An English Dreame - concert by Clara Brunet & Bor Zuljan
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- Опубликовано: 16 июл 2024
- An English Dreame
concert recorded for the Lute Society of America online festival
with
Clara Brunet - soprano
Bor Zuljan - orpharion & lute
0:00 Preludium
1:55 Come Ye Heavy States of Night (John Dowland)
5:02 A Dream (John Dowland)
11:24 Care Charming Sleep (Robert Johnson)
15:01 Interlude - A Fancy
17:29 Go Nightly Cares (John Dowland)
22:55 Mr. Dowland's Midnight (John Dowland) - Tis Now Dead Night (text by John Coprario)
25:40 From Silent Night (John Dowland)
28:28 In Darkness Let Me Dwell (John Dowland)
32:28 Sleep (Peter Warlock)
35:56 Bagatelle n.2 (William Walton)
40:30 Darkness (text by Lord Byron)
Video by Mara Winter
Audio by Bor Zuljan 
Видеоклипы
It's a pleasure to hear Peter Warlock matched with the Elizabethan composers whom he was among the first to appreciate, and imitate. "Sleep" is perhaps his finest song, but I would welcome more of his other settings. Clara Brunet's delivery is subtle and lovely, and the orpharion makes a fine substitute for the piano.
Thanks too for Byron's "Darkness" -- a text for our grim times.
First time I hear these songs accompanied on the orpharion, it sounds wonderful. Clara Brunet's voice is absolutely perfect for this repertoire (and for much more, I'm sure). A delightful recital, thank you!
For listeners' convenience, here are the texts:
[John Dowland]
Come ye heavy states of night,
Do my fathers spirit right,
Soundings baleful let me borrow,
Burthening my song with sorrow,
Come sorrow come her eyes that sings,
By thee are turnèd into springs.
Come you virgins of the night,
That in dirges sad delight,
Choir my anthems, I doe borrow
Gold nor pearle, but sounds of sorrow:
Come sorrow come her eyes that sings,
By thee are turnèd into springs.
--Anonymous
[Robert Johnson]
Care-charming Sleep, thou easer of all woes,
Brother to death, sweetly thyself dispose
On this afflicted [k]night*; fall like a cloud
in gentle show'rs; give nothing to it loud
Or painful to his slumbers; easy, sweet.
And as a purling stream, thou son of Night
Pass by his troubled senses; sing his pain
Like hollow murmuring wind or silver rain.
Into thyself** gently, O gently, O gently slide
And kiss him into slumbers like a bride.
-- John Fletcher, *Valentinian* (1610-14)
Alternative readings:
* prince
** Into this prince
[John Dowland]
Goe nightly cares, the enemy to rest,
Forbeare a while to vexe my grieved sprite,
So long your weight hath lyne upon my breast,
that loe I live of life bereaved quite,
O give me time to draw my weary breath,
Or let me dye, as I desire the death.
Welcome sweete death, oh life, no life, a hell,
Then thus, and thus I bid the world farewell.
False world farewell, the enemy to rest,
now doe thy worst, I doe not weigh thy spight:
Free from thy cares I live for ever blest,
Enjoying peace and heavenly true delight.
Delight, whom woes nor sorrowes shall amate,
nor feares or teares disturbe her happy state.
And thus I leave thy hopes, thy joyes untrue,
and thus, and thus vaine world againe adue.
-- Anonymous
[Mr. Dowland's Midnight (John Dowland) - Tis Now Dead Night (text by John Coprario)]
CORRECTION: Text by Thomas Campion*
'Tis now dead night, and not a light on earth,
Or starre in heaven, doth shine:
Now let a mother mourne the noblest birth
That ever was both mortall, and divine.
O sweetnesse peerlesse! more then humane grace!
O flowry beauty! O untimely death!
Now Musicke, fill this place
With thy most dolefull breath:
O singing wayle a fate more truly funerall
Then when with all his sonnes the sire of Troy did fall.
-- *Songs of Mourning bewailing the vntimely death of Prince Henry. Worded by Tho. Campion. And set forth to bee sung with one voyce to the lute, or violl: by Iohn Coprario*. London, 1613
[John Dowland]
From silent night, true register of moanes
From saddest Soule consumde with deepest sinnes
From hart quite rent with sighes and heavie groanes
My wayling Muse her wofull worke beginnes.
And to the world brings tunes of sad despaire
Sounding nought else but sorrow, griefe and care.
-- Anonymous
[John Dowland]
In darkness let me dwell; the ground shall sorrow be,
The roof despair, to bar all cheerful light from me;
The walls of marble black, that moist'ned still shall weep;
My music, hellish jarring sounds, to banish friendly sleep.
Thus, wedded to my woes, and bedded in my tomb,
O let me living die, till death doth come, till death doth come.
-- Anonymous
[Peter Warlock]*
SLEEP
Come, Sleep, and with thy sweet deceiving
Lock me in delight awhile;
Let some pleasing dreams beguile
All my fancies; that from thence
I may feel an influence
All my powers of care bereaving!
Though but a shadow, but a sliding,
Let me know some little joy!
We that suffer long annoy
Are contented with a thought
Through an idle fancy wrought:
O let my joys have some abiding!
-- John Fletcher
*Philip Arnold Heseltine (1894-1930)
DARKNESS
I had a dream, which was not all a dream.
The bright sun was extinguish'd, and the stars
Did wander darkling in the eternal space,
Rayless, and pathless, and the icy earth
Swung blind and blackening in the moonless air;
Morn came and went-and came, and brought no day,
And men forgot their passions in the dread
Of this their desolation; and all hearts
Were chill'd into a selfish prayer for light:
And they did live by watchfires - and the thrones,
The palaces of crowned kings - the huts,
The habitations of all things which dwell,
Were burnt for beacons; cities were consum'd,
And men were gather'd round their blazing homes
To look once more into each other's face;
Happy were those who dwelt within the eye
Of the volcanos, and their mountain-torch:
A fearful hope was all the world contain'd;
Forests were set on fire-but hour by hour
They fell and faded-and the crackling trunks
Extinguish'd with a crash-and all was black.
* * *
The world was void,
The populous and the powerful was a lump,
Seasonless, herbless, treeless, manless, lifeless -
A lump of death - a chaos of hard clay.
The rivers, lakes and ocean all stood still,
And nothing stirr'd within their silent depths;
Ships sailorless lay rotting on the sea,
And their masts fell down piecemeal: as they dropp'd
They slept on the abyss without a surge -
The waves were dead; the tides were in their grave,
The moon, their mistress, had expir'd before;
The winds were wither'd in the stagnant air,
And the clouds perish'd; Darkness had no need
Of aid from them - She was the Universe.
--George Gordon, Lord Byron (1816)
Holy Moly
Bore, you are privileged! 🙂 Clara is FANTASTIC! 🙂
She is! :)
It's my first time to hear an orpharion played in delicate, lute-like manner; in other hands it usually sounds much more rough and brash.
Fantastic! Bravo Bore! Brava Clara! Branislav
Hvala Brane!
I was held captive by this well of musical beauty, thank you!
Thank you, dear Tony!
Magnificent! Absolute greatness.
Grazie!
Wonderful as always, Bor. Thank you. -Timotej
Hvala!
👍😍how beautiful ! happy new year!
Merci Adrien ! Magnifique année à toi !
Beautiful!
Thank you Thomas!
Beautiful, Bravi!
Grazie!
Beautiful. 🎼👌❤
Hvala!
Enchanting. Thanks for sharing!!
Merci Emma-Lisa!
Ah, Bor. was anything you did any less than brilliant?
Oh, thank you! Glad you like it all!
Marvelous!!!
Gracias, merci!
Sublime!
Thank you Tamara!
Mezmerizing! Bravissim*
Grazie!
BRAVO!!!
thank you!
Magnifique!!!! Who is the luthier? Qui a réalisé ce bel instrument?
Merci ! L'orpharion ? C'est Bruce Brook qui l'a fait.
je m'en doutais. Je lui ai commandé un instrument, l'attente est le premier pas vers le plaisir.
@@patrigkernoa3628 super ! Bonne attente alors ;)
wonderful! Are the Preludium and Fancy original compositions?
Thanks! They are free improvisations