Robert Blocker, Dean April 29, 2021 6 pm | Great Hall in Sterling Divinity Quadrangle
master of musical arts degree recital
Patrick McGill tenor Early music
Tomoko Nakayama piano and harpsichord Henry Purcell 1659–1695
Job’s Curse, Z. 191
Jeremy Taylor
Henri Duparc 1848–1933
Phidylé (1882) Extase (1874)
Charles-Marie-Rene Leconte de Lisle Henri Cazalis
Chanson triste (1868)
Cazalis
Quattro canzoni d'Amaranta (1907) I. Lasciami! Lascia ch'io respiri, lascia II. L'alba sepàra dalla luce l'ombra III. In van preghi, in vano aneli IV. Che dici, o parola del Saggio?
Gabriele d'Annunzio
Francesco Paolo Tosti 1846–1916
intermission Franz Schubert 1797–1828
Der Musensohn, D. 764 Am tage Allerseelen, D. 343 An den Mond, D. 193 Die Forelle, D. 550
Benjamin Britten 1913–1976
Johann Wolfgang von Goethe Johann Georg Jacobi Ludwig Heinrich Christoph Hölty Christian Friedrich Daniel Schubart
The Brisk Young Widow (1959)
Cecil Sharp
Little Sir William (1940)
Traditional English
The Crocodile (1941)
Traditional English
This performance is in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the master of musical arts degree.
Recital Texts and Translations Job’s Curse - Henry Purcell - Text by Jeremiah Taylor
Let the night perish; cursed be the morn Wherein 'twas said: there is a man-child born! Let not the Lord regard that day, but shroud Its fatal glory in some sullen cloud. May the dark shades of an eternal night Exclude the least kind beam of dawning light; Let unborn babes, as in the womb they lie, If it be mentioned, give a groan, and die. No sounds of joy therein shall charm the ear, No sun, no moon, no twilight stars appear But a thick veil of gloomy darkness wear. Why did I not, when first my mother's womb Discharg'd me thence, drop down into my tomb? Then had I been as quiet, and mine eyes Had slept, and seen no sorrow; there the wise And subtle counsellor, the potentate, Who for themselves built palaces of state, Lie hush'd in silence; there's no midnight cry Caus'd by oppression and the tyranny Of wicked rulers; there the weary cease From labour, there the pris'ner sleeps in peace; The rich, the poor, the monarch and the slave Rest undisturb'd and no distinction have Within the silent chambers of the grave.
Phydilé - Henri Duparc
Text - Charles-Marie-René Leconte de Lisle
L'herbe est molle au sommeil sous les frais peupliers,
The grass is soft for sleep beneath the cool poplars
Aux pentes des sources moussues,
On the banks of the mossy springs
Qui, dans les prés en fleur germant par mille issues,
That flow in flowering meadows from a thousand sources,
Se perdent sous les noirs halliers.
And vanish beneath dark thickets.
Repose, ô Phidylé! Midi sur les feuillages
Rest, O Phidylé! Noon on the leaves
Rayonne, et t'invite au sommeil.
Is gleaming, inviting you to sleep.
Par le trèfle et le thym, seules, en plein soleil,
By the clover and thyme, alone, in the bright sunlight,
Chantent les abeilles volages. The fickle bees are humming. Un chaud parfum circule au détour des sentiers,
A warm fragrance floats about the winding paths,
La rouge fleur des blés s'incline, The red flowers of the cornfield droop; Et les oiseaux, rasant de l'aile la colline, Cherchent l'ombre des églantiers. Mais, quand l'Astre, incliné sur sa courbe éclatante,
And the birds, skimming the hillside with their wings, Seek the shade of the eglantine. But when the sun, low on its dazzling curve,
Verra ses ardeurs s'apaiser, Sees its brilliance wane, Que ton plus beau sourire et ton meilleur baiser
Let your loveliest smile and finest kiss
Me récompensent de l'attente!
Reward me to for my waiting!
French Translations © Richard Stokes, from A French Song Companion (Oxford, 2000)
Extase - Henri Duparc Sur un lys pâle mon cœur dort D’un sommeil doux comme la mort Mort exquise, mort parfumée Du souffle de la bien-aimée … Sur ton sein pâle mon cœur dort D’un sommeil doux comme la mort
Text - Jean Lahor On a pale lily my heart is sleeping A sleep as sweet as death: Exquisite death, death perfumed By the breath of the beloved: On your pale breast my heart is sleeping… A sleep as sweet as death
Chanson Triste - Henri Duparc Dans ton cœur dort un clair de lune, Un doux clair de lune d’été, Et pour fuir la vie importune, Je me noierai dans ta clarté. J’oublierai les douleurs passées, Mon amour, quand tu berceras Mon triste cœur et mes pensées Dans le calme aimant de tes bras. Tu prendras ma tête malade, Oh! quelquefois sur tes genoux, Et lui diras une ballade Qui semblera parler de nous; Et dans tes yeux pleins de tristesses, Dans tes yeux alors je boirai Tant de baisers et de tendresses que peut-être je guérirai.
Moonlight slumbers in your heart, A gentle summer moonlight, And to escape the cares of life I shall drown myself in your light. I shall forget past sorrows, My sweet, when you cradle My sad heart and my thoughts In the loving calm of your arms. You will rest my poor head, Ah! sometimes on your lap, And recite to it a ballad That will seem to speak of us; And from your eyes full of sorrow, From your eyes I shall then drink So many kisses and so much love that perhaps I shall be healed.
Quattro Canzoni D’Amaranta Francesco Paolo Tosti
Text - Gabriele d’Annunzio
1) Lasciami! Lascia ch’io respiri Lasciami! Lascia ch’io respiri, lascia ch’io mi sollevi! Ho il gelo nelle vene. Ho tremato. Ho nel cor non so che ambascia... Ahimè, Signore, è il giorno! Il giorno viene! Ch’io non lo veda! Premi la tua bocca Su’ miei cigli, il tuo cuore sul mio cuore! Tutta l’erba s’insànguina d’amore. La vita se ne va, quando trabocca. Trafitta muoio, e non dalla tua spada. Mi si vuota il mio petto, e senza schianto. Non è sangue? Ahi, Signore, è la rugiada! L’alba piange su me tutto il suo pianto. 2) L’alba separa dalla luce l’ombra
Leave me! Let me breathe. Let me rise! My veins are frozen. I trembled. In my heart there is some unknown distress. Alas, Lord, it is day; the day is dawning! Don’t let me see him! Press your mouth on my eyes, your heart on my heart! The grass is bloodstained with love. Life ends when it is at its height. I die, pierced, but not by your sword. My heart is emptying, but there is no wound. Is it not blood? Oh, my Lord, it is the dew! Dawn is shedding all its tears on me.
L’alba separa dalla luce l’ombra e la mia voluttà dal mio desire.
Dawn divides the light from the shadows, and my sensual pleasure from desire.
O dolce stelle, è l’ora di morire.
O sweet stars, it is time to die.
Un più divino amor dal ciel vi sgombra.
A love more divine sweeps you from the skies.
Pupille ardenti, o voi senza ritorno stelle tristi, spegnetevi incorrotte!
Gleaming eyes, o you who’ll ne’er return, sad stars, snuff out your uncorrupted light!
Morir debbo. Veder non voglio il giorno, Per amor del mio sogno e della notte.
I must die. I do not want to see the day, for love of my own dream and of the night.
Chiudimi, o Notte, nel tuo sen materno, Mentre la terra pallida s’irrora.
Envelop me, o night in your maternal breast, while the pale earth bathes itself in dew;
Ma che dal sangue mio nasca l’aurora E dal sogno mio breve il sole eterno!
But let the dawn rise from my blood and from my brief dream the eternal sun!
3) In van preghi In van preghi, in vano aneli, In van mostri il cuore infranto. Sono forse umidi i cieli Perché noi abbiamo pianto?
You beg in vain, you yearn in vain, in vain you show your broken heart. Are the heavens soaked with our tears?
Il dolor nostro è senz’ala. Non ha volo il grido imbelle. Piangi e prega! Qual dio cala Pel cammino delle stelle?
Our grief is fixed. The cowardly cry remains. Weep and beg! Which is the god who comes down on the path of the stars?
Abbandónati alla polve E su lei prono ti giaci. La supina madre assolve D’ogni colpa chi la baci. In un Ade senza dio dormi quanto puoi profondo. Tutto è sogno, tutto è oblìo: L’asfodèlo è il fior del Mondo.
Give yourself up to the dust and lie there prone. The mother earth absolves from their sins all those who kiss her. Sleep deeply in a godless Hades. All is a dream, all is oblivion: the asphodel is the flower of the world.
4) Che dici, o parola del Saggio? Che dici, o parola del Saggio? ‘Conviene che l’anima lieve,
What do the words of the wiseman say
Sorella del vento selvaggio, Trascorra le fonti ove beve.’ Io so che il van pianto mi guasta Le ciglia dall’ombra sì lunga… O Vita, e una lacrima basta a spegner la face consunta! Ben so che nell’ansia mortale si sfa la mia bocca riarsa… E un alito, o Vita, mi vale a sperder la cenere scarsa!
‘The soul, sister of the wild wind, must pass the source where it would drink.’ I know that my useless weeping has spoilt my long shady lashes... Oh Life, one tear is enough to put out this weak flame. I know that my parched lips are broken with mortal anguish... and one single breath, oh Life would scatter the few ashes.
Tu dici: ‘Alza il capo; raccogli Con grazia i capelli in un nodo; E sopra le rose che sfogli Ridendo va incontro all’Ignoto.
You say to me, ‘Lift your head gracefully, coil your hair in a knot; and laughing, with the roses you pluck, go to meet the unknown.
L’amante dagli occhi di sfinge Mutevole, a cui sei promessa, Ha nome Domani; e ti cinge Con una ghirlanda più fresca.’
The lover you are promised to, with his mysterious, changing eyes, is called Tomorrow; and he twines a fresher garland around you.’
M’attende: lo so. Ma il datore di gioia non ha più ghirlande: Ha dato il cipresso all’Amore e il mirto a Colei ch’è più grande.Il mirto alla Morte che odo Rombar sul mio capo sconvolto. Non tremo. I capelli in un nodo Segreto per sempre ho raccolto.
Ho terso con ambe le mani L’estreme tue lacrime, o Vita. L’amante che ha nome Domani M’attende nell’ombra infinita.
He is waiting for me, I know. But the Giver of joy has no more garlands: he has given the cypress to Love and the myrtle to someone greater, to Death, which I can hear thundering around my ravaged head. I do not tremble. I have coiled my hair into a secret, eternal knot. With both hands I have wiped away your last tears forever, oh Life.The lover called Tomorrow is waiting for me in the endless darkness.
Der musensohn - Schubert Durch Feld und Wald zu schweifen, mein Liedchen weg zu pfeifen, so geht’s von Ort zu Ort! Und nach dem Takte reget, und nach dem Mass beweget sich alles an mir fort. Ich kann sie kaum erwarten, die erste Blum’ im Garten, die erste Blüt’ am Baum. Sie grüssen meine Lieder, und kommt der Winter wieder, sing’ ich noch jenen Traum. Ich sing’ ihn in der Weite, auf Eises Läng’ und Breite, da blüht der Winter schön! Auch diese Blüte schwindet, und neue Freude findet sich auf bebauten Höhn. Denn wie ich bei der Linde das junge Völkchen finde, sogleich erreg’ ich sie. Der stumpfe Bursche bläht sich, das steife Mädchen dreht sich nach meiner Melodie. Ihr gebt den Sohlen Flügel und treibt, durch Tal und Hügel, den Liebling weit von Haus. Ihr lieben, holden Musen, wann ruh’ ich ihr am Busen auch endlich wieder aus?
Am tage allerseelen - Schubert Ruhn in Frieden alle Seelen, die vollbracht ein banges Quälen, die vollendet süssen Traum, lebenssatt, geboren kaum, aus der Welt hinüber schieden: Alle Seelen ruhn in Frieden! Die sich hier gespielen suchten. Öfter weinten nimmer fluchten. Keiner je den druck verstand. Alle die von hinnen schieden: Alle Seelen ruhn in Frieden! Und die nie der sonne lachten, unterm mond auf dornen wachten. Gott, im reinen himmelslicht, einst zu sehn von angesicht. Alle die von hinnen schieden: Alle Seelen ruhn in Frieden!
Text - Johann Wolfgang von Goethe Roaming through field and wood, whistling my song, thus I go from place to place! And all keep time with me, and all move in measure with me. I can scarcely wait for them, the first flower in the garden, the first blossom on the tree. They greet my songs, and when winter returns I am still singing my dream of them. I sing it far and wide, the length and breadth of the ice. Then winter blooms in beauty! This blossom, too, vanishes, and new joys are found on the cultivated hillsides. For when, by the linden tree, I come upon young folk, I at once stir them. The dull lad puffs himself up, the demure girl whirls in time to my tune. You give my feet wings,and drive your favourite over hill and dale, far from home. Dear, gracious Muses, when shall I at last find rest again on her bosom?
Text - Johann Jacobi May all souls rest in peace; those whose fearful torment is past; those whose sweet dreams are over; those sated with life, those barely born, who have left this world: may all souls rest in peace! Those who only sought for comradeship here, who more often wept but never fled when no one was there to press their faithful hand with an understanding look: may all who have parted from here, may all souls rest in peace! And those who never smiled at the sun, who lay awake beneath the moon on beds of thorns, so that they might one day see God face to face in the pure light of heaven: may all who have departed hence, may all souls rest in peace!
Und die gern im Rosengarten, bei dem freudenbecher harten. Aber dann, zur bösen Zeit, schmeckten seine bitterkeit. Alle die von hinnen schieden: Alle Seelen ruhn in Frieden!
And those happy ones in the rose garden tarrying with their joyous cups, but then, in one horrible moment, tasting the bitter dregs at last: may all who have parted from here, may all souls rest in peace!
An den Mond - Schubert
Text - Ludwig Christoph Heinrich Hölty
Geuss, lieber Mond, geuss deine Silberflimmer durch dieses Buchengrün, wo Phantasien und Traumgestalten immer vor mir vorüberfliehn.
Beloved moon, shed your silver radiance through these green beeches, where fancies and dreamlike images forever flit before me.
Enthülle dich, dass ich die Stätte finde, wo oft mein Mädchen sass, und oft, im Wehn des Buchbaums und der Linde, der goldnen Stadt vergass.
Unveil yourself, that I may find the spot where my beloved sat, where often, in the swaying branches of the beech and lime, she forgot the gilded town.
Enthülle dich, dass ich des Strauchs mich freue, der Kühlung ihr gerauscht, und einen Kranz auf jeden Anger streue, wo sie den Bach belauscht.
Unveil yourself, that I may delight in the whispering bushes that cooled her, and lay a wreath on that meadow where she listened to the brook.
Dann, lieber Mond, dann nimm den Schleier wieder, und traur um deinen Freund, und weine durch den Wolkenflor hernieder, wie dein Verlassner weint!
Then, beloved moon, take your veil once more, and mourn for your friend. Weep down through the hazy clouds, as the one you have forsaken weeps.
Die Forelle - Schubert
Text - Christian Schubart
In einem Bächlein helle,da schoß in froher Eil' die launische Forelle vorüber wie ein Pfeil. Ich stand an dem Gestade und sah in süßer Ruh des muntern Fischleins Bade Im klaren Bächlein zu.
In a limpid brook the capricious trout in joyous haste darted by like an arrow. I stood on the bank in blissful peace, watching the lively fish swim in the clear brook.
Ein Fischer mit der Rute wohl an dem Ufer stand, und sah's mit kaltem Blute, wie sich das Fischlein wand. So lang dem Wasser Helle, so dacht ich, nicht gebricht, so fängt er die Forelle mit seiner Angel nicht. Doch endlich ward dem Diebe die Zeit zu lang. Er macht das Bächlein tückisch trübe, und eh ich es gedacht, so zuckte seine Rute, das Fischlein zappelt dran, und ich mit regem Blute sah die Betrogene an.
An angler with his rod stood on the bank cold-bloodedly watching the fish’s contortions. As long as the water is clear, I thought, he won’t catch the trout with his rod. But at length the thief grew impatient. Cunningly he made the brook cloudy, and in an instant his rod quivered, and the fish struggled on it. And I, my blood boiling, looked on at the cheated creature.
The brisk young widow Benjamin Britten In Chester town there liv'd A brisk young widow. For beauty and fine clothes None could excel her. She was proper stout and tall, Her fingers long and small, She's a comely dame withall, She's a brisk young widow. A lover soon there came, A brisk young farmer, With his hat turn'd up all round, Seeking to gain her. "My dear, for love of you This wide world I'd go through If you will but prove true You shall wed a farmer." Says she: "I'm not for you Nor no such fellow. I'm for a lively lad With lands and riches, 'Tis not your hogs and yowes Can maintain furbelows, My silk and satin clothes Are all my glory". "O madam, don't be coy For all your glory, For fear of another day And another story. If the world on you should frown Your top-knot must come down To a Lindsey-woolsey gown. Where is then your glory?" At last there came that way A sooty collier,
With his hat bent down all round, And soon he did gain her: Whereat the farmer swore, "The widow's mazed, I'm sure. I'll never court no more A brisk young widow!"
Little sir William - Benjamin Britten Easter day was a holiday of all the days in the year, and all the little schoolfellows went out to play but Sir
Go home, go home my mother dear, and prepare my winding sheet, for tomorrow morning before eight o'clock, you with my body shall meet.
William was not there. And lay my prayer book at my head, and Mamma went to the School Wife House and knocked at the ring, saying, "Little Sir William if you are there, pray let your mother in."
The School Wife open'd the door and said "He is not here today. He is with the little schoolfellows out on the green playing some pretty play."
Mamma went to the Boyne water that is so wide and deep, saying, Little Sir William if you are there, oh pity your mother's weep."
"How can I pity your weep, mother and I so long in pain? For the little penknife sticks close to my heart and the School Wife hath me slain.
my grammar at my feet, that all the little schoolfellows as they pass by may read them for my sake."
The Crocodile - Benjamin
could see his face; and when he lifted
Britten
up his jaw though perhaps you may think ’tis a lie, he reached above the
Now listen you landsmen unto me, to tell you the truth I’m bound, what happened
clouds for miles three score, and almost touched the sky.
to me by going to sea, and the wonders that I found: Shipwrecked I was once off Perouse, and cast upon the shore, so
While up aloft the wind was high, it blew
then I did resolve to roam, the country to
a gale from the south. I lost my hold and
explore.
away did fly right into the crocodile’s mouth. He quickly closed his jaws on me, and thought he’d got a victim, but I
To my rit fal lal li bollem tit! To my rit fal lal li dee!
ran down his throat, d’ye see? And that’s the way I tricked him.
To my rit fal lal li bollem tit! To my rit fal lal li dee! I travelled on for a month or two, till I got into his maw, where I found of rum-kegs ’Twas far I had not scouted out when
not a few, and a thousand fat bullocks in
close alongside the ocean I saw
store. Of life I banished all my care, for
something move which at first I thought
of food I was not stinted, and in this
was all the world in motion; But steering
crocodile I lived ten years and very well
up close alongside I found ’twas a
contented.
crocodile; and from his nose to the tip of his tail he measured five hundred mile. This crocodile being very old, one day, alas he died. He was ten long years ’Twas a crocodile, I plainly could see he
a-getting cold, he was so long and wide.
was not of a common race, for I was
His skin was eight miles thick, I’m sure,
obliged to climb a high tree before I
or very near about, for I was full ten years or more a-cutting my way out.
And now I am once more got on earth I’ve vowed no more to roam, in a ship that passed I got a berth, and now I’m safe at home. And if my story you should doubt, should you ever travel the Nile, it’s ten to one you’ll find the shell of the wonderful crocodile.