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Ariadane's Lamentation - A Plaint for Voice and Lute
Ariadne sitting upon a rock in the island Naxos, deserted by Theseus, thus complains.
Theseus, O Theseus, hark! but yet in vain,
Alas, forsaken I complain:
It was some neighb’ring rock, more soft than he,
Whose hollow bowels pitied me,
And beating back that false and cruel name,
Did comfort and revenge my flame.
Then faithless whither wilt thou fly?
Stones dare not harbour cruelty!
Tell me, ye gods, who e’er ye are,
Why, O why, made ye him so fair?
And tell me wretch, why thou
Mad’st not thyself more true?
Beauty from him might copies take,
And more majestic heroes make,
And falsehood learn a wile
From him too, to beguile:
Restore my clew,
’Tis here most due,
For ’tis a lab’rinth of more subtle art
To have so fair a face, so foul a heart.
The rav’nous vulture tear his breast,
The rolling stone disturb his rest;
Let him next feel
Ixion’s wheel,
And add one fable more
To cursing poets’ store.
And then–– yet rather let him live, and twine
His woof of days with some thread stol’n from mine.
But if you’ll torture him, howe’er:
Torture my heart, you’ll find him there.
Till mine eyes drank up his,
And his drank mine,
I ne’er thought souls might kiss,
And spirits join.
Pictures till then
Took me as much as men:
Nature and art
Moving alike my heart.
But his fair visage made me find
Pleasures and fears,
Hopes, sighs, and tears,
As several seasons of the mind.
Should thine eye, Venus, on his dwell,
Thou wouldst invite him to thy shell,
And, caught by that live jet,
Venture the second net:
And after all thy dangers faithless he,
Shouldst thou but slumber, would forsake ev’n thee!
The streams so court the yielding banks,
And gliding thence ne’er pay their thanks;
The winds so woo the flowers,
Whisp’ring among fresh bowers,
And having robbed them of their smells,
Fly thence perfumed to other cells.
This is familiar hate, to smile, and kill:
Though nothing please thee, yet my ruin will.
Death hover, hover o’er me then;
Waves let your crystal womb
Be both my fate and tomb:
I’ll sooner trust the sea than men.
Yet for revenge to heav’n I’ll call,
And breathe one curse before I fall.
Proud of two conquests, minotaur and me –
That by my faith, this by thy perjury –
May’st thou forget to wing thy ships with white,
That the black sails may to the longing sight
Of thy grey father tell thy fate, and he
Bequeath that sea his name, falling like me.
Nature and love thus brand thee, whilst I die
’Cause thou forsak’st, Aegeus ’cause thou draw’st nigh.
And ye, O nymphs, below who sit,
In whose swift floods his vows he writ,
Snatch a sharp diamond from your richer mines,
And in some mirror grave these sadder lines,
Which let some god convey
To him, that so he may
In that both read at once, and see,
Those looks that caused my destiny.
Thus then I f–– but look: O mine eyes,
Be now true spies;
Yonder, yonder
Comes my dear,
Now my wonder,
Once my fear.
See! satyrs dance along
In a confusèd throng,
Whilst horns and pipes’ rude noise
Do mad their lusty joys.
Roses his forehead crown,
And that recrowns the flowers;
Where he walks up and down
He makes the deserts bowers.
The ivy and the grape
Hide not, adorn his shape,
And green leaves clothe his waving rod:
’Tis he, ’tis either Theseus, or some god.
William Cartwright (1611-1643)
Do not weep, fair Ariadane, I still sing under the intoxicating influence of cupid's arrow for you!
I hope you enjoy this little rendition and if you can listen to it all you have my ne'er ending gratitude~
antiup on the lute~
Theseus, O Theseus, hark! but yet in vain,
Alas, forsaken I complain:
It was some neighb’ring rock, more soft than he,
Whose hollow bowels pitied me,
And beating back that false and cruel name,
Did comfort and revenge my flame.
Then faithless whither wilt thou fly?
Stones dare not harbour cruelty!
Tell me, ye gods, who e’er ye are,
Why, O why, made ye him so fair?
And tell me wretch, why thou
Mad’st not thyself more true?
Beauty from him might copies take,
And more majestic heroes make,
And falsehood learn a wile
From him too, to beguile:
Restore my clew,
’Tis here most due,
For ’tis a lab’rinth of more subtle art
To have so fair a face, so foul a heart.
The rav’nous vulture tear his breast,
The rolling stone disturb his rest;
Let him next feel
Ixion’s wheel,
And add one fable more
To cursing poets’ store.
And then–– yet rather let him live, and twine
His woof of days with some thread stol’n from mine.
But if you’ll torture him, howe’er:
Torture my heart, you’ll find him there.
Till mine eyes drank up his,
And his drank mine,
I ne’er thought souls might kiss,
And spirits join.
Pictures till then
Took me as much as men:
Nature and art
Moving alike my heart.
But his fair visage made me find
Pleasures and fears,
Hopes, sighs, and tears,
As several seasons of the mind.
Should thine eye, Venus, on his dwell,
Thou wouldst invite him to thy shell,
And, caught by that live jet,
Venture the second net:
And after all thy dangers faithless he,
Shouldst thou but slumber, would forsake ev’n thee!
The streams so court the yielding banks,
And gliding thence ne’er pay their thanks;
The winds so woo the flowers,
Whisp’ring among fresh bowers,
And having robbed them of their smells,
Fly thence perfumed to other cells.
This is familiar hate, to smile, and kill:
Though nothing please thee, yet my ruin will.
Death hover, hover o’er me then;
Waves let your crystal womb
Be both my fate and tomb:
I’ll sooner trust the sea than men.
Yet for revenge to heav’n I’ll call,
And breathe one curse before I fall.
Proud of two conquests, minotaur and me –
That by my faith, this by thy perjury –
May’st thou forget to wing thy ships with white,
That the black sails may to the longing sight
Of thy grey father tell thy fate, and he
Bequeath that sea his name, falling like me.
Nature and love thus brand thee, whilst I die
’Cause thou forsak’st, Aegeus ’cause thou draw’st nigh.
And ye, O nymphs, below who sit,
In whose swift floods his vows he writ,
Snatch a sharp diamond from your richer mines,
And in some mirror grave these sadder lines,
Which let some god convey
To him, that so he may
In that both read at once, and see,
Those looks that caused my destiny.
Her Epitaph
“In Thetis’ arms I Ariadne sleep,
Drowned first in mine own tears, then in the deep.
Twice banished, first by love, and then by hate:
The life that I preserved became my fate,
Who, leaving all, was by him left alone,
That from a monster freed, himself proved one.”Thus then I f–– but look: O mine eyes,
Be now true spies;
Yonder, yonder
Comes my dear,
Now my wonder,
Once my fear.
See! satyrs dance along
In a confusèd throng,
Whilst horns and pipes’ rude noise
Do mad their lusty joys.
Roses his forehead crown,
And that recrowns the flowers;
Where he walks up and down
He makes the deserts bowers.
The ivy and the grape
Hide not, adorn his shape,
And green leaves clothe his waving rod:
’Tis he, ’tis either Theseus, or some god.
William Cartwright (1611-1643)
Do not weep, fair Ariadane, I still sing under the intoxicating influence of cupid's arrow for you!
I hope you enjoy this little rendition and if you can listen to it all you have my ne'er ending gratitude~
antiup on the lute~
Category Music / Classical
Species Leopard
Size 119 x 120px
File Size 9.08 MB
Listened to the whole thing. :3
Parts of it sort of reminded me of Dido's Lament from the Purcell opera, but I believe Purcell was long after this piece.
Last year, I had to take a course on pre-common practice music, from the days of Gregorian chant to the Renaissance. Every so often we'd listen to a Virelai, or a Ballade, or a Madrigal, and I'd sometimes wondered if your quintet may have been featured in any of the recordings. :3
Parts of it sort of reminded me of Dido's Lament from the Purcell opera, but I believe Purcell was long after this piece.
Last year, I had to take a course on pre-common practice music, from the days of Gregorian chant to the Renaissance. Every so often we'd listen to a Virelai, or a Ballade, or a Madrigal, and I'd sometimes wondered if your quintet may have been featured in any of the recordings. :3
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Huh, I guess, haha! They're both languid pieces, though I think Purcell's music is so much more divine than this. And I think maybe about thirty years. The change is almost as dramatic as the eighties to today.
And it could be! I think it's more likely that you heard some stuff by the older members of our quintet, they were active way back in the eighties (and one evens tarted in the seventies!) Random and I started at the turn of the millennium.
Level up!
Bonuses:
+3 Culture
+2 Historical sensitivity
Huh, I guess, haha! They're both languid pieces, though I think Purcell's music is so much more divine than this. And I think maybe about thirty years. The change is almost as dramatic as the eighties to today.
And it could be! I think it's more likely that you heard some stuff by the older members of our quintet, they were active way back in the eighties (and one evens tarted in the seventies!) Random and I started at the turn of the millennium.
Oh how beautiful! I can't find words for the beauty of your voice and expression, musicality - it is absolutely breath taking! And I absolutely love how your English is perfect and I can understand everything, usually whenever a soprano sings something in English sounds horrible! You sound like a crystal!
Well, any operatic singing is near incomprehensible in any language - the only advantage is that most is in another, usually unknown, language. =P
This isn't the same type of singing as in opera - one doesn't have to be as loud so it's easier to pronounce all those dang consonants. Thank you!!!
This isn't the same type of singing as in opera - one doesn't have to be as loud so it's easier to pronounce all those dang consonants. Thank you!!!
Love the mix of straight and vibrato.
Makes this period of music shine.
What genre is this even? It's like a giant recitative.
I JUST got out of my Music History class... and I got nothin'
Lutesong? *shrugs* that's just a guess.
I dearly dearly hope that you are making your living through music cause... JEEEZE
Every single thing you post here is PERFECT. like... wow...
Your ornaments are all beautifully executed.
Makes this period of music shine.
What genre is this even? It's like a giant recitative.
I JUST got out of my Music History class... and I got nothin'
Lutesong? *shrugs* that's just a guess.
I dearly dearly hope that you are making your living through music cause... JEEEZE
Every single thing you post here is PERFECT. like... wow...
Your ornaments are all beautifully executed.
It's an extra emotional layer - usually I tend to make them more pronounced when I think the voice (by that I mean the voice of the poem) may be crying. More subtle when it's a sweet passage, as to emulate a caress. And yes, the contrast in the melody does give a slight drive to the music! Glad you appreciate it, heh, the emotional undertones are all very mannerist though.
And I guess 'lute song' would apply to any song that can be accompanied by lute - especially in England, where the lute was specified (in Italy the accompaniment was ambiguous, many times just noted as other separate voices). This one is really a 'Lament' which is a genre all on its own, a poem in music, I guess it is a little like a recitative!
And as for that, heh, yeah, I do live off of my music! Though these days I'm taking a bit of a sabbatical from anything too serious.
And thank you, I try my best! I think that if I ever get Parkinson's they'll only improve. Or at least I wouldn't have to think about them, haha.
And I guess 'lute song' would apply to any song that can be accompanied by lute - especially in England, where the lute was specified (in Italy the accompaniment was ambiguous, many times just noted as other separate voices). This one is really a 'Lament' which is a genre all on its own, a poem in music, I guess it is a little like a recitative!
And as for that, heh, yeah, I do live off of my music! Though these days I'm taking a bit of a sabbatical from anything too serious.
And thank you, I try my best! I think that if I ever get Parkinson's they'll only improve. Or at least I wouldn't have to think about them, haha.
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