIETRO
Musici, o musici, Chi passa, Chi passa. Se volete ch’io viva, suonate Chi passa. |
|
FIRST MUSICIAN
Why Heart’s ease? |
1° MUSICO
Perché Chi passa? |
|
PETER
O musicians, because my heart itself plays My Heart is Full. O, play me some merry dump to comfort me. |
PIETRO
O musici, perché il mio cuore sta danzando un passamezzo che non passa. Prego, suonate qualche allegro lamento per confortarmi. |
|
FIRST MUSICIAN
Not a dump, we. ‘Tis no time to play now. |
1° MUSICO
No, niente lamenti. Non è il momento di suonare. |
|
PETER
You will not then? |
PIETRO
Non volete suonare? |
|
FIRST MUSICIAN
No. |
1° MUSICO
No. |
|
PETER
I will then give it you soundly. |
PIETRO
Allora ve le suonerò io, sentirete. |
|
FIRST MUSICIAN
What will you give us? |
1° MUSICO
Che cosa sentiremo? |
|
PETER
No money, on my faith, but the gleek. I will give you the minstrel. |
PIETRO
Oh, non un tintinnar di monete, ve l’assicuro, ma piuttosto una canzon…atura. Ecco, vi tratterò da menestrelli. |
|
FIRST MUSICIAN
Then I will give you the serving creature. |
1° MUSICO
E allora noi ti tratteremo da giullare. |
|
PETER
Then will I lay the serving creature’s dagger on your pate. I will carry no crotchets. I’ll re you, I’ll fa you. Do you note me? |
PIETRO
E allora riceverete la sonagliera del giullare sulla zucca. Vi avevo chiesto lamenti e mi date capricci. Così ve le suonerò: prendete nota. |
|
FIRST MUSICIAN
An you re us and fa us, you note us. |
1° MUSICO
Se ce le suoni, prenderemo davvero le tue note. |
|
SECOND MUSICIAN
Pray you, put up your dagger and put out your wit. |
2° MUSICO
Per favore, riponi la tua sonagliera e va’ adagio. |
|
PETER
Then have at you with my wit. I will dry-beat you with an iron wit and put up my iron dagger. Answer me like men. (sings) When griping grief the heart doth wound And doleful dumps the mind oppress, Then Music with her silver sound— Why «silver sound»? Why «Music with her silver sound»? What say you, Simon Catling? |
PIETRO
Andrò a mio agio e vi metterò a disagio. I miei adagi non sono meno pesanti della sonagliera. Rispondete dunque, da uomini, ai miei colpi. (canta) Quando ferisce il cuore arduo tormento E la mente grava penoso tedio, Allora Musica dal suon d’argento… Perché «suon d’argento»? Perché dice «Musica dal suon d’argento»? Tu che ne dici, Simon Cantino? |
|
FIRST MUSICIAN
Marry, sir, because silver hath a sweet sound. |
1° MUSICO
Diamine, signore, perché l’argento ha un dolce suono. |
|
PETER
Prates. What say you, Hugh Rebeck? |
PIETRO
Ciance. E tu che dici, Ugo Ribeca? |
|
SECOND MUSICIAN
I say, «silver sound» because musicians sound for silver. |
2° MUSICO
Dico: «suon d’argento» perché i musicisti suonano per guadagnarsi dell’argento. |
|
PETER
Prates too. What say you, James Soundpost? |
PIETRO
Ciance anche queste. E tu, Giaco Bischero? |
|
THIRD MUSICIAN
Faith, I know not what to say. |
3° MUSICO
In fede mia, non so che dire. |
|
PETER
Oh, I cry you mercy, you are the singer. I will say for you. It is «Music with her silver sound» because musicians have no gold for sounding. (sings) Then Music with her silver sound With speedy help doth lend redress. (exit) |
PIETRO
Oh, ti chiedo scusa: tu sei quello che canta. Be’, risponderò io per te: dice «Musica col suon d’argento» perché i musicisti non hanno mai oro da far risonare. (canta) Allora Musica dal suon d’argento Con lesto soccorso pone rimedio. (esce) |
|
FIRST MUSICIAN
What a pestilent knave is this same! |
1° MUSICO
Che pestifero furfante è costui! |
|
SECOND MUSICIAN
Hang him, Jack! Come, we’ll in here, tarry for the mourners and stay dinner. (exeunt) |
2° MUSICO
Lascialo perdere! Venite, entriamo: aspetteremo quelli che verranno per il funerale e ci fermeremo a pranzo. (escono) |

Her silver sound
Anonymous (probably Richard Edwardes, 1525 - 1566): Where griping grief. Two versions:
– as a song for 1 voice (soprano) and lute: Emma Kirkby and Anthony Rooley.
– as a partsong for 4 voices: the Deller Consort.
Where griping grief the heart would wound
And doleful dumps the mind oppress,
There music with her silver sound
Is wont with speed to give redress
Of troubled minds, for ev’ry sore,
Sweet music hath a salve in store.
In joy it makes our mirth abound,
In grief it cheers our heavy sprites,
The careful head relief hath found,
By music’s pleasant sweet delights;
Our senses, what should I say more,
Are subject unto Music’s law.
The gods by music have their praise,
The soul therein doth joy;
For as the Roman poets say,
In seas whom pirates would destroy,
A dolphin saved from death most sharp,
Arion playing on his harp.
O heavenly gift, that turns the mind,
Like as the stern doth rule the ship,
Of music whom the gods assigned,
To comfort man whom cares would nip,
Since thou both man and beast doth move,
What wise man then will thee reprove.
Richard Edwardes, possibly an illegitimate son of Henry VIII, was a poet, playwright, gentleman of the Chapel Royal and choirmaster of the same institution in the reigns of Mary and Elizabeth I. In his later years he compiled an extensive anthology of poems by various authors, adding his own, including Where griping grief (under the title In commendation of Musick). The anthology, titled The Paradise of Dainty Devices, appeared posthumously in 1576, edited by Henry Disle; it was the most successful of the numerous miscellaneous books printed at the end of the sixteenth century: it was in fact reprinted nine times in the following thirty years.
There are, even on the Internet, many variants of Where griping grief, almost all of little importance, such as for example «When… Then…» instead of «Where… There…» in the first line; but the «Anon» which often replaces «Arion» at the beginning of the last line of the third stanza is clearly a mistake: Edwardes in fact refers to Arion of Methymna, a kitharode in ancient Greece credited with inventing the dithyramb: according to the myth, Arion was saved from certain death at sea by being carried ashore by a dolphin that he had enchanted with his own singing.

The two manuscript sources that have handed down the music of Where griping grief (the Mulliner Book, a collection of pieces for keyboard instrument dating between about 1550 and 1585; and the Brogyntyn Lute Book, c1595) do not bear neither the text nor the name of the composer: the music is thought to be probably by Edwardes himself. Where griping grief has a finely chiseled tune; though proceeding mainly in joint degrees, it has several larger intervals, including an unusual (at that time) diminished octave — to the words «dumps the» in the second line of the first stanza.
Where griping grief must have been quite well known in Shakespeare’s time, so much so that its first stanza is quoted in a scene from Romeo and Juliet, at the end of the fourth act, after the Nurse has found the lifeless body of the young Capulet and a gloomy unexpected pain torments his relatives; the news also saddens some musicians, who had been summoned to cheer Juliet’s wedding party: they are putting away their instruments before leaving when Peter (the Nurse’s servant) asks them to play for him; since the musicians have no intention of pleasing him, Peter begins to argue with them and finally, quoting Where griping grief, finds a way to insult them.
PETER
Answer me like men.
(sings)
When griping grief the heart doth wound
And doleful dumps the mind oppress,
Then Music with her silver sound—
Why «silver sound»? Why «Music with her silver sound»? What say you, Simon Catling?
FIRST MUSICIAN
Marry, sir, because silver hath a sweet sound.
PETER
Prates. What say you, Hugh Rebeck?
SECOND MUSICIAN
I say, «silver sound» because musicians sound for silver.
PETER
Prates too. What say you, James Soundpost?
THIRD MUSICIAN
Faith, I know not what to say.
PETER
Oh, I cry you mercy, you are the singer. I will say for you. It is «Music with her silver sound» because musicians have no gold for sounding.
(sings)
Then Music with her silver sound
With speedy help doth lend redress.
(exit)

Fryderyk Chopin (1810 - 1849): Mazurka in fa diesis minore op. 6 n. 1 (1830-31). Arthur Rubinstein, pianoforte.
Il tono popolareggiante è posto subito in evidenza, con la caratteristica terzina che inizia ciascuna semifrase del primo tema; questo consiste di due periodi, uguali nella prima metà e differenti nella seconda, ed è ripetuto cinque volte: la prima ripetizione è immediata, mentre alle successive sono intercalati altri tre episodi, il secondo dei quali è una variante del primo. La struttura complessiva segue dunque lo schema AABAB’ACA. Nel tema A, all’inizio del secondo periodo è posta la didascalia «rubato»: questa indicazione ricorre in tutte le Mazurche delle prime raccolte, fino al secondo brano dell’op. 24.
Pauline Viardot-García (18 luglio 1821 - 1910): Plainte d’amour, sulla Mazurca op. 6 n. 1 di Chopin; testo di Louis Pomey. Marina Comparato, mezzosoprano; Elisa Triulzi, pianoforte.
Chère âme, sans toi j’expire,
Pourquoi taire ma douleur?
Mes lèvres veulent sourire
Mes yeux disent mon malheur.
Hélas! Loin de toi j’expire.
Que ma cruelle peine,
De ton âme hautaine
Désarme la rigueur.
Cette nuit dans un rêve,
Je croyais te voir;
Ah, soudain la nuit s’achève,
Et s’enfuit l’espoir.
Je veux sourire
Hélas! La mort est dans mon coeur.
Celebre mezzosoprano e compositrice, sorella della non meno famosa Maria Malibran, la Viardot fu allieva e amica di Chopin, che per lei nutrì sempre profonda stima e simpatia. Sembra che Fryderyk non disprezzasse affatto quel tipo di elaborazioni delle sue opere: alla Viardot espresse anzi il proprio gradimento. Pauline Viardot pubblicò due raccolte di Mazourkas de Chopin arrangées pour la voix, in tutto 12 brani, nel 1848.

NB: salvo diversa indicazione, i testi inseriti negli articoli dedicati a Chopin nel presente blog sono tratti dal volume Chopin: Signori il catalogo è questo di C. C. e Giorgio Dolza, Einaudi, Torino 2001.
Giovanni Bononcini (18 luglio 1670 - 1747): Il lamento d’Olimpia, cantata da camera per 1 voce, 2 violini e basso continuo (pubblicata in Cantate e duetti dedicati alla Sacra Maestà di Giorgio, re della Gran Bretagna, Londra 1721). Gloria Banditelli, contralto; Ensemble Aurora, dir. Enrico Gatti.
I. Preludio: Affettuoso – Allegro
II. Recitativo [3:32]
Le tenui rugiade
scotea dal carro d’or sull’erbe e i fiori
la rubiconda Aurora
allor ch’Olimpia, non ben desta ancora,
dell’amante infedele
vedova a un tratto ritrovò le piume.
Sciolse la tema dell’incerto danno
le reliquie del sonno in su i bei lumi;
e sospesa e tremante
dal lido al letto e dalla selva al lido,
chiamando il nome infido,
poiché più volte riportò le piante,
su la cima d’un sasso,
il guardo fisse entro l’aere dubbioso,
e, fra mille lamenti,
queste all’aure spiegò voci dolenti.
III. Aria: Affettuoso [4:48]
Vasto mar,
balze romite
deh mi dite,
il mio bene
ov’è, che fa.
Onde quiete,
aure serene
erbe, fiori,
ombrose piante,
il mio bene
se sapete,
rispondete
per pietà.
IV. Recitativo [8:47]
Lassa, che son la luce
la mia doglia s’avanza.
Io veggio, oh Dio, le gonfie
ingannatrici vele
dello sposo infedele
fuggir per l’acque, e portar lunge il vento
colla nave spergiura il mio lamento
Queste, Bireno ingrato,
son le promesse, il fido amore è questo?
Quanti, quanti pur dinanzi,
sotto il silenzio dell’ombrosa notte
e il tremolar delle invocate stelle,
giuramenti non fe’ d’esser costante!
Misera Olimpia, abbandonata amante,
in qual mente, in qual seno
più luogo avrà la vereconda fede,
s’io son schernita e m’ingannò Bireno?
V. Aria: Con spirito [10:20]
Quando dicea d’amarmi
allor volea lasciarmi
e mi tradiva allor.
Di mille inganni fabro
fede giurava il labro,
ed era infido il cor .

Sir James MacMillan (16 luglio 1959): The Gallant Weaver per coro a cappella (1997) su testo di Robert Burns. The Sixteen, dir. Harry Christophers
Where Cart rins rowin’ to the sea,
By mony a flower and spreading tree,
There lives a lad, the lad for me,
He is a gallant Weaver.
O, I had wooers aught or nine,
They gied me rings and ribbons fine;
And I was fear’d my heart wad tine,
And I gied it to the Weaver.
My daddie sign’d my tocher-band,
To gie the lad that has the land,
But to my heart I’ll add my hand,
And give it to the Weaver.
While birds rejoice in leafy bowers,
While bees delight in opening flowers,
While corn grows green in summer showers,
I love my gallant Weaver.

Giovanni Buonaventura Viviani (15 luglio 1638 - p1692): Beatus vir (Salmo 111) per basso e strumenti (pubblicato in Salmi, Mottetti e Litanie della B. V. a 1. 2. 3. voci op. V, 1688). Markus Flaig, basso; ensemble Vita & Anima, dir. Peter Waldner.

Jane Vieu (15 luglio 1781 - 1955): Sérénade japonaise, mélodie (1903) su testo di Serge Rello. Katherine Eberle, mezzosoprano; Robin Guy, pianoforte.
Mets ta robe d’azur,
Chausse tes pieds fragiles.
Près du bambou flexible
Une source frémit:
Les étoiles s’y mirent,
En des sursauts fébriles,
Comme des yeux de femme
Aux yeux de leur ami!
Viens, Taïmu, descends,
La rosée est divine,
Clair joyau sous la lune
A l’opalin baiser;
Je voudrais l’accrocher
A ta blonde poitrine
Et la prendre à tes cils,
Pour aller m’en griser.
Mets ta robe d’azur…
La lune de cristal
Fait la nature bléme,
C’est l’heure du silence ému!
Le cœur s’écoute mieux!
Il semble que tout s’aime!
Aimons nous! douce Taïmu!
Mets ta robe d’azur…

Étienne-Nicolas Méhul (1763 - 1817): Le Chant du départ (originariamente Hymne de la liberté) per voci soliste, coro e orchestra (1794) su testo di Marie-Joseph Chénier (1764 - 1811). Versione con orchestra di strumenti a fiato e timpani: Antonella Balducci, soprano; Dennis Hall, baritono; Coro e Orchestra della Radiotelevisione della Svizzera italiana, dir. Herbert Handt.
Le Chant du départ (testo completo)
La victoire en chantant nous ouvre la barrière.
La liberté guide nos pas.
Et du Nord au Midi, la trompette guerrière
A sonné l’heure des combats.
Tremblez, ennemis de la France,
Rois ivres de sang et d’orgueil!
Le Peuple souverain s’avance;
Tyrans descendez au cercueil.
Chant des guerriers (refrain):
La République nous appelle:
Sachons vaincre ou sachons périr.
Un Français doit vivre pour elle,
Pour elle un Français doit mourir.
Une mère de famille :
De nos yeux maternels ne craignez pas les larmes:
Loin de nous de lâches douleurs!
Nous devons triompher quand vous prenez les armes:
C’est aux rois à verser des pleurs.
Nous vous avons donné la vie,
Guerriers, elle n’est plus à vous;
Tous vos jours sont à la patrie:
Elle est votre mère avant nous.
(refrain)
Deux vieillards :
Que le fer paternel arme la main des braves;
Songez à nous au champ de Mars;
Consacrez dans le sang des rois et des esclaves
Le fer béni par vos vieillards;
Et, rapportant sous la chaumière
Des blessures et des vertus,
Venez fermer notre paupière
Quand les tyrans ne seront plus.
(refrain)
Un enfant :
De Barra, de Viala le sort nous fait envie;
Ils sont morts, mais ils ont vaincu.
Le lâche accablé d’ans n’a point connu la vie:
Qui meurt pour le peuple a vécu.
Vous êtes vaillants, nous le sommes:
Guidez-nous contre les tyrans;
Les républicains sont des hommes,
Les esclaves sont des enfants.
(refrain)
Une épouse :
Partez, vaillants époux: les combats sont vos fêtes.
Partez, modèles des guerriers:
Nous cueillerons des fleurs pour en ceindre vos têtes.
Nos mains tresseront vos lauriers.
Et, si le temple de mémoire
S’ouvrait à vos mânes vainqueurs,
Nos voix chanteront votre gloire,
Nos flancs porteront vos vengeurs.
(refrain)
Une jeune fille :
Et nous, sœurs des héros, nous qui de l’hyménée
Ignorons les aimables nœuds,
Si, pour s’unir un jour à notre destinée,
Les citoyens forment des vœux,
Qu’ils reviennent dans nos murailles
Beaux de gloire et de liberté,
Et que leur sang, dans les batailles,
Ait coulé pour l’égalité.
(refrain)
Trois guerriers :
Sur le fer devant Dieu, nous jurons à nos pères,
À nos épouses, à nos sœurs,
À nos représentants, à nos fils, à nos mères,
D’anéantir les oppresseurs:
En tous lieux, dans la nuit profonde,
Plongeant l’infâme royauté,
Les Français donneront au monde
Et la paix et la liberté.
(refrain)

A Fool’s Song
Anonymous (16th century): Then they for sudden joy did weep, Fool’s song from the 1st act, scene 4, of Shakespeare’s King Lear (1605-06). The Deller Consort.
Then they for sudden joy did weep
And I for sorrow sung.

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

Juan del Encina (12 luglio 1468 - 1529): Triste España sin ventura, romance a 4 voci (1497), dal Cancionero de Palacio (n. 317). La Capella Reial de Catalunya e Hespèrion XXI, dir. Jordi Savall.
Triste España sin ventura,
todos te deven llorar.
Despoblada de alegría,
para nunca en ti tornar.
Tormentos, penas, dolores,
te vinieron a poblar.
Sembróte Dios de plazer
porque naciesse pesar.
Hízote la más dichosa
para más te lastimar.
Tus vitorias y triunfos
ya se hovieron de pagar.
Pues que tal pérdida pierdes,
dime en qué podrás ganar.
Pierdes la luz de tu gloria
y el gozo de tu gozar.
Pierdes toda tu esperança,
no te queda qué esperar.
Pierdes Príncipe tan alto,
hijo de reyes sin par.
Llora, llora, pues perdiste
quien te havía de ensalçar.
En su tierna juventud
te lo quiso Dios llevar.
Llevóte todo tu bien,
dexóte su desear,
porque mueras, porque penes,
sin dar fin a tu penar.
De tan penosa tristura
no te esperes consolar.

George Gershwin (1898 - 11 luglio 1937): Swanee (1919) eseguito al pianoforte dall’autore (incisione su rullo per pianoforte automatico). Il brano fu concepito, almeno in parte, come parodia di Old Folks At Home ovvero Swanee River (1851), famosissimo minstrel song di Stephen Foster.
Lo stesso brano cantato da Al Jolson, sul testo originale di Irving Caesar, nel film Rapsodia in blu (Rhapsody in Blue), biografia cinematografica di Gershwin diretta nel 1945 da Irving Rapper.
I’ve been away from you a long time.
I never thought I’d missed you so.
Somehow I feel
You love is real,
Near you I long to wanna be.
The birds are singin’, it is song time,
The banjos strummin’ soft and low.
I know that you
Yearn for me too.
Swanee! You’re calling me!
Swanee!
How I love you, how I love you!
My dear ol’ Swanee,
I’d give the world to be
Among the folks in
D-I-X-I-E-ven now My mammy’s
Waiting for me,
Praying for me,
Down by the Swanee.
The folks up north will see me no more
When I go to the Swanee Shore!
Swanee eseguito dal Banjo-Orchestra, uno strumento meccanico recentemente prodotto dalla D. C. Ramey Piano Company di Marysville, Ohio, sulla base del pressoché omonimo Banjorchestra, realizzato nel 1914 dalla Connorized Music Company, che aveva sedi a New York, a Chicago e a Saint Louis.

José de Nebra (1702 - 11 luglio 1768): Salve regina per 2 cori a 8 voci, 2 violini e basso continuo. Ensemble Los Elementos.

Ivresse de jeunesse
Charles Gounod (1818 - 1893): «Je veux vivre», Juliette’s valse-ariette (waltz song) from the 1st act of the opera Roméo et Juliette (1867), libretto by Jules Barbier and Michel Carré, based on Romeo and Juliet by William Shakespeare. Natalie Dessay, soprano; Orchestre du Capitole de Toulouse conducted by Michel Plasson.
Ah!
Je veux vivre
Dans ce rêve qui m’enivre
Ce jour encore!
Douce flamme,
Je te garde dans mon âme
Comme un trésor!
Cette ivresse de jeunesse
Ne dure, hélas, qu’un jour!
Puis vient l’heure
Où l’on pleure,
Le cœur cède à l’amour
Et le bonheur fuit sans retour!
Loin de l’hiver morose
Laisse-moi sommeiller
Et respirer la rose
Avant de l’effeuiller.

Johann Rudolf Ahle (1625 - 9 luglio 1673): Jesu dulcis memoria, mottetto per voce, 3 viole, violone e basso continuo (1657). Henri Ledroit, haute-contre; Ricercar Consort.
Jesu dulcis memoria,
dans vera cordi gaudia,
et super mel et omnia
eius dulcis praesentia.
Nil canitur suavius,
nil auditur iocundius,
nil cogitatur dulcius
quam Jesus Dei filius.

Ophelia sings
Anonymous (16th century): How should I your true love know, song of Ophelia from Shakespeare’s play Hamlet, act 4, scene 5. Alfred Deller, countertenor; Desmond Dupré, lute.
How should I your true-love know
From another one?
By his cockle bat and staff
And his sandal shoon.
He is dead and gone, lady,
He is dead and gone;
At his head a grass-green turf,
At his heels a stone.
White his shroud as the mountain snow,
Larded with sweet flowers.
Which bewept to the grave did go
With true-love showers.
