Four Metaphysical Songs, for bass and string orchestra, (26')
on texts by Fulke Grenville, Francis Quarles, George Herbert, and John Donne.
Premiere: Guenko Guechev (bass) and the Duquesne Symphony Orchestra under the direction of Sidney Harth,
Carnegie Music Hall in Pittsburgh, PA, Oct. 15, 2006
Broadcast live: WQED FM 89.3
Recorded by Guenko Guechev (bass) and the Duquesne Symphony Orchestra under the direction of Sidney Harth
Note: there is a version of the cycle for voice and piano
Many years before such expressive idioms as " you see" and "kind of" were successfully incorporated into every other phrase in spoken English, there had lived those poets who communicated through very different English ("true and false feares let us refraine"; "till we attaine to write treescore"). The term 'metaphysical' refers to a group of seventeenth-century English poets who, although never self-consciously a school, did possess in common certain features of argument and powerful persuasion which have come to be described 'metaphysical'. Characterized by a pungent concentration of thought and a sinewy strengths of style, their poems are considered to be among the most challenging and beautiful in the English language.
on texts by Fulke Grenville, Francis Quarles, George Herbert, and John Donne.
Premiere: Guenko Guechev (bass) and the Duquesne Symphony Orchestra under the direction of Sidney Harth,
Carnegie Music Hall in Pittsburgh, PA, Oct. 15, 2006
Broadcast live: WQED FM 89.3
Recorded by Guenko Guechev (bass) and the Duquesne Symphony Orchestra under the direction of Sidney Harth
Note: there is a version of the cycle for voice and piano
Many years before such expressive idioms as " you see" and "kind of" were successfully incorporated into every other phrase in spoken English, there had lived those poets who communicated through very different English ("true and false feares let us refraine"; "till we attaine to write treescore"). The term 'metaphysical' refers to a group of seventeenth-century English poets who, although never self-consciously a school, did possess in common certain features of argument and powerful persuasion which have come to be described 'metaphysical'. Characterized by a pungent concentration of thought and a sinewy strengths of style, their poems are considered to be among the most challenging and beautiful in the English language.
by Fulke Greville is a contemplative verse that questions and protests the deeper causes of humanity's misery. It reflects on the internal as well as external conflicts and hypocrisies that plaque our existence.
See full text at the bottom of this page. |
II. Wherefore Hidest Thou Thy Face, and Holdest Me for Thine Enemy
is a dramatic poem by Francis Quarels, based on a verse from from the Book of Job. The text portrays man's feeling of despair and anguish and loss of direction without the guidance of God. It is an outcry of ill-fated man oscillating between hopelessness and God's saving grace. See full text at the bottom of this page.
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III. Vertue
by George Herbert is a lyrical reflection on the ephemeral quality of material beauty. It explores the subtle juxtapositions of the fleeting beauty of nature versus the constant beauty of of goodness and virtue.
See full text at the bottom of this page. |
IV. The Anniversarie
by John Donne is an ode to love. Love is characterized as the highest treasure of human existence - the ultimate blessing!
See full text at the bottom of this page. |
I. Chorus Sacerdortum
Oh wearisome Condition of Humanity!
Borne under one Law, to another bound: Vainely begot, and yet forbidden vanity, Created sicke, commanded to be sound: What meaneth Nature by these diverse Lawes? Passion and Reason, selfe-division cause: Is it the marke, or Majesty of Power To make offences that it may forgive? Nature herselfe, doth her own selfe defloure, To hate those errors she her selfe doth give. For how should man thinke that he may not doe, If Nature did not faile, and punish too? Tyrant to others, to her selfe unjust, Onely commands things difficult and hard. Forbids us all things, which it knowes is lust, Makes easie paines, unpossible reward. If nature did not take delight in blood, She would have made more easie wayes to good. We that are bound by vowes, and by Promotion, With pompe of holy Sacrifice, and rites, To teach beleefe in good and still devotion, To preach of Heavens wonders, and delights: Yet when each of us, in his owne heart lookes, He findes the God there, farre unlike his Bookes. |
III. Vertue
Sweet day, so cool, so calm, so bright,
The bridall of the earth and skie: The dew shall weep thy fall to night; For thou must die. Sweet rose, whose hue angrie and brave Bids the rash gazer wipe his eye: Thy root is ever in its grave, And thou must die. Sweet spring, full of sweet dayes and roses, A box where sweets compacted lie, My musick shows ye have your closes, And all must die. Onely a sweet and vertuous soul, Like season'd timber, never gives; But though the whole world turn to coal, Then chiefly lives. |
II. Wherefore Hidest Thou Thy Face, and Holdest me for Thy Enemy
Why dost thou shade thy lovely face? O why
Does that ecclipsing hand, so long, deny The Sun-shine of thy soule-enliv'ning eye? Without that Light, what light remaines in me? Thou art my Life, my Way, my Light;in Thee I live, I move, and by thy beames I see. Thou art my Life;if thou but turne away, My life's a thousand deaths: thou art my Way; Without thee, Lord, I travell not, but stray. My Light thou art; without thy glorious sight, Mine eyes are darkned with perpetuall night. My God, thou art my Way, my Life, my Light. Thou art my Way;I wander, if thou flie: Thou art my Light;if hid, how blind am I! Thou art my Life;If thou withdraw, I die. Mine eyes are blind and darke;I cannot see; To whom, or whither should my darknesse flee, But to the Light? And who's that Light but Thee? My path is lost; my wandring steps do stray; I cannot safely go, nor safely stay; Whom should I see but Thee, my Path, my Way? O, I am dead:to whom shall I, poore I, Repaire? to whom shall my sad Ashes fly But Life? And where is Life but in thine eye? And yet thou turn'st away thy face, and fly'st me; And yet I sue for Grace and thou deny'st me; Speake, art thou angry, Lord, or onely try'st me? Unskreene those heav'nly lamps, or tell me why Thou shad'st thy face; Perhaps, thou thinkst, no eye Can view those flames, and not drop downe and die. If that be all, shine forth, and draw thee nigher; Let me behold and die; for my desire Is Phoenix-like to perish in that Fire. Death-conquer'd Laz'rus was redeem'd by Thee; If I am dead, Lord, set death's pris’ner free; Am I more spent, or stink I worse than he? If my pufft light be out, give leave to tine My flameless snuffe at that bright Lamp of thine; O what's thy Light the lesse for lighting mine? If I have lost my Path, great Shepheard, say, Shall I still wander in a doubtfull way? Lord, shall a Lamb of Isr’el's sheepfold stray? Thou art the Pilgrim's Path; the blind man's Eye; The dead man's Life;on thee my hopes rely; If thou remove, I erre;I grope;I die. Disclose thy Sun beams;close thy wings, and stay; See, see, how I am blind, and dead, and stray, O thou, that art my Light, my Life, my Way. |
IV. The Anniversarie
All Kings, and all their favorites,
All glory’of honors, beauties, wits, The Sun it selfe, which makes times, as they passe, Is elder by a yeare, now, than it was When thou and I first one another saw: All other things to their destruction draw, Only our love hath no decay; This, no to morrow hath, nor yesterday, Running it never runs from us away, But truly keepes his first, last, everlasting day. Two graves must hide thine and my corse; If one might, death were no divorce. Alas, as well as other Princes, wee, (Who prince enough in one another bee,) Must leave at last in death, these eyes, and eares, Oft fed with true oathes, and with sweet salt teares; But soules where nothing dwells but love (All other thoughts being inmates) then shall prove This, or a love increased there above, When bodies to their graves, souls from their graves remove. And then wee shall be throughly blest; But wee no more, than all the rest. Here upon earth, we'are Kings, and none but wee Can be such Kings, nor of such subjects bee; Who is so safe as wee? where none can doe Treason to us, except one of us two. True and false feares let us refraine, Let us love nobly,’ and live, and adde againe Yeares and yeares unto yeares, till we attaine To write threescore: this is the second of our raigne. |
