LES CANARDS CHANTANTS

SEX, DRUGS, AND MADRIGALS

Friday, July 21, 2023 | 7:30 PM
The Indiana History Center
450 West Ohio Street, Indianapolis, IN 46202

A wild and theatrical ride through the extremes of style, drama, humor and emotion in the late Italian madrigal: music by Willaert, Marenzio, Gabrieli, Palestrina, Banchieri, Croce, d’India, Schütz, Gesualdo, Valentini, and of course, Monteverdi.

Program

Giunto m’à amor – Nulla posso levar (Adriano Willaert, Musica Nova, Ferrara, 1559)

Sopra la morte d’Adriano (Andrea Gabrieli, Di Manoli Blessi il primo libro delle greghesche, Venice, 1564)

Spente eran nel mio cor l’antiche fiamme (Giovanni Valentini, Il secondo libro di madrigali, Venice, 1616)

Hor che la vaga Aurora (Vittoria Aleotti, Ghirlanda de madrigali à quattro voci, Venice, 1593)

Lamento della Ninfa (Claudio Monteverdi, Madrigali guerrieri, et amorosi Libro ottavo, Venice, 1638)

Canzonetta da Bambini (Giovanni Croce, Triaca musicale, Venice, 1596)

Intermission

Io mi son giovinetta (Monteverdi, Il quarto libro de madrigali a Cinque voci, Venice, 1603)

Intermezzo improvizzato sulla tiorba (Charles Weaver, Now)

Sfogava con le stelle (Monteverdi, Il quarto libro di madrigali a Cinque voci, Phalesio reprint, 1615)

S’un sguardo un fa beato (Giovanni Pierluigi da Palestrina, Il secondo libro di madrigali, Venice, 1586)

Dispietata pietate (Sigismondo d’India, Il terzo libro di madrigali, Venice, 1615)

Dunque addio, care selve (Heinrich Schütz, Il Primo libro de madrigali, Venice, 1611)

Asciugate i begli occhi (Carlo Gesualdo, Madrigali libro quinto, Gesualdo 1611)

Gioco del conte (Adriano Banchieri, Il festino nella sera di giovedi grasso avanti cena, Venice, 1608)

Cedan l’antiche tue chiare vittorie (Luca Marenzio, Il secondo libro di madrigali a sei voci, Venice, 1584)

NOTES

The phrase “sex, drugs, and rock and roll” was coined to refer to what was seen as the corruption of youth culture in the 1960s and 70s. However, this hedonistic trinity has tempted the morally susceptible among us for centuries, and the twentieth-century catchphrase is really just a modernization of the long- acknowledged trio “wine, women, and song”. In its time, the renaissance madrigal was the primary musical agent of depravity. A concerned Venetian citizen wrote in 1589: “Often the ears of youths are delighted by music which softens the heart to every lasciviousness, ruins good behavior, dispels honesty, inflames the soul with burning love, and stimulates the mind to carnal desire.” The power of music indeed!

Free from the stylistic restrictions of the church and devised for the pleasure of highly educated singers, the renaissance madrigal was a fertile breeding ground for innovations in the relationship of poetry and music. Toward the end of the sixteenth century, these innovations gradually coalesced under the umbrella of a new approach to composition, guided by the precept “oratio sit domina harmoniae,” mistress of harmony.” This was in contrast to the established tradition in which the rules of counterpoint, harmony and voice leading were of primary importance. Composers were enticed by the license to bend counterpoint to the will of emotion and meaning, and they found myriad ways to break musical rules in the name of expressivity. This program is an unabashed celebration of the resulting extremes of style, drama, and emotion in the late Italian madrigal.

As a point of reference and departure, we begin with a madrigal by Adriano Willaert, founding father of the Venetian madrigal school, and acknowledged master of the old style. His serenely melancholy Giunto m’à amor is a tapestry of artful counterpoint, and relatively conservative in light of what was to come. His successor Andrea Gabrieli wrote Sopra la morte d’Adriano, as one of many laments composed for the occasion of Willaert’s death, but it is a particularly quirky tribute. The poem is an excessive expansion on a simple pun; the singers call upon the flora and fauna of the “Adriatic” Sea to mourn the passing of “Adriano” in unromantic detail, including multiple seaweeds, assorted mollusks and fish, and a highly localized list of Adriatic tributaries. Gabrieli’s perfunctory setting of the final couplet “who in all the world is left to equal him in harmony?” makes one wonder what he really thought of the old style and the master’s music.

Our concerned Venetian citizen was not the first to publically beat his breast over the corruptive qualities of passionate Italian madrigals. Giovanni Pierluigi da Palestrina famously renounced the genre in the dedication of his collection of Song of Songs settings to Pope Gregory XIII. Though he had published a book of Italian madrigals as a young man, Palestrina now “blushed and grieved” for having promoted his genius through such an “immoral” medium. But the allure of the madrigal was irresistible: in an about- face, Palestrina published his second book of madrigals only two years later, including the sweetly suggestive S’un sguardo un fa beato with its timeless theme of “don’t kiss and tell”. In comparison, Vittoria Aleotti’s charming madrigal Hor che la vaga Aurora seems rather chaste and harmless, but we must remember that the art form itself was enough to shock in certain circles. Aleotti entered a convent at age of 14, later publishing her book of madrigals from within not only as a woman, but as a nun!

No madrigal program would be complete without Luca Marenzio, one of the most prolific madrigalists of the late sixteenth century. Marenzio rarely missed an opportunity to translate poetic imagery into musical form, and his madrigals display accordingly breathless texture changes. His Cedan l’antiche tue chiare vittorie is a tribute to celebrated Italian musician Vittoria Archilei (1550-1642), also known affectionately as “La Romanina”, and Marenzio’s polyphony vividly serves the poem’s play upon the double meanings of her names: broad and stately opening phrases evoke the architecture and military glory of Rome, then crumble into a dancing triple meter at the text “New poems and stories are sung”; pairs of voices intertwine in delicate flourishes of parallel dotted rhythms and suspensions to paint the encircling of her head with garlands; the name “Vittoria” erupts in a haughty fanfare; all six voices suddenly and shockingly weave in and out of each other across the same five pitches in the same octave, musically ensnared in the “chains of her tresses;” the madrigal’s final cadence echoes the militaristic pomp of the opening, but with a sensuousness of movement in the voice leading that colors the poem’s twist of the familiar “Veni, vidi, vici” into “I came, I saw, and I was conquered.” Although you can’t appreciate it by ear, this madrigal contains a famous example of “augenmusik,” the practice of making the music notation look like the lyric at hand. In this case, the grand arches of Rome are sketched out by a rising and falling arch of eighth notes, designed with the page in mind rather than the sound.

Claudio Monteverdi came under particular critique for his innovations in serving the text with musical expressivity. complete book as a symbolic turning point in the progression of Italian madrigal style. The His fourth book of madrigals, published in 1603, serves as a masterful response to the criticism and today is seen was staged by I Fagiolini in the polyphonic film The Full Monteverdi, which is well worth an hour of your time. Io mi son giovinetta and Sfogava con le stelle illustrate the power of text-derived polyphony from opposite ends of the emotional spectrum. The first is a feverish outburst of impetuous love carried by a few simple but effective architectural devices: upper and lower voice trios (he and she) in dialogue, fleeing sixteenth notes on the word “fuggi”, and sheer speed (it is, after all, young love). Sfogava con le stelle, on the other hand, achieves its expressive power through variety and contrast. Like a miniature opera, unmeasured ensemble recitative urgently propels narrative text, while expansive polyphony allows the poet’s thoughts and feelings to bloom. The poignant plea to the stars, “pietosa, sì” is a study in the sublimity of a few carefully denied expectations: here Monteverdi creates longing through an unorthodox use of melodic dissonance in the soprano. A single additional dissonance in the top soprano (appearing only in a 1616 reprint and often dismissed as a typo) lends extra pain to the final utterance.

Shortly after Monteverdi’s fourth book appeared on the scene, a young Heinrich Schütz arrived in Venice to study with Giovanni Gabrieli (nephew of Andrea whom you heard earlier). Under Giovanni’s tutelage, Schütz soon brought forth his debut publication: a book of Italian madrigals. These demonstrate both the influence of his ageing teacher, who demanded mastery of traditional counterpoint, and the new and adventurous sounds Schütz was hearing in Venice at the time. Like Monteverdi, Schütz makes use of raw dissonance in Dunque addio, care selve to communicate the pain in the poetry, but with a heavier hand: on the words “fero ingiusto e crudo” (unjust and violent iron) resolution is denied almost to the limit of the singers’ breath. Couched in an otherwise meticulous contrapuntal framework, the effect is a luxury of anguish.

Perhaps more than any other composer, the name of Carlo Gesualdo has become a buzzword in Renaissance vocal music. Although he was not alone in this, his use of chromatic harmonic shifts is stunningly disorienting to an ear accustomed to more typical Renaissance polyphony (or your average rock and roll ballad!) Gesualdo’s late compositions are among the most visceral illustrations of the notion that contrapuntal crudity could be justified for the sake of expression. From the opening passage of Asciugate i begli occhi, one feels as though one has gone down the rabbit hole to a place where the poet’s agony demands complete subversion of harmonic progression.

And now for something completely different. Madrigal Comedies were large collections of madrigals, often connected by plot, and featuring the stock characters of the commedia dell’arte. In this context, “comedy” refers to the literary triumph of happiness over adversity, but there was also plenty of unapologetic silliness to be enjoyed by singer and listener alike. Adriano Banchieri’s Il festino nella sera di giovedi grasso avanti cena (Pre-prandial entertainment on the eve of Carnival Thursday) falls in the cracks between drama and parlour entertainment: it is not always clear whether the singers are characters, or simply themselves having a good time. In Banchieri’s own words, this music was intended “for no other end than to pass the hours of leisure.” Gioco del Conte, in which the singers literally play a game to pass the time, gets the job done. The Canzonetta da Bambini from Giovanni Croce’s Triaca Musicale is even more tongue-in-cheek, with all manner of tomfoolery and naughty references galore. The ABCs...who knew?

Spente eran nel mio cor l’antiche fiamme is the central piece in the remarkable second book of madrigals by Giovanni Valentini. This collection is equally interesting for its rich chromaticism and virtuosic vocal writing that stretches each voice to the limit of range and agility. Valentini served at the Graz court Kapellmeister to Archduke Ferdinand of Inner Austria, where he had access to a “clavicymbalum universale” – an enharmonic harpsichord boasting 77 keys for its four-octave keyboard (a modern piano only has 44 keys for the same span!) which allowed for much further-ranging chromatic exploration within music involving the harpsichord. Composed on an epic scale in three parts, Spente eran unfolds in large, sweeping gestures, with moments of incredibly modern harmony alongside passages of smooth, stile antico counterpoint that would have made Willaert proud.

Sigismondo d’India was a chameleon of late madrigal technique and expression. Scholars have compared his harmonic daring to Gesualdo, his use of texture to Marenzio, and his melody and treatment of dissonance to Monteverdi, but the character of his music is more than a collage of these other composers’ styles. Whilst listening to d’India, it is easy to experience a sense of historical suspension. When are we? To his Dispietata pietate from his third book, published in 1615, we give pride of place as the quintessential example of everything our concerned Venetian feared: impassioned outbursts, breathless suspensions, and scintillating harmonies just familiar enough to disarm the ear and render it susceptible to the new, dark, and outrageous.

In the words of musicologist Geoffrey Chew, Monteverdi’s music “sums up the late Renaissance...while at the same time summing up much of the early Baroque. And in one respect in particular, his achievement was enduring: the effective projection of human emotions in music.” The Lamento della Ninfa from Monteverdi’s eighth book is a madrigal in name, but it has more in common with an aria from one of

Monteverdi’s operas, and stands at the opposite end of the spectrum from Willaert where we began. With the start of the lament’s repetitive four-note ground bass, we step fully into the world of early Baroque solo song and the complete realization of the new style: the nymph’s words and emotions have liberated themselves entirely from the restraints of traditional counterpoint. The result is the compelling transparency and expressive immediacy of popular music. The era and genre are irrelevant: we all recognize a torch singer with her back-up band.

We apologize if you were offended by tonight’s concert. The stuff youth is listening to these days, is it even music? We’ll tell you what it is: it’s trouble! To quote again our concerned citizen of Venice, “sometimes one is led away to dark places to shameful and outrageous actions.” Do be careful tonight, and if you do anything you later regret...blame the music.

©Bier 2017

TEXTS AND TRANSLATIONS

Giunto m'à Amor – Nulla posso levar
(Francesco Petrarca, Sonnet 171 from Canzoniere)

Giunto m’à Amor fra belle et crude braccia,
che m’ancidono a torto; et s’io mi doglio,
doppia ’l martir; onde pur, com’io soglio,
il meglio è ch’io mi mora amando, et taccia:

ché poria questa il Ren qualor piú agghiaccia
arder con gli occhi, et rompre ogni aspro scoglio;
et à sí egual a le bellezze orgoglio,
che di piacer altrui par che le spiaccia.

Nulla posso levar io per mi’ ’ngegno
del bel diamante, ond’ell’à il cor sí duro;
l’altro è d’un marmo che si mova et spiri:

ned ella a me per tutto ’l suo disdegno
torrà già mai, né per sembiante oscuro,
le mie speranze, e i miei dolci sospiri.

Love has caught me in a lovely harsh embrace,
That kills unjustly: and if I complain
He doubles my hurt: then it's better to be
As I used to, dying of love and silent.

She'd burn the Rhine however deeply frozen
With her eyes, and shatter all its sharp rocks:
And she has pride equal to her beauty,
So that she regrets pleasing others.

I cannot soften that lovely diamond
With my wit, or that heart so hard:
The rest is marble that moves and breathes:

Nor with all her disdain, nor her dark looks,
Can she ever take my hope away from me,
Nor ever take away my sweet sighs.

Sopra la morte d’Adriano
(‘Manoli Blessi’, or Antonio Molino)

Sassi, palae, sabbion del Adrian lio:
Alleghe, zoncchi, herbazi chie la stèu,
Velme, barene, chie scundèu
L'ostregha, 'l cappa e'l passerin polio;
E vui del valle pesci e d'ogni rio
E del mar, grandi e pizuli chie sèu,
Scombri, chieppe, sardun, chie drio tirèu,
Le syrene, dunzell'e ch'a mario;

E vu, fiume, chie dèu tributo al mari,
Piave, Ladese, Po, Sil, Brenta et Ogio,
Vegnì cha tutti canti a lagrimari
La morte d'Adrian, del chal me dogio,
Chie no'l porà mie versi plio lustrari
Cu'l dulce canto chie rumpre ogni scogio.
O megàlos cordogio!
Del mundo tutto, chy sarà mo chello
Chie in armonia del par vaga cun ello?

O rocks, piles, sandbanks of the Adriatic shore;
sea-weeds, reeds, grasses that are there;
islets, marshes, cays that hide
the oyster, the cockle and the gentle flounder;
and you, fish of the valley and of every stream
and of the sea, whether large or small;
mackerel, shad, anchovies that pass this way;
sirens, both maidens and married;

And you, rivers that pay tribute to the sea,
Piave, Adige, Po, Sile, Brenta and Oglio,
come hither every one to lament
the death of Adrian, for whom I mourn,
who can no longer set my verses to music
with the sweetest song that shatters every reef.
Oh great sorrow!
In the whole world, who will now be the one
who can emulate him in harmony?

Spente eran nel mio cor l’antiche fiamme
(Giacomo Sannazzaro)

Spente eran nel mio cor l’antiche fiamme,
ed a sì lunga e sì continua guerra
dal mio nemico omai sperava pace;
quando all’uscir delle dilette selve
mi sentii ritener da un forte laccio,
per cui cangiar conviemmi e vita e stile.

Lingua non porria mai narrar né stile,
quante spine pungenti e quante fiamme
eran d’intorno al periglioso laccio:
ond’io scorgendo i segni d’altra guerra,
pensai di rimboscarmi alle mie selve,
tosto che disperai d’impetrar pace.

O fere stelle, omai datemi pace,
e tu, Fortuna, muta il crudo stile:
rendetemi a’ pastori ed alle selve,
al cantar primo, a quell’usate fiamme;
ch’io non son forte a sostener la guerra
ch’Amor mi fa col suo spietato laccio.

Extinguished in my heart were the old flames
And from so long and continuous war
from my enemy I was hoping for peace;
When, while leaving the beloved woods
I felt myself restrained by a strong snare,
Which moved me to change my life and my style.

My tongue can never tell, nor my style,
How many piercing thorns, how many flames
there were around that perilous snare:
whence I, descrying the signs of another war,
Thought to take refuge again in my woods,
As soon as I despaired of obtaining peace.

O cruel stars, now give me peace,
And you, Fortune, change your cruel style:
give me back to the shepherds and the woods,
To my first song, to those accustomed flames;
For I am not strong enough to sustain the war
That Cupid wages on me with his merciless snare.

Hor che la vaga Aurora

Hor che la vaga Aurora
Sovra un caro di foco
Appar in ogni loco
Co'l figlio di Latona
Che'l suo dorato crine
À l'Alpi e à le campagne a noi vicine
Mostra con dolci accenti
Questi la ben temprata lira suona
Onde gli spirti pellegrini intenti
Odono l'armonia
Che l'alme nostre al ciel erg'et invia.

Now the lovely Dawn
Upon a chariot of fire
Appears in all places
With the son of Latona
Who shows his golden hair
To the Alps and to the countryside near to us,
And with these sweet tones
Plays his well-tuned lyre
Whereby the wandering spirits intently
Hear the harmony
That raises and sends our souls to heaven.

Lamento della Ninfa
(Ottavio Rinuccini)

Non havea Febo ancora
recato al mondo il dì
ch'una donzella fuora
del proprio albergo uscì.

Sul pallidetto volto
scorgease il suo dolor,
spesso gli venia sciolto
un gran sospir dal cor.

Sì calpestando fiori,
errava hor qua, hor là,
i suoi perduti amori
così piangendo va:

"Amor," dicea, il ciel
mirando il piè fermò
"dove, dov'è la fé
che 'l traditor giurò?

Fa che ritorni il mio
amor com'ei pur fu,
o tu m'ancidi, ch'io
non mi tormenti più."

Miserella, ah più no,
tanto gel soffrir non può.

"Non vo' più ch'ei sospiri
se non lontan da me,
no, no, che i suoi martiri
più non dirammi, affé!

Perché di lui mi struggo
tutt'orgoglioso sta,
che sì, che sì se 'l fuggo
ancor mi pregherà?

Se ciglio ha più sereno
colei che 'l mio non è,
già non rinchiude in seno
Amor si bella fé.

Né mai si dolci baci
da quella bocca havrai,
né più soavi; ah, taci,
taci, che troppo il sai."

Sì tra sdegnosi pianti
spargea le voci al ciel;
così ne' cori amanti
mesce Amor fiamma e gel.

The Sun had not brought
The day to the world yet,
When a maiden
Went out of her dwelling.

On her pale face
Grief could be seen,
Often from her heart
A deep sigh was drawn.

Thus, treading upon flowers,
She wandered, now here, now there,
And lamented her lost loves
Like this:

“O Love” she said,
Gazing at the sky, as she stood
“Where's the fidelity
That the deceiver promised?”

“Make my love come back
As he used to be
Or kill me, so that
I will not suffer anymore.”

(Poor her! She cannot bear
All this coldness!)

“I don't want him to sigh any longer
But if he's far from me.
No! He will not make me suffer
Anymore, I swear!”

“He's proud
Because I languish for him.
Perhaps if I fly away from him
He will come to pray to me again.”

“If her eyes are more serene
Than mine,
O Love, she does not hold in her heart
A fidelity so pure as mine.”

“And you will not receive from those lips
Kisses as sweet as mine,
Nor softer. Oh, don't speak!
Don't speak! you know better than that!”

So amidst disdainful tears,
She spread her crying to the sky;
Thus, in the lovers' hearts
Love mixes fire and ice.

Canzonetta da Bambini
(Triaca musicale)

Andemo à scuola, putti.
Checchin, Momolo, e ti, caro Zisetto,
sentiu quel che dise Perinetto?
Che nostro Misier Pare,
mo co Madonna Mare,
i ha ditt’alla Mistra che ne daga
co’andemo tardi un caval senza braga.
Andemo via, cantando.
Oseleto salt’in Chebetta.
Dime il ver, che nave è questa?
Nò, nò disemo st’altra
Bragon è andà in palazzo
co la spada sott’il brazzo
per farse far rason.
I ha ligà pià Bragon.
La canzon è finial.
Bondì Madonna Mistra, e la compagnia.

Hora che semo à scuola,
Tutti co la so tola
Dalla Mistra davanti
Andemo, tutti quanti!
Di’, Momolo ,e con ti dirà Zisetto;
di’ ti Peri, Checchin, di’ ti Marchetto.
Hor tutti à gara,
comenza à recitar.
Madonna Mistra cara
ne fazza ben’imparar.
ABCDEFGHIKLMNOPQRSTVXZ,
et, con, ron!
Dà da bever al pover hom.

[Men:] Let's go to school, little boys.
Little Jacob, Graham, and you, dear little Robin,
did you hear what little Clifton said?
That our noble 'father',
just now with madam 'mother',
has told the teacher to give us
a good spanking if we come late.
Let's walk, singing.
'A little bird jumped into a little cage.
Tell me the truth, what boat is this?'
No, no, let's do this other one:
'Big Britches has gone to the palace
with his sword under his arm
to get satisfaction.
They have tied up Big Britches.'
The song is finished.
Good day Madam Teacher, and the class.

Now that we are at school, everyone with his desk
in front of the teacher, let's go, everybody!
[Miss Beebe:] Graham, say it with little Robin;
you say it with Clifton, little Jacob, and you, Eric.
Now everybody in a contest,
begin to recite.
[Men:] Dear madam teacher
make us learn well. ABCDEFGHIKLMNOPQRSTVXYZ,
et, cum, orum!
Now give a poor man a drink.

Io mi son giovinetta
(anonymous, after Giovanni Boccaccio)

«Io mi son giovinetta,
e rido e canto alla stagion novella»,
cantava la mia dolce pastorella,
quando subitamente
a quel canto il cor mio cantò
quasi augellin vago e ridente:
«Son giovinetto anch’io,
e rido e canto alla gentil e bella
primavera d’Amore
che ne’ begli occhi tuoi fiorisce».
Ed ella:
«Fuggi, se saggio sei (disse) l’ardore,
fuggi, ch’in questi rai
primavera per te non sarà mai».

“I am young,
and I laugh and sing to the new season”
sang my sweet shepherdess,
when suddenly
in response to this song my own heart sang,
as a joyfully winging bird:
"I too am young,
and I laugh and sing to the gentle and beautiful spring of Love
that blossoms in your lovely eyes."
And she: "Flee, if you are wise," said she,
"from this ardor, flee, for in these eyes
it will never be springtime for you.”

Sfogava con le stelle
(Ottavio Rinuccini)

Sfogava con le stelle
un infermo d’amore
sotto notturno cielo
il suo dolore.
E dicea fisso in loro:
«O imagini belle
de l’idol mio ch’adoro,
sì com’a me mostrate
mentre così splendete
la sua rara beltate,
così mostraste a lei
i vivi ardori miei:
la fareste col vostr’aureo sembiante
pietosa sì come me fate amante».

Crying to the stars,
a love-sick man
spoke of his grief
beneath the night sky.
And he said, whilst gazing at them:
“Oh, lovely images
of my idol that I adore,
if only, as you show me,
as you shine,
her rare beauty,
you could show to her
my ardent flames,
with your golden look you would make her
compassionate, just as you compel me to love.”

S’un sguardo un fa beato

S’un sguardo un fa beato
Hor qual fosse il mio stato, amanti, udite,
Quand’involai con queste labbia ardite
Un dolce..., ahi, nol vo’ dire;
Ch’ella non se n’adire.

If in looking one can be blessed,
Then imagine my state – lovers, hear! –
When I stole with these bold lips
A sweet...... ah, I cannot tell you;
Lest she be angry.

Dispietata pietate
(Torquato Tasso, from Aminta)

AMINTA: Dispietata pietate
fu la tua veramente, o Dafne, all'hora
che ritenesti il dardo;
però che 'l mio morire
più amaro sarà, quanto più tardo.
Ed or perché m'avvolgi
per si diverse strade e per si varii
ragionament’in vano?
Di che temi?
Temi ch'io non m'uccida?
Temi del mio bene?
Deh, lasciami morir in tante pene.

AMINTAS: Devoid of pity,
were you truly, Dafne,
when you withheld the dart:
because when my death comes,
more bitter it will be, the more delayed it is.
And why are you embroiling me,
in such diverse ways and with such varied
reasons, in vain?
What do you fear?
Do you fear I will not kill myself?
Do you fear my love?
Alas, let me die in such great pain.

Dunque addio, care selve
(Giovanni Battista Guarini, Il Pastor Fido, Atto IV, scene v)

Dunque addio, care selve,
care mie selve addio,
ricevete questi ultimi sospiri,
finché sciolta da ferro ingiusto e crudo
torni la mia fredd'ombra
alle vostr'ombre amate,
che nel penoso inferno
non può gir innocente,
né può star tra beati
disperata e dolente.

Therefore farewell, dear forests,
farewell my dear woods,
receive these my last sighs,
until, released from unjust and violent iron,
my cold shadow returns
to your beloved shades,
which in excruciating hell
can no longer rediscover innocence
nor any longer remain blessed,
despairing and woeful.

Asciugate I begli occhi

Asciugate I begli occhi,
Deh, corm io, non piangete
Se lontano da voi gir mi vedete!
Ahi, che pianger debb’io misero e solo,
Ché partendo da voi m’uccide il duolo.

Dry those lovely eyes,
ah, my love, do not weep,
if, far from you, you see me wandering.
Alas, that I must weep alone and in misery,
for in leaving you, the pain kills me.

Gioco del conte

Propone un bel bisticcio il dolce umore;
poi lascia star sonando le tre ore.'

— Per seguitar lo spasso in questo loco,
belle signore, su, facciamo un gioco.
— Tutte concordemente unite siamo:
voi principiate e noi vi sequitiamo.
— Su facciamne un bello,
— Che gioco sarà questo?
per chi starà in cervello.
Spediteci su, presto!
— Quattro versi dirò speditamente:
voi replicate senza intoppar niente.
— Dite su, che siam leste
per rispondervi, e preste.
— "Sopra il ponte a fronte del fonte vi stava un
cadde il ponte nel fonte e il conte si ruppe il
fronte".
— Siete troppo vivace!
Più adagio se vi piace!
— "Sopra il ponte a fronte del fonte vi stava un
fronte".
cadde il ponte nel fonte e il conte si ruppe il
— "Sopra il ponte a fronte
del conte vi stava un ponte..."
— Non sete in segno, ponete un pegno.
— "Sopra il fonte a ponte conte..."
— Ponete un pegno.
(Campana)
— E una...E due...E tre...
— Tre ore sono a fé!

— To pass the time while we’re here,
lovely ladies, hey, let's play a game.
— We all agree:
you start and we'll follow you.
— Here's a good one,
let's see who can do it.
— What’s the game? Come on, tell us!
— We'll say a tongue-twister;
you have to repeat it without a mistake.
— Go on, then, we’re ready
to answer, go on!
— “Upon the bridge over the fountain there stood a
count: the bridge fell in the fountain and the count
bonked his head.”
— That’s too fast! Slower, please!
— “Uponthebridgeoverthefountaintherestooda
count:thebridgefellinthefountainandthecount
bonked his head.”
— “On the bridge in count's fountain stood a head...”
— Wrong, now you have to pay a forfeit.”
— “On the fountain...bridge...count...?”
— Pay up!
(Clock chimes)
— That's one . . .That's two. . .That's three...
— It's three o’clock at last!

Cedan l’antiche tue chiare vittorie

Cedan l’antiche tue chiare vittorie
Regina ancor del mond’altiera Roma
Ei grand’archi che’l tempo anco non doma
S’inchinin con le lor alte memorie.

Cantin novi poemi e nov’historie
De'tuoi novi trofie la nobil soma
E cinga quella venerabil chioma
Nove ghirlande di perpetue glorie.

Mentre novella alma Vittoria intorno
Di numero infinito il carro cinto
Di cori e d’alme in bel trionfo mena.

Gl’occhi sonl’armi e più d’una catena
Son le sue treccie, o fortunato giorno
Ch’io venni e vidi e restai preso e vinto.

Let your past illustrious victories surrender,
Queen of the world still, haughty Rome,
and let the grand arches that time has not yet
broken bow down with their high memories.

Let new poems and new stories sing
of the noble burden of your fresh triumphs,
and let new garlands of undying glory
encircle those venerable locks.

While the new soul Vittoria leads
the chariot girdled by an infinite number
of choirs and souls in beautiful triumph.

Her eyes are weapons, and more than a chain
are her tresses. O happy day
when I came, and saw, and was conquered.