Songs of Jealousy and Rage

Anna Zayaruzny, Soprano

Edward Watkins, Piano

Nicholas Wearne, Continuo

January 30, 2004 ◦ New College

Beatriz de Dia	A chantar m’er	(text)
Handel	Sorge nel alma mia	(text)
Monteverdi	Disprezzata regina	(text)
Mozart	Tutte nel cor vi sento	(text)
Daniel Purcell	Morpheus, thou gentle God	(text)
Luigi Rossi	Gelosia	(text)

Anna Zayaruzny is not by nature jealous or enraged. She studies music at Wesleyan University in Connecticut, and is spending this year in Oxford concentrating on early notation and secular music-making in Tudor and Elizabethan England. Anna’s operatic career started with La Bohème when she was seventeen, and ended recently when she decided that she would rather be reading. Her roles include the Sorceress in Dido and Aeneas, Tirinto in Imeneo, Flora in La Purpura de la Rosa, and Sesto in La Clemenza di Tito. Anna’s interest in issues of early performance practice led her to spend last summer interning for the Boston and Amherst Early Music Festivals. She thanks you for coming today.

Edward Watkins is a third-year music student at Keble College, where he is an organ scholar. He also sings with Magdala. Edward’s intelligence, wit, and sense of style are matched only by his kindness in agreeing to accompany today’s program.

Nicholas Wearne is an organ scholar at New College. He was made aware of today’s recital on Monday, and it is unclear what, apart from considerations of karma, could have induced him to accept. The last-minute nature of his participation is in any case in no way apparent from his sensitive and stylized continuo playing.

Thanks to NCO, to Ed and Nick for their time and energy, to Matthew for the translation, and to Robert Bruce at the Bodleian for allowing me access to several original copies of Morpheus, thou gentle God.

La Comtessa de Dia (late 12^th century) – “A chantar m’er”

1. A chantar m'er de so qu'eu no volria,
tant me rancur de lui cui sui amia;
car eu l'am mais que nuilla ren que sia:
vas lui no.m val merces ni cortezia
ni ma beltatz ni mos pretz ni mos sens;
c'atressi.m sui enganad' e trahia
Com degr' esser, s'eu fos dezavinens.

2.D'aisso.m conort, car anc non fi faillensa,
Amics, vas vos per nuilla captenenssa;
ans vo am mais non fetz Seguis Valensa,
e platz mi mout quez eu d'amar vos vensa,
lo meus amics, car etz lo plus valens;
mi faitz orgoil en digz et en parvensa,
et si etz francs vas totas autras gens.

5. Valer mi deu mos pretz e mos paratges
e ma beutatz e plus mos fins coratges;
per qu'eu vos man lai on es vostr' estatges
esta chanson, que me sia messatges:
e voill saber, lo meus bels amics gens,
per que vos m'etz tant fers ni tant salvatges;
no sai si s'es orgoills o mal talens.

6. Mais aitan plus voill li digas, messatges,
qu'en trop d'orgoill an gran dan maintas gens

I must sing of what I do not want,
I am so angry with the one whom I love,
Because I love him more than anything:
Mercy nor courtesy moves him,
Nor do my beauty, my worthiness, or my good sense,
For I am deceived and betrayed
As much as I should be, if I were ugly.

I take comfort because I never did anything wrong,
Friend, towards you in anything,
Rather I love you more than Seguin did Valensa,
And I am greatly pleased that I conquered you in love,
My friend, because you are the most worthy;
You are arrogant to me in words and appearance,
And yet you are so friendly towards everyone else.

My worth and my nobility should help me,
My beauty and my fine heart;
Therefore, I send this song down to you
So that it would be my messenger.
I want to know, my fair and noble friend,
Why you are so cruel and savage to me;
I don't know if it is arrogance or ill will.

But I especially want you, messenger, to tell him
That many people suffer for having too much pride.

-Translated by Craig E. Bertolet

*Handel, Imeneo* (1740) – “Sorge nel alma mia”**
TIRINTO Sorge nel alma mia qual va sorgendo in cielo picciola nuvoletta che poi tuona e saetta e passa ad agitare la terra e `l mare ancor. Questa è la gelosia che va spiegando un velo di torbido sospetto che poi dentro al mio petto potrebbe diventar tormento.	TIRINTUS Something is growing in my soul, just as sometimes there grows in the sky a tiny cloud which will then cause thunder and lightening and go on to shake both land and sea. This is jealousy which increasingly casts a veil of dark suspicion in my breast, which then may grow into a torment.
*Monteverdi, L'Incoronazione di Poppea* (1643) – “Disprezzata regina”**
OTTAVIA Disprezzata regina Del monarca romano afflitta moglie Che fò, ove son, che penso ? O delle donne miserabil sesso : Se la natura e'l cielo Libere ci produce Il matrimonio cinatena serve. Nerone, empio Nerone, Marito, o Dio, marito Bestemmiato pur sempre, E maledetto dai cordogli miei, Dove ohimè, dove sei ? In braccio di Poppea, Tu dimori felice e godi, e intanto Il frequente cader de' pianti miei Pur va quasi formando Un diluvio di specchi in cui tu miri Dentro alle tue delizie i miei martiri, Destin, se stai là su, Giove ascoltami tu, Se per punir Nerone Fulmini tu non hai, D'impotenza t'accuso, D'inguistizia t'incolpo, Ahi, trapasso tropp'oltre, e me ne pento, Sopprimo, e spelisco In taciturne angoscie il moi tormento.	OCTAVIA Humiliated queen, Martyred wife of the Roman monarch, What am I doing? What am I? What am I thinking? Oh, pitiable sex of woman: Even though nature and heaven created us free, Marriage enchains us like slaves. Nero, accursed Nero, Oh God, my husband, You are eternally punished And cursed by my misery, Where, ah, where are you? In Poppea's arms, You gaily take your pleasure While my countless tears Are an infinite number of mirrors In which you see Your happiness and my torment. Providence, if there is such a thing, Jupiter, listen to me, If to punish Nero you have no thunderbolts, Then I accuse you of impotence, Change you with injustice, -- Ah, I am going to far, I regret what I have said, I should in silent pain suppress my torments.

Mozart, Idomeneo (1781) – “Tutte nel cor vi sento”

ELETTRA
Tutte nel cor vi sento
Furie del crudo Averno
Lunge a si gran tormento
Amor, mercé, pietà.

Chi mi rubò quel core,
Quel, che tradito ha il mio,
Provin dal mio furore
Vendetta, e crudeltà.

ELECTRA
In my heart I feet you all,
Furies of bitter Hades;
far from such fierce torment
be love, pity, or mercy.

Let her who stole that heart
which betrayed mine
feel my fury
and cruel revenge.

Daniel Purcell – Iphigenia (1700) – “Morpheus, thou gentle God”

Morpheus thou gentle God of soft Repose,
the unruly tumults of my Mind compose,
alay the fury of my anxious Care
drive hence black Thoughts & chase away Despaire.

Here lett indulgent fancie sooth my Pain,
here let me Sleep and never wake again.

What's this I feel, what's this within my Breast,
Striks such Alarms & will not let me rest?

Tis Jealousy, tormenting Jealousy the Bane of Love.
I rage, I rave, I rave, my Soule o'fire
Tortur'd with wild Despair & fierce desire
My Strephon's loss I cannot, will not bear,
I'le be reveng'd & more than woman Dare;
Death, only death can now my thoughts employ;
I must my Rivall or my Self destroy.

Luigi Rossi – “Gelosia” (1646)

Gelosia, cha a poco a poco
Nel mio cor serpendo vai,
Non entrar dov’arde il foco
Vero amor non gela mai.

Da ma che brami?
Forse vuoi tu
Ch’io piu non ami

Furia dell’ alma mia!
Non mi tormentar più!
Lasciami gelosia!

Ma crudel tu pur pian piano
Del mio cor stai sulle porte
Fuggi fuggi, oimè lontano!
Del tuo gelo e’ Amor più forte.

Da ma che speri?
Godendo io sto
De’ miei pensieri.

Furia dell’ alma mia!
Non più rigor, nò!
Lasciami gelosia!

Jealousy, you who little by little
come into my heart like a serpent,
don't enter where the fire burns:
true love never freezes.

What do you desire from me?
Perhaps you want that
I should no longer love.

Fury of my soul!
Torment me no longer!
Leave me, jealousy!

But, still cruel, softly, softly
you stand at the gates of my heart.
Flee, flee - ah me! - far away,
love is stronger than your chill.

What do you hope for from me?
I stand delighted
in my thoughts.

Fury of my soul!
No more rigour, no!
Leave me, jealousy!

- translated by Matthew Nicholls