The Penguin Book of English Song
Page 18
Each a Torch in his Hand!
Those are Grecian Ghosts, that in Battail were slayn,
And unbury’d remain
Inglorious on the Plain:
Give the Vengeance due
To the Valiant Crew29.
Behold how they toss their Torches on high,
How they point to the Persian Abodes,
And glitt’ring Temples of their Hostile Gods.
The Princes applaud with a furious Joy;
And the King seized a Flambeau with Zeal to destroy;
Thais led the Way,
To light him to his Prey,
And, like another Hellen, fir’d another Troy.30
CHORUS
And the King seyzed a Flambeau, with Zeal to destroy;
Thais led the Way,
To light him to his Prey,
And, like another Hellen, fir’d another Troy.
VII
Thus long ago
’Ere heaving Bellows31 learn’d to blow,
While Organs yet were mute,
Timotheus, to his breathing Flute
And sounding Lyre,
Cou’d swell the Soul to rage, or kindle soft Desire.
At last Divine Cecilia came,
Inventress of the Vocal Frame32;
The sweet Enthusiast33, from her Sacred Store,
Enlarg’d the former narrow Bounds,
And added Length to solemn Sounds,34
With Nature’s Mother-Wit, and Arts unknown before.
Let old Timotheus yield the Prize,
Or both divide the Crown:
He rais’d a Mortal to the Skies;
She drew an Angel down.35
GRAND CHORUS
At last Divine Cecilia came,
Inventress of the Vocal Frame;
The sweet Enthusiast, from her Sacred Store,
Enlarg’d the former narrow Bounds,
And added Length to solemn Sounds,
With Nature’s Mother-Wit, and Arts unknown before.
Let old Timotheus yield the Prize,
Or both divide the Crown:
He rais’d a Mortal to the Skies;
She drew an Angel down.
GEORGE FRIDERIC HANDEL
A song for St CECILIA’s Day, November 22, 1687
[Ode for St Cecilia’s Day] (1739)
I
From Harmony, from heav’nly Harmony
This universal Frame began;1
When Nature underneath a heap
Of jarring Atomes lay,
And cou’d not heave her Head,
The tuneful Voice was heard from high,
Arise, ye more than dead.
Then cold and hot and moist and dry,
In order to their stations leap,
And MUSICK’s pow’r obey.
From Harmony, from heavenly Harmony
This universal Frame began:
From Harmony to Harmony
Through all the Compass of the Notes it ran,
The Diapason closing full in Man.
II
What passion cannot MUSICK raise and quell!
When Jubal2 struck the corded Shell,
His list’ning Brethren stood around,
And, wond’ring, on their Faces fell
To worship that Celestial Sound:
Less than a God they thought there could not dwell
Within the hollow of that Shell
That spoke so sweetly, and so well.
What passion cannot MUSICK raise and quell!
III
The TRUMPETS loud Clangor
Excites us to Arms
With shrill Notes of Anger
And mortal Alarms.
The double double double beat
Of the thund’ring DRUM
Cryes, heark the Foes come;
Charge, Charge, ’tis too late to retreat.
IV
The soft complaining FLUTE
In dying Notes discovers
The Woes of hopeless Lovers,
Whose Dirge is whisper’d by the warbling LUTE.
V
Sharp VIOLINS proclaim
Their jealous Pangs and Desperation,
Fury, frantick Indignation,
Depth of Pains and Height of Passion,
For the fair, disdainful Dame.
VI
But oh! what Art can teach
What human Voice can reach
The sacred ORGANS Praise?
Notes inspiring holy Love,
Notes that wing their heav’nly Ways
To mend the Choires above.
VII
Orpheus cou’d lead the savage race;
And Trees unrooted left their Place,
Sequacious of the Lyre;
But bright CECILIA rai’sd the Wonder high’r:
When to her ORGAN vocal Breath was giv’n,
An Angel heard, and straight appear’d
Mistaking Earth for Heav’n.
GRAND CHORUS
As from the pow’r of Sacred Lays
The Spheres began to move,
And sung the great Creator’s Praise
To all the bless’d above;
So, when the last and dreadful Hour
This crumbling Pageant shall devour,
The TRUMPET shall be heard on high,
The dead shall live, the living die,
And MUSICK shall untune the Sky.
THOMAS TRAHERNE
(1637–74)
When I came into the Country, and being seated among silent Trees, had all my Time in mine own Hands, I resolved to Spend it all, whatever it cost me, in Search of Happiness, and to Satiat that burning Thirst which Nature had Enkindled, in me from my Youth. In which I was so resolut, that I chose rather to liv upon 10 pounds a year, and to go in Lether Clothes, and feed upon Bread and Water, so that I might hav all my time clearly to my self: then to keep many thousands per Annums in an Estate of Life where my Time would be Devoured in Care and Labor. And GOD was so pleased to accept of that Desire, that from that time to this I hav had all things plentifully provided for me, without any Care at all, my very Study of Felicity making me more to Prosper, then all the Care in the Whole World. So that through His Blessing I liv a free and a Kingly Life, as if the World were turned again into Eden, or much more, as it is at this Day.
THOMAS TRAHERNE: Centuries, III, 46
Much doubt surrounds Traherne’s earliest years: the son of a Hereford shoemaker, he seems to have been orphaned at an early age and brought up by Philip Traherne, a wealthy innkeeper who was twice mayor of Hereford. In 1653 he went to Brasenose College, Oxford, was awarded his BA in 1656, his MA in 1661 and his BD in 1669. In 1657 the Parliamentary Commissioners appointed him rector of Credenhill, Herefordshire, where he resided from 1661 to 1669. He was ordained in 1660. While at Credenhill he formed part of the religious circle around Susanna Hopton at Kington, and it was for her that he wrote the Meditations, which came to be known as the Centuries or the Centuries of Meditation. Some of these meditations were published anonymously in 1699 and 1717, but it was not until W. T. Brooke discovered a notebook in a London bookstall during the winter of 1896–7 that the extent and importance of the work was first realized. Bertram Dobell identified Traherne as the author and edited the Poetical Works in 1903, and the Centuries of Meditation in 1908. The Centuries are a series of meditations in which Traherne, recognizing that he is God’s child, exults in all aspects of God’s creation on earth. The conscious delight of the poet in all these divine manifestations expresses the mutual love felt between him and God. This rapturous joy – unparalleled in any other writer of the seventeenth century, except perhaps Barthold Hinrich Brockes in his Irdisches Vergnügen in Gott (see Handel’s Neun deutsche Lieder) – is expressed in a poetic prose, reminiscent of the heightened diction of the Psalms, that breathes a wonderful sense of peace and rapture, quite unclouded by any notion of original sin. The reader is encouraged to view God’s creation with the wonder and simplicity of
a child.
Other volumes by Traherne include Roman Forgeries (1673), the only work published by the poet in his lifetime, which deals with the forging of ecclesiastical documents, especially the mid-ninth-century collection known as the ‘False Decretals’, by the Church of Rome; Christian Ethicks (1675); Poems of Felicity, discovered in the British Museum and published by H. I. Bell as late as 1910; and his Thanksgivings, which were published anonymously in 1699.
GERALD FINZI: Dies Natalis, Op. 8, cantata for soprano or tenor and strings (1939)
Intrada (Strings only); Rhapsody (1926)1
(Recitativo stromentato)
Will you see the Infancy of this sublime and celestial Greatness? […]
I was a [little] Stranger which at my Enterance into the World was Saluted and Surrounded with innumerable Joys. My Knowledg was Divine. […] I was Entertain’d like an Angel with the Works of GOD in their Splendor and Glory. […] Heaven and Earth did sing my Creators Praises, and could not make more Melody to Adam, then to me. […] Certainly Adam in Paradice had not more sweet and Curious Apprehensions of the World then I [when I was a child]. All appeared New, and Strange at first, inexpressibly rare, and Delightfull, and Beautifull. All Things were Spotles and Pure and Glorious. […]
The Corn was Orient and Immortal Wheat, which never should be reaped, nor was ever sown. I thought it had stood from Everlasting to Everlasting. […] The Green Trees when I saw them first [through one of the Gates] Transported and Ravished me; their Sweetnes and unusual Beauty made my Heart to leap, and almost mad with Extasie, they were such strange and Wonderfull things. […] O what Venerable [and Reverend] Creatures did the Aged seem! Immortal Cherubims! And yong Men Glittering and Sparkling Angels and Maids strange Seraphik Pieces of Life and Beauty! [Boys and Girles Tumbling in the Street, and Playing, were moving Jewels.] I knew not that they were Born or should Die. But all things abided Eternaly. […] I knew not that there were any Sins, or Complaints, or Laws. I Dreamed not of Poverties Contentions or Vices. All Tears and Quarrels, were hidden from mine Eys. […] I saw all in the Peace of Eden. Evry Thing was at Rest, Free and Immortal. […]
The Rapture (Danza)
I
Sweet Infancy!
O fire of Heaven! O Sacred Light!
How Fair and Bright!
How Great am I
Whom all the World doth magnifie!
II
O Heavenly Joy!
O Great and Sacred Blessedness,
Which I possess!
So great a Joy
Who did into my Armes convey!
III
From GOD abov
Being sent, the Heavens me enflame,
To prais his Name.
The Stars do move!
The Burning Sun doth shew his Love.
IV
O how Divine
Am I! To all this Sacred Wealth,
This Life and Health,
Who raisd? Who mine
Did make the same! What Hand Divine!
Wonder (Arioso)
I
How like an Angel came I down!
How Bright are all Things here!
When first among his Works I did appear
O how their GLORY me did Crown?
The World resembled his Eternitie,
In which my Soul did Walk;
And evry Thing that I did see,
Did with me talk.
II
The Skies in their Magnificence,
The Lively, Lovely Air,
Oh how divine, how soft, how Sweet, how fair!
The Stars did entertain my Sence;
And all the Works of GOD so Bright and pure,
So Rich and Great did seem,
As if they ever must endure
In my Esteem.
III
A Native Health and Innocence
Within my Bones did grow,
And while my GOD did all his Glories shew,
I felt a Vigour in my Sence
That was all SPIRIT. I within did flow
With Seas of Life, like Wine;
I nothing in the World did know,
But ’twas Divine.
[…]
The Salutation (Aria) (1926)
I
These little Limmes,
These Eys and Hands which here I find,
These rosie Cheeks wherwith my Life begins;
Where have ye been? Behind
What Curtain were ye from me hid so long!
Where was? in what Abyss, my Speaking Tongue?
II
When silent I
So many thousand thousand yeers
Beneath the Dust did in a Chaos lie,
How could I Smiles or Tears,
Or Lips or Hands or Eys or Ears perceiv?
Welcom ye Treasures which I now receiv.
[…]
III
From Dust I rise
And out of Nothing now awake,
These Brighter Regions which salute mine Eys,
A Gift from GOD I take.
The Earth, the Seas, the Light, the Day, the Skies,
The Sun and Stars are mine; if those I prize.
[…]
IV
A Stranger here
Strange Things doth meet, Strange Glories See.
Strange Treasures lodg’d in this fair World appear,
Strange all and New to me.
But that they mine should be who Nothing was,
That Strangest is of all, yet brought to pass.
GERALD FINZI: from To a Poet (1965)
from The Centuries1
An Empty Book is like an Infants Soul, in which any Thing may be Written. It is Capable of all Things, but containeth Nothing. I hav a Mind to fill this with Profitable Wonders […] and with those Things which […] shall shew my Lov. […] Things Strange, yet Common; Most High, yet Plain; infinitly Profitable, but not Esteemed. Truths you Love, without knowing them.
ELIZABETH MACONCHY: Sun, moon and stars (1976)
Sun, Moon and Stars1
All appeared New, and Strange at [the] first, inexpressibly rare, and Delightfull, and Beautifull. […] The Streets were mine, the Temple was mine, the People were mine […], and so were the Sun and Moon and Stars, and all the World was mine. […] All Things were Spotles and Pure and Glorious: yea, and infinitly mine, and Joyfull and Precious. […] But little did the Infant dream/That all the Treasures of the World were by,/And that himself was so the Cream/And Crown of all, which round about did ly.
The Hill1
Rise noble soule and come away;
Lett us no longer wast the day:
Come lett us hast to yonder Hill,
Where Pleasures fresh are growing still.
The way at first is rough and steep;
And something hard for to ascend:
But on the Toppe do Pleasures keep
And Ease and Joyes doe still attend.
Come lett us goe: and doe not fear
The hardest way, while I am neer.
My heart with thine shall mingled bee;
Thy sorrowes mine, my Joyes with Thee.
Solitude
How desolate!
Ah! how forlorn, how sadly did I stand
When in the field my woful State
I felt! Not all the Land,
Not all the Skies,
Tho Heven shin’d before mine Eys,
Could Comfort yield in any Field to me,
Nor could my Mind Contentment find or see. […]
Felicity! O where,
Shall I thee find to eas my Mind! O where!
Clothed with the Stars1
You never Enjoy the World aright till you are Clothed with the Stars. Till your Spirit filleth the whole World, and the Stars are your Jewels.
JOHN WILMOT, EARL OF ROCHESTER
(1647–80)
Were I (who to my cost already am
One of those strange, prodigious Creatures, Man),
A Spirit free, to ch
oose for my own share,
What Case of Flesh, and Blood, I pleas’d to weare,
I’d be a Dog, a Monkey or a Bear,
Or any thing but that vain Animal,
Who is so proud of being Rational.
JOHN WILMOT, EARL OF ROCHESTER: A Satyr against Mankind’
Born in Ditchley, Oxfordshire, John Wilmot was the son of a Royalist father and a Parliamentarian mother. He became Earl of Rochester at the age of twelve and was one of the most dissolute of Charles II’s courtiers, and author of some of the most sexually explicit poems in the English language – ‘Signior Dildo’ (c.1673), ‘A Ramble in St. James’s Park’ (c.1672), ‘A Satyr on Charles II’ (c.1673), ‘The Imperfect Enjoyment’ (1680) and ‘Upon Drinking in a Bowl’ (after 1673), printed below. According to Aubrey, Rochester’s ‘youthly spirit and oppulent fortune did sometimes make him doe extravagant actions, but in the country he was generally civill enough’. After leaving Oxford – he was a Master of Arts shortly after turning fourteen – he travelled abroad, and then on his return in 1664 joined the court of Charles II. At eighteen he abducted a much sought-after heiress, Elizabeth Malet, and married her after a delay of some eighteen months, during which he fought with typical bravery in the naval wars against the Dutch. In 1666 he was made a Gentleman of the King’s Bedchamber, and in 1674, as a special royal favour, was appointed Keeper of Woodstock Park. He led a divided existence: periods of domesticity with his wife, Elizabeth, were followed by weeks of profligacy in London, where he had several mistresses, including the celebrated actress Elizabeth Barry. His excesses caused him to be dismissed several times from court, but it seems that he was always taken back into favour. He confessed towards the end of his life that he had been under the influence of drink for five consecutive years – the reason, along with the venereal disease contracted early in his career, for his increasingly poor health in his early thirties. Though he had ‘blazed out his youth and health in lavish voluptuousness’ (Jonson), he became, according to Aubrey, ‘exceedingly paenitent’ in his final illness, ‘wrote a letter of repentance to Dr Burnet […] and sent for all his servants, even the piggard-boy [pig-yard boy], to come and hear his Palinode [repentance]’. Marvell described Rochester as ‘the best English satyrist’ (Aubrey: Brief Lives), and he was indeed admired by Swift and Pope; but he also wrote some wonderfully tender lyrics. Above all, his poetry expresses the immediacy of individual experience like that of no other poet before him.