Gene Stenger, tenor

gene stenger tenor

student recital Institute of Sacred Music ¡ Martin Jean, director March 3, 2014 • Marquand Chapel

Robert Blocker, Dean

Student Recital

gene stenger tenor Simon Jacobs, piano Monday, March 3, 2014 • 4:00 pm • Marquand Chapel John Dowland 1563–1626

Henry Lawes 1595–1622

Fine Knacks for Ladies

Anonymous

Come Again: Sweet Love Doth Now Invite

Anonymous

In Darkness Let Me Dwell

Anonymous

Flow My Tears

Anonymous

The Rose (Go Lovely Rose)

Edmund Waller and Henry Kirke White

Inconstancie in Woman (I Am Confirm’d A Woman Can)

Sir John Suckling, Jr.

Love Despis’d (In Love? Away, You Do Me Wrong)

Anonymous

Ian Tuski, guitar

Franz Joseph Haydn Mit Würd und Hoheit angetan, 1732–1809 from Die Schöpfung

Recitative: Gefesselt steht der breite See from Die Jahreszeiten

Barthold Heinrich Brockes

Barthold Heinrich Brockes

As a courtesy to the performers and audience, silence electronic devices.

Please do not leave the hall during selections. Photography or recording of any kind is prohibited.

Gene Stenger, tenor

Haydn

Aria: Hier steht der Wand’rer nun from Die Jahreszeiten

Jean-Philippe Rameau Fatal amour, from Pygmalion 1683–1764

Stefano Donaudy 1879–1925

Barthold Heinrich Brockes

Ballot de Sauvot

Règne Amour, from Pygmalion

Ballot de Sauvot

Spirate pur, spirate, from 36 Arie di Stile Antico

Alberto Donaudy

O del mio amato ben, from 36 Arie di Stile Antico

Alberto Donaudy

Francesco Paolo Tosti La Serenata 1846–1916 Malìa

L’alba sepàra dalla luce l’ombra, from Quattro canzoni d’Amaranta

Alfredo Cesareo

Emanuele Pagliara

Gabriele d’Annunzio

Texts & Translations

john dowland Fine Knacks for Ladies Anonymous Fine knacks for ladies, cheap choice brave and new, Good pennyworths but money cannot move, I keep a fair but for the fair to view, A beggar may be liberal of love, Though all my wares be trash the heart is true.

Great gifts are guiles and look for gifts again, My trifles come, as treasures from my mind, It is a precious jewel to be plain, Sometimes in shell the Orient’s pearls we find, Of others take a sheaf, of me a grain.

Within this pack pins points laces and gloves, And diverse toys fitting a country fair, But in my heart where duty serves and loves, Turtles and twins, Court’s brood, a heavenly pair, Happy the heart that thinks of no removes.

john dowland Come Again: Sweet Love Doth Now Invite Anonymous 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.

Gentle Love, Draw forth thy wounding dart, Thou canst not pierce my heart, For I that to approve, By sighs and tears more hot than are thy shafts, Did tempt, while she for triumph laughs.

john dowland In Darkness Let Me Dwell Anonymous 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 moisten’d still shall weep, My music hellish jarring sounds to banish friendly sleep.

Thus wedded to my woes, and bedded to my tomb, O, let me, living, living, die, till death do come.

In darkness let me dwell.

john dowland Flow My Tears Anonymous Flow my tears fall from your springs, Exil’d for ever: let me mourn: Where night’s black bird her sad infamy sings, There let me live forlorn.

Down vain lights shine you no more, No nights are dark enough for those That in despair their last fortunes deplore, Light doth but shame disclose.

Never may my woes be relieved, Since pity is fled, And tears, and sighs, and groans my weary days Of all joys have deprived.

Texts & Translations

From the highest spire of contentment, My fortune is thrown, And fear, and grief, and pain for my deserts Are my hopes since hope is gone.

henry lawes

Hark you shadows that in darkness dwell, Learn to contemn light, Happy, happy they that in hell Feel not the world’s despite.

I am confirm’d a woman can Love this, or that, or any man; This day her love is melting hot, Tomorrow swears she knows you not; Let her but a new object find, And she is of another mind.

Then hang me, Ladies, at your door, If e’er I dote upon you more.

henry lawes The Rose (Go, Lovely Rose) Text by Edmund Waller and Henry Kirke White Go, Lovely Rose, Tell her that wastes her time and me, That now she knows, When I resemble her to thee, How sweet and fair she seems to be.

Tell her that’s young, And shuns to have her graces spied That hadst thou sprung In deserts, where no men abide, Thou must have uncommended died.

Small is the worth Of beauty from the light retired; Bid her come forth, Suffer herself to be desired, And blush not so to be admired.

Then die that she, The common fate of all things rare May read in thee, How small a part of time they share That are so wondrous sweet and fair!

Inconstancie in Woman (I Am Confirm’d A Woman Can) Text by John Suckling, Sir

Yet still I’ll love the fair one, why?

For nothing but to please mine eye; And so the fat and soft skin’d dame, I’ll flatter to appease my flame; For her that’s musical I long, When I am sad to sing a song.

But hang me, Ladies, at your door, If e’er I dote upon you more.

I’ll give my fancy leave to range Thro’ ev’ry face to find out change; The black, the brown, the fair shall be, But objects of variety; I’ll court you all to serve my turn, But with such flames as shall not burn.

For hang me, Ladies, at your door, If e’er I dote upon you more.

Texts & Translations henry lawes Love Despis’d (In Love? Away, You Do Me Wrong) Anonymous In Love? Away, you do me wrong, I hope I have not lived to long, Free from the treachery of your eyes, Now to be caught and made a prize: No, Lady, ‘tis not all your Art Can make me and my freedom part.

In Love! ‘Tis true, with Spanish wine, Or the French juice Incarnadine, But truly not with your sweet face, This dimple, or that hidden grace: There’s far more sweetness in pure wine, Then in those lips or eyes of thine.

Your god you say can shoot so right, He’ll wound a heart in darkest night, Pray let him throw away a dart, And try if he can hit my heart: No, Cupid, if I shall be thine, Turn Ganimed, and fill us wine.

Come fill us a cup of Sherry, And let us be merry, There shall nought but pure wine, Make us love-sick or pine; We’ll hug the cup and kiss it, We’ll sigh when e’re we miss it, For ‘tis that that makes us jolly, And sing High trolly lolly!

Texts & Translations franz joseph haydn Mit Würd und Hoheit angetan, from Die Schöpfung Text by Barthold Heinrich Brockes Translation by Bard Suverkrop Uriel: Mit Würd’ und Hoheit angetan, Mit Schönheit, Stärk’, und Mut begabt, Gen Himmel aufgerichtet steht der Mensch, Ein Mann und König der Natur.

Die breit gewölbt’ erhab’ne Stirn Verkünd’t der Weisheit tiefen Sinn, Und aus dem hellen blicke strahlt Der Geist, des Schöpfers Hauch und Ebenbild.

An seinen Busen schmieget sich Für ihn, aus ihm geformt, Die Gattin, hold und anmutsvoll.

In froher Unschuld lächelt sie, Des Frühlings reizend Bild, Ihm Liebe, Glück, und Wonne zu.

With majesty and dignity attired, With beauty, strength, and courage endowed, Heavenward stands man erect, A man and King of nature.

The broad arching solemn brow Proclaims a deep mind of wisdom, And from the bright gaze shines The spirit, the breath and image of the Creator.

Against his breast nestles, Created for him, and from him, The wife, lovely and graceful.

In happy innocence she smiles, The charming image of spring, His love, happiness, and joy upon.

franz joseph haydn Gefesselt steht der breite See, and Hier steht der Wand’rer nun, from Die Jahreszeiten Text by Barthold Heinrich Brockes Translation by Bard Suverkrop Lukas: Gefesselt steht der breite See, Gehemt in seinem Laufe der Strom.

Im Sturze vom türmenden Felsen hängt Gestockt und stumm der Wasserfall.

Im dürren Haine tönt kein Laut; Die Felder deckt, die Täler füllt Ein’ ungeheure Flockenlast.

Der Erde Bild ist nun ein Grab, Wo Kraft und Reiz erstorben liegt, Wo Leichenfarbe traurig herrscht, Und wo dem Blicke weit umher Nur öde Wüstenei sich zeigt.

The broad lake stands constrained, The river is restricted in its course.

In its plunge from the towering cliffs The waterfall hangs frozen and silent.

No sound is heard from the barren grove; Covering field and filling valley Is the enormous flakey weight.

Earth’s image is now a grave, Where strength and charm dead lie, Where a corpse-colored sadness lies, And where to gaze near and far Only a desolate wasteland is seen.

Texts & Translations

Hier steht der Wand’rer nun, Verwirrt und zweifelhaft, Wohin den Schritt er lenken soll.

Vergebens suchet er den Weg; Ihn leitet weder Pfad noch Spur.

Vergebens strenget er sich an Und watet durch den tiefen Schnee; Er find’t sich immer mehr verirrt.

Jetzt sinket ihm der Mut, Und Angst beklemmt sein Herz, Da er den Tag sich neigen sieht, Und Müdigkeit und Frost Ihm alle Glieder lähmt.

Doch plötzlich trifft sein spähend Aug’ Der Schimmer eines nahen Lichts.

Da lebt er wieder auf; Vor Freuden pocht sein Herz.

Er geht, er eilt der Hütte zu, Wo starr und matt er Labung hofft.

Here stands the traveler now, Confused and doubtful, Whither he should turn his step.

He seeks his way in vain; For no path or track leads him.

In vain he struggles forth And wades through the deep snow; He finds himself always more lost.

Now his courage falters, And fear oppresses his heart, Then he sees the day itself set, And weariness and frost In him all limbs paralyze.

But suddenly meets his peering eye The glimmer of a near light.

He is then revived; His heart beats for joy.

He goes on and hurries to the cottage, Where, stiff and weary, refreshment awaits him.

jean-philippe rameau Fatal Amour, from Pygmalion Libretto by Ballot de Sauvot, based on the myth of Pygmalion as told in Ovid’s Metamorphoses Pygmalion: Fatal Amour, cruel vainqueur, Quels traits as-tu choisis pour me percer le coeur?

Je tremblais de t’avoir pour maître.

J’ai craint d’être sensible, il falloit m’en punir; Mais devais-je le devenir Pour un objet qui ne peut l’être?

Fatal Amour, cruel vainqueur, Fatal Amour, cruel vainqueur, Quels traits as-tu choisis pour me percer le coeur?

Insensible témoin du trouble qui m’accable, Se peut-il que tu sois l’ouvrage de ma main?

Est-ce donc pour gémir et soupirer en vain Is it Que mon art a produit ton image adorable?

Fatal Amour, cruel vainqueur, Quels traits as-tu choisis pour me?

All-powerful Love, cruel conqueror, What darts have you chosen to pierce my heart?

I trembled to have you as a master.

I feared being sensible, and deserved punishment; But did I have to fall in love With an object incapable of feeling?

All-powerful Love, cruel conqueror, All-powerful Love, cruel conqueror, What darts have you chosen to pierce my heart?

Unfeeling witness of the pain that afflicts me, Can you really be the work of my own hand? only to moan and sigh in vain That my art has created your lovely face?

All-powerful Love, cruel conqueror, What darts have you chosen to pierce my heart?

Texts & Translations

jean-philippe rameau Règne Amour, from Pygmalion Libretto by Ballot de Sauvot, based on the myth of Pygmalion as told in Ovid’s Metamorphoses Pygmalion: Règne, Amour, fais briller tes flames.

Lance tes traits dans nos âmes.

Sur des coeurs soumis à tes lois Épuise ton carquois.

Tu nous fais, dieu charmant, Le plus heureux destin.

Je tiens de toi l’objet dont mon âme est ravie, Et cet objet si cher respire, tient la vie Des feux de ton flambeau divin.

Reign, Love, may your flame sparkle.

Fire all your arrows in our souls.

On hearts true to your commands Empty your quiver.

You prepare for us, charming god, The happiest of fates.

I have from you the object of my heart’s desire, And this dear creature breathes, and enjoys life Thanks to the spark of your divine flame.

stefano donaudy Spirate pur, spirate, from 36 Arie di Stile Antico Text by Alberto Donaudy Spirate pur, spirate attorno a lo mio bene, Aurette, e v’accertate S’ella nel cor mi tiene.

Spirate, spirate pur, aurette!

Se nel suo cor mi tiene, v’accertate, Aure beate, aure lievi e beate!

Blow, then, blow about my beloved, Breezes, and ascertain If she holds me dear in her heart.

Blow, blow then, breezes!

If in her heart she holds me, ascertain, Breezes blessed, breezes light and blessed!

stefano donaudy O del mio amato ben, from 36 Arie di Stile Antico Text by Alberto Donaudy O del mio amato ben perduto incanto!

Lungi è dagli occhi miei Chi m’era gloria e vanto!

Or per le mute stanze Sempre la cerco e chiamo Con pieno il cor di speranze.

Ma cerco invan, chiamo invan!

E il pianger m’è si caro,

Oh, the lost enchantment of my dearly beloved! Far from my sight is The one who was my glory and my pride!

Now through the silent rooms I always seek her and call With a heart filled with hope.

But I seek in vain, I call in vain!

And yet my weeping is dear to me,

Texts & Translations

Che di pianto sol nutro il cor.

Mi sembra, senza lei, triste ogni loco.

Notte mi sembra il giorno; Mi sembra gelo il foco.

Se pur talvolta spero Di darmi ad altra cura, Sol mi tormenta un pensiero: Ma, senza lei, che faro?

Mi par così la vita vana cosa Senza il mio ben.

Since I nourish my heart with tears alone.

Everywhere seems sad without her.

Day seems as night to me; Fire seems cold to me.

However, if sometimes I hope To give myself to another, I am tormented by one thought: But, without her, what would I do?

To me life seems so empty Without my beloved.

francesco paolo tosti La Serenata Text by Giovanni Alfredo Cesareo Vola, O serenata: La mia diletta è sola, E, con la bella testa abbandonata, Posa tra le lenzuola: O serenata, vola.

Fly, o serenade!

My beloved is alone, And with her lovely head lying back, Is resting between her sheets O serenade, fly to her.

Splende pura la luna, L’ale il silenzio stende, E dietro i veli dell’alcova bruna La lampada s’accende.

Pura la luna splende.

Vola, o serenata, vola. Ah! Là.

Shines, pure the moon, Silence spreads its wings, And behind the veils of the dark alcove The lamp is lit.

Purely the moon shines.

Fly, o serenade, fly. Ah! La.

Vola, o serenata: La mia diletta è sola, Ma sorri dendo ancor mezzo assonnata, Torna fra le lenzuola: O serenata, vola.

Fly, o serenade!

My beloved is alone, But smiling and still half asleep, She returns between her sheets: serenade, fly to her.

L’onda sogna su’l lido, E’l vento su la fronda; E a` baci miei ricusa ancora un nido La mia signora bionda.

Sogna su’l lido l’onda.

Vola, o serenta, vola. Ah! Là.

The wave dreams on the shore, And the wind in the branches; And still declines to shelter my kisses My fair lady.

The wave dreams on the shore.

Fly, o serenade, fly. Ah! La.

Texts & Translations

francesco paolo tosti Malìa (Enchantment/Spell) Text by: Rocco Emanuele Pagliara Cosa c’era ne’l fior che m’hai dato?

Forse un filtro, un arcano poter!

Ne’l toccarlo’l mio core ha tremato, M’ha l’olezzo turbato’l pensier.

Ne le vaghe movenze, che ci hai?

Un incanto vien forse con te?

Freme l’aria per dove tu vai, Spunta un fiore ove passa’l tuo piè.

What was in the flower you gave me?

Perhaps a potion, a mysterious power!

My heart trembled when I touched it, Its perfume troubled my mind.

What is there in your lovely movement?

Did you perhaps enchant me?

The air vibrates wherever you go, The flowers bloom in your footsteps.

Io non chiedo qual plaga beata Fino adesso soggiorno ti fu: Non ti chiedo se Ninfa, se Fata, Se una biona parvenza sei tu!

Ma che c’è ne’l tuo sguardo fatale?

Cosa ci hai ne’l tuo magico dir?

Se mi guardi, un’ebbrezza m’assale, Se mi parli, mi sento morir!

I do not ask in what region blessed You have lived until now: I do not ask if you are a nymph, a fairy, Or a blonde apparition!

But what is there in your fatal glance?

What is there in the magical sound of your voice?

When you look at me, joy overwhelms me, When you speak to me, it’s as if I’m dying!

francesco paolo tosti L’alba sepàra dalla luce l’ombra from Quattro canzoni d’Amaranta Text by Gabriele d’Annunzio

L’alba sepàra dalla luce l’ombra , E la mia voluttà dal mio desire.

O dolci stelle, è l’ora di morire.

Un più divino amor dal ciel vi sgombra.

The dawn divides the darkness from the light.

And my sensual pleasure from my desire.

Oh sweet stars, it is the hour to die.

A more divine love takes you from the sky.

Pupille ardenti, o voi senza ritorno, Stelle tristi, spegnetevi incorrotte!

Morir debbo. Veder non voglio il giorno, Per amor del mio sogno e della notte.

Passionate eyes, you that will come no more, Sad stars, you will be extinguished uncorrupted!

I must die, I do not wish to see the day, For love of my dream and of the night.

Chiudimi, o Notte, nel tuo sen materno, Mentre la terra pallida s’irrora.

Ma che dal sangue mio nasca l’aurora E dal sogno mio breve il sole eterno!

Enfold me, o night in your maternal bosom, While the pale earth covers itself in dew.

But let the dawn be born from my blood And the eternal sun from my brief dream!

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Robert Blocker, Dean