Jacopo Peri detto Zazzerino (20 agosto 1561 - 12 agosto 1633): Tu dormi, e ‘l dolce sonno. Ellen Hargis, soprano; Paul O’Dette, chitarrone; Andrew Lawrence-King, arpa; Hille Perl, lirone.
Tu dormi, e’l dolce sonno
Ti lusinga con l’ali, aura volante,
Né mov’ombra già mai tacite piante.
Io, che non ho riposo,
Se non quando da’ lumi
Verso torrenti e fiumi,
Esc’al notturno sol a me gioioso.
Tu lo splendor degl’argentati rai
Non rimiri, e tu stai
Sord’al duol che m’accora;
Io sent’e veggio ogn’hor l’aura e l’aurora.
Tu dormi, e non ascolti
Me che prego e sospiro, e piango e bramo,
E nell’alto silentio hora ti chiamo.
Ben ha profond’oblio,
Filli, sepolt’i tuoi sensi vitali,
E prov’invano
Destar in te pietà d’alma che more.
Non è Febo lontano,
Vien l’alba rugiadosa,
Ma che, dorm’e riposa,
Non piang’indarno i suoi torment’il core;
E se non senti tu, mi sent’amore.
Tu dormi, et io pur piango,
O bella, o del mio cor dolce tormento,
E col mio pianto io mir’il ciel intento.
Entro piume d’odori
Tu ripos’il bel fianco;
Io, fra mille dolori,
Sento senza pietà venirmi manco.
O sonno, o tu che porti pace ai cori,
E le menti egre conforti,
Te non chiamo già mai, ma sol desio
Che nei sospir’aquet’il morir mio.
The Protestation: A Sonnet
(Thomas Carew, 1595 - 1640)
No more shall meads be deck’d with flowers,
Nor sweetness dwell in rosy bowers,
Nor greenest buds on branches spring,
Nor warbling birds delight to sing,
Nor April violets paint the grove,
If I forsake [When once I leave] my Celia’s love.
The fish shall in the ocean burn,
And fountains sweet shall bitter turn;
The humble oak no flood shall know,
When floods shall highest hills o’er-flow;
Blacke Lethe shall oblivion leave,
If e’er my Celia I deceive.
Love shall his bow and shaft lay by,
And Venus’ doves want wings to fly;
The sun refuse to show his light,
And day shall then be turn’d to night;
And in that night no star appear,
If once I leave my Celia dear.
Love shall no more inhabit earth,
Nor lovers more shall love for worth,
Nor joy above in heaven dwell,
Nor pain torment poor souls in hell;
Grim death no more shall horrid prove,
If e’er I leave bright Celia’s love.
Love’s Constancy, sul testo di Carew, è fra le composizioni più note di Nicholas Lanier (1588 - 24 febbraio 1666); in rete se ne trovano varie interpretazioni: vi propongo l’ascolto di quelle che mi paiono le più interessanti.
Amanda Sidebottom, soprano, e Erik Ryding, liuto.
Anna Dennis, soprano; Hanneke van Proosdij, clavicembalo; Elisabeth Reed, viola da gamba; David Tayler, chitarra barocca.
La performance del soprano Ellen Hargis accompagnata da Paul O’Dette alla tiorba è accessibile soltanto su YouTube, in quanto il proprietario del video ne ha disattivata la visione in altri siti web. Potete ascoltarla qui.
John Dowland (1563 - 1626): In darkness let me dwell, ayre. Ellen Hargis, soprano; Jacob Heringman, liuto; Mary Springfels, viol.
In darkness let me dwell; the ground shall sorrow be,
The roof despair, to bar all cheerful light from me;
The walls of marble black, that moist’ned still shall weep;
My music, hellish jarring sounds, to banish friendly sleep.
Thus, wedded to my woes, and bedded in my tomb,
O let me living die, till death doth come, till death doth come.
Capolavoro di Dowland, il brano fu pubblicato dal figlio del compositore, Robert (1591 - 1641), nell’antologia A Musicall Banquet (Londra 1610, n. X). In darkness let me dwell è l’ultima delle composizioni vocali su testo inglese della raccolta: fanno seguito tre airs de cour francesi (tutti e tre di Pierre Guédron, il cui nome non è tuttavia menzionato nella pubblicazione), due romances spagnoli e cinque arie su testo italiano.
Anonimo (sec. XVII): As at noon Dulcina rested, ballad su testo attribuito erroneamente a sir Walter Raleigh (1554? - 1618). Ellen Hargis, soprano; Paul O’Dette, cittern; The King’s Noyse, dir. David Douglass.
As att noone Dulcina rested
In her sweete & shadie bower;
Came a sheppard, & requested
In her lap to sleepe an houre.
But from her looke
A wound hee tooke
Soe deepe, that for a farther boone
The Nimphe hee pray’d,
Whereto she say’d,
Forgoe mee nowe, come to mee soone.
But in vaine shee did conjure him
For to leave her presence soe,
Havinge a Thousand meanes t’alure him,
& but one to lett him goe.
Where lipps delighte,
& eyes invite,
& cheeks as fresh as rose in June,
Persuade to staie,
What boots to saye
Forgoe mee nowe, come to mee soone.
Hee demaunds what time or leisure
Can there be more fitt then nowe:
She saies, night gives love that pleasure,
Which the day cannot alowe.
The sunns clere light
Shyneth more bright
Quoth hee more fairer then the moone
For her to praise
Hee love, shee saies,
Forgoe mee nowe, come to mee soone.
With greife of heart this shepheard hasted
Up the mountaine to his flocks,
Then hee tooke a reed and piped
Th’echo sounded through the rocks,
Thus did hee plaie
& wishe the day
Were spent, & night were come ere noone,
For silent night
Is loves delight
Ile goe to faire Dulcina soone.
Beauties Darling faire Dulcina
Like to Venus for her love
Spent the day away in passion
Mourninge like the Turtle Dove,
Melodiouslie,
Notes lowe & highe
Shee farbled forth this dolefull tune,
O come againe,
Sweete sheppard swaine,
Thou canst not be with mee to soone.
When as Thetis in her pallace
Had receiv’d the prince of light
Came in Coridon the shepheard,
To his love and hearts delight.
The Pan did plaie
The wood Nimphes they
Did skip & daunce to heare the tune,
Hymen did saie
T’was holidaie,
Forgoe mee nowe, come to mee soone.
Sweete, hee say’d, as I did promise
I am nowe return’d againe,
Longe delaie you knowe breeds daunger
& to lov’rs breedeth paine.
The Nimph say’d then
Above all men
Still welcome shepheard morne & noone,
The shepheard praies,
Dulcina saies,
Shepheard, I doubt y’are come to soone.
Come you nowe to overthrowe mee,
Out alas I am betray’d,
Deare, is this the love you shewe mee
To betraie a silly maide.
Helpe, helpe, ay mee,
I dare not speake
I dare not crie, my heart will breake.
What, all alone?
Nay, then I finde
Men are to stronge for woemen kinde.
O sillie foole, whie doubt I tellinge
When I doubted not to truste.
If my bellie fall a swellinge
There’s noe helpe but out it must.
Ay mee, the greife,
Ay mee, the shame,
When I shall beare the common name.
Yet att the worst
Of my disgrace
I am not first, nor shal be laste.
La prima menzione di As at noon Dulcina rested risale al 1690, mentre la prima pubblicazione nota è del 1707 e si deve a Thomas D’Urfey, che l’inserì nella sua monumentale silloge intitolata Wit and Mirth, or Pills to Purge Melancholy (1698-1720). La musica è caratterizzata da un brusco cambio di ritmo e andamento al 5° verso della strofe: a una prima parte fluente, in ritmo binario, fa seguito una seconda parte saltellante, in ritmo ternario. Questo particolare induce a pensare che la musica fosse in origine destinata alla danza e che il brano con molta probabilità facesse parte di un masque, un genere di rappresentazione teatrale che andava molto in voga in Inghilterra ai tempi di Giacomo I.
Ebbe vita propria come composizione soltanto strumentale, mantenendo perlopiù il titolo di Dulcina derivatole dal testo dello pseudo-Raleigh. Purtuttavia, in precedenza William Brade (un inglese attivo a Amburgo: l’abbiamo già incontrato, per esempio qui) l’aveva rielaborato a cinque parti strumentali e pubblicato con il titolo di Turkische Intrada; qui è interpretato dai Musicians of the Globe diretti da Philip Pickett:
Anonimo (XVII secolo): Blew-cap for me. Ellen Hargis, soprano; Paul O’Dette, cittern.
Il testo fu pubblicato per la prima volta intorno al 1634 con il titolo Blew cap for me. Or, A Scottish lasse her resolute chusing shee’l have bonny blew-cap, all other refusing. To a curious new Scottish tune called Blew-cap.
There lives a blithe Lasse in Faukeland towne,
and shee had some suitors, I wot not how many;
But her resolution she had set down,
that shee’d have a Blew-cap gif e’re she had any:
An English man,
when our good king was there,
Came often unto her,
and loved her deere:
But still she replide, «Sir,
I pray let me be,
Gif ever I have a man,
Blew-cap for me.»
A Frenchman, that largely was booted and spur’d,
long lock’t, with a Ribon, long points and breeches,
Hee’s ready to kisse her at every word,
and for further exercise his fingers itches:
«You be pritty wench,
Mistris, par ma foy;
Be gar, me doe love you,
then be not you coy.»
But still she replide, «Sir,
I pray let me be;
Gif ever I have a man,
Blew-cap for me.»
An Irishman, with a long skeane in his hose,
did tinke to obtaine her it was no great matter;
Up stayres to her chamber so lightly he goes,
that she ne’re heard him until he came at her.
Quoth he, «I do love you,
by fate and by trote,
And if you will have me,
experience shall shote.»
But still she replide, «Sir,
I pray let me be;
Gif ever I have a man,
Blew-cap for me.»
A Dainty spruce Spanyard, with haire black as jett,
long cloak with round cape, a long Rapier and Ponyard;
Hee told her if that shee could Scotland forget,
hee’d shew her the Vines as they grow in the Vineyard.
«If thou wilt abandon
this Country so cold,
Ile shew thee faire Spaine,
and much Indian gold.»
But stil she replide, «Sir,
I pray let me be;
Gif ever I have a man,
Blew-cap for me.»
A haughty high German of Hamborough towne,
a proper tall gallant, with mighty mustachoes;
He weepes if the Lasse upon him doe but frowne,
yet he’s a great Fencer that comes to ore-match us.
But yet all his fine fencing
could not get the Lasse;
She deny’d him so oft,
that he wearyed was;
For still she replide, «Sir,
I pray let me be;
Gif ever I have a man,
Blew-cap for me.»
At last came a Scottish-man (with a blew-cap),
and he was the party for whom she had tarry’d;
To get this blithe bonny Lasse ‘twas his gude hap,–
they gang’d to the Kirk, & were presently marry’d.
I ken not weele whether
it were Lord or Leard;
They caude him some sike
a like name as I heard;
To chuse him from au
she did gladly agree,–
And still she cride, «Blew-cap,
th’art welcome to mee.»
La melodia è presente nella prima edizione (1651) della raccolta The English Dancing Master, curata da John Playford, con il titolo Blew Cap (n. 2). Qui è eseguita dai City Waites diretti da Lucie Skeaping:
la regina gioiosa 