MacKenzie Ellis
soprano
Elizaveta Auvil, piano
Senior Recital
Friday, March 20, 2014
5:30 pm
Recital Hall, Music Building
Program
from Joshua (1747) George Friedrich Handel
Oh Had I Jubal’s Lyre (1685-1759)
Mi lagnero tacendo Gioacchino Rossini
Il Rimprovero (1792-1868)
Aragonese
Chanson triste Henri Duparc
Phidylé (1848-1933)
Au pays où se fait la guerre
Pause
Mausfallen Sprüchlein Hugo Wolf
Ich hab‘ in Penna einen Liebsten (1860-1903)
Mühvoll komm‘ ich und beladen
Здесь хорошо (How fair this spot!) Sergei Rachmaninoff
В молчаньи ночи тайной (In the Silent Night) (1873-1943)
Весенние воды (Spring Waters)
from Wonderful Town (1953) Leonard Bernstein
A Little Bit in Love (1918-1990)
from Little Women (2005) Jason Howland
A Little Bit in Love (b. 1971)
The Girl in 14G (2000) Jeanine Tesori
(b. 1961)
MacKenzie Ellis is a student of Professor Levone Tobin-Scott
________
In partial fulfillment of the degree requirements for the
Bachelor of Music in Performance
George Friedrich Handel:
Oh Had I Jubal’s Lyre
From Joshua
Oh, had I Jubal's lyre,
Or Miriam's tuneful voice!
To sounds like his I would aspire,
In songs like hers rejoice.
My humble strains but faintly show,
How much to Heav'n and thee I owe.
Gioacchino Rossini:
Mi lagnero tacendo
Il Rimprovero
Aragonese
Text by Pietro Metastasio (1698-1782)
Mi lagnerò tacendo
Della mia sorte amara
Ah! Ma ch’io non t’ami, o cara,
Non lo sperar da me
Crudel! In che t’offesi
Farmi penar così
Perchè?
In My Silence
The Reproach
Aragonese
In my silence, I will complain
About my bitter fate
Ah! But to not love you, dear,
Do not wish to obtain that from me
Cruel one! Why do you still
Let me suffer like this?
Why?
Henri Duparc:
Chanson triste
Text by Henri Cazalis (1840-1909)
Dans ton coeur dort un clair de lune,
Un doux clair de lune d'été,
Et pour fuir la vie importune,
Je me noierai dans ta clarté.
J'oublierai les douleurs passées,
Mon amour, quand tu berceras
Mon triste coeur et mes pensées
Dans le calme aimant de tes bras.
Tu prendras ma tête malade,
Oh ! quelquefois sur tes genoux,
Et lui diras une ballade
Qui semblera parler de nous ;
Et dans tes yeux pleins de tristesse,
Dans tes yeux alors je boirai
Tant de baisers et de tendresses
Que peut-être je guérirai.
Phidylé
Text by Charles Marie René Leconte de
Lisle (1818-1894)
L'herbe est molle au sommeil sous les
frais peupliers,
Aux pentes des sources moussues,
Qui dans les prés en fleur germant
par mille issues,
Se perdent sous les noirs halliers.
Sad Song
In your heart moonlight lies dormant,
A gentle moonlight of summer;
And [far from]1 the troubles of life,
I will [lose]2 myself in your brightness.
I will forget past griefs,
My love, when you rock
My unhappy heart and my thoughts
In the loving tranquility of your arms.
You will lay my anxious head,
Oh! - [some evenings]3 - upon your lap,
And you will utter to it a ballad
That will seem to speak of us;
And from your eyes so full of sadness,
From your eyes I will then drink
So many kisses and so much tenderness
That perhaps at last I will be healed.
Phidylé
The grass is soft for slumber beneath the
fresh poplars,
on the slopes by the mossy springs,
which, in the meadows flowering
with a thousand plants,
lose themselves under dark thickets.
Repose, ô Phidylé! Midi sur
les feuillages Rayonne
et t'invite au sommeil.
Par le trèfle et le thym, seules,
en plein soleil,
Chantent les abeilles volages.
Un chaud parfum circule au détour des
sentiers,
La rouge fleur des blés s'incline,
Et les oiseaux,
rasant de l'aile la colline,
Cherchent l'ombre des églantiers.
Mais, quand l'Astre,
incliné sur sa courbe éclatante,
Verra ses ardeurs s'apaiser,
Que ton plus beau sourire
et ton meilleur baiser
Me récompensent de l'attente!
Au pays où se fait la guerre
Text by Pierre Jules Théophile Gautier
(1811-1872)
Au pays où se fait la guerre
Mon bel ami s'en est allé ;
Il semble à mon coeur désolé
Qu'il ne reste que moi sur terre !
En partant, au baiser d'adieu,
Il m'a pris mon âme à ma bouche.
Qui le tient si longtemps, mon Dieu ?
Voilà le soleil qui se couche,
Et moi, toute seule en ma tour,
J'attends encore son retour.
Les pigeons sur le toit roucoulent,
Roucoulent amoureusement ;
Avec un son triste et charmant
Les eaux sous les grands saules coulent.
Je me sens tout près de pleurer ;
Mon coeur comme un lis plein s'épanche,
Et je n'ose plus espérer.
Voici briller la lune blanche,
Et moi, toute seule en ma tour,
J'attends encore son retour.
Quelqu'un monte à grands pas la rampe :
Serait-ce lui, mon doux amant ?
Ce n'est pas lui, mais seulement
Mon petit page avec ma lampe.
Vents du soir, volez, dites-lui
Qu'il est ma pensée et mon rêve,
Toute ma joie et mon ennui.
Voici que l'aurore se lève,
Et moi, toute seule en ma tour,
J'attends encore son retour.
Rest, o Phidylé! the midday sun shines on
the foliage
and invites you to sleep!
Among clover and thyme, alone,
in full sunlight
hum the fickle honeybees.
A warm fragrance circulates about the
turning paths,
the red cornflower tilts,
and the birds,
skimming the hill with their wings,
search for shade among the wild roses.
But when the sun,
turning in its resplendent orbit,
finds its heat abating,
let your loveliest smile
and your most ardent kiss
reward me for waiting!
To the country where war is waged
To the country where war is waged
My beautiful love departed.
It seems to my desolate heart
That I alone remain on earth.
When leaving, at our kiss goodbye,
He took my soul from my mouth...
Who is holding him back so long, O God?
There is the sun setting.
And I, all alone in my tower,
I still await his return.
The pigeons on the roof are cooing,
Cooing lovingly
With a sad and charming sound;
The waters under the large willows flow...
I feel ready to cry;
My heart, like a full lily, overflows
And I no longer dare to hope.
Here gleams the white moon.
And I, all alone in my tower,
I still await his return.
Someone is climbing the ramp rapidly.
Could it be him, my sweet love?
It isn't him, but only
My little page with my lamp.
Evening winds, veiled, tell him
That he is my thoughts and my dream,
All my joy and my longing.
Here is the dawn rising.
And I, all alone in my tower,
I still await his return.
Hugo Wolf:
Mausfallen Sprüchlein
Text by Eduard Mörike (1804-1875)
Kleine Gäste, kleines Haus.
Liebe Mäusin oder Maus,
Stelle dich nur kecklich ein
Heute nacht bei Mondenschein!
Mach aber die Tür fein hinter dir zu,
Hörst du?
Dabei hüte dein Schwänzchen!
Nach Tische singen wir,
Nach Tische springen wir
Und machen ein Tänzchen:
Witt witt!
Meine alte Katze tanzt wahrscheinlich mit.
Hörst du?
Ich hab’ in Penna einen Liebsten
Text translated by Paul Heyse (1830-1914)
From Italienisches Liederbuch
Ich hab in Penna einen Liebsten wohnen,
In der Maremmeneb'ne einen andern,
Einen im schönen Hafen von Ancona,
Zum Vierten muß ich nach Viterbo
wandern;
Ein Andrer wohnt in Casentino dort,
Der Nächste lebt mit mir am selben Ort,
Und wieder einen hab' ich in Magione,
Vier in La Fratta, zehn in Castiglione.
Mühvoll komm’ ich und beladen
Text by Emanuel Geibel (1815-1884)
Müh'voll komm' ich und beladen,
nimm mich an, du Hort der Gnaden!
Sieh, ich komm' in Tränen heiß
mit demütiger Geberde,
dunkel ganz vom Staub der Erde.
Du nur schaffest, daß ich weiß
wie das Vließ der Lämmer werde.
Tilgen willst du ja den Schaden
dem, der reuig dich umfaßt;
nimm denn, Herr, von mir die Last,
müh'voll komm' ich und beladen.
Laß mich flehend vor dir knie'n,
daß ich über deine Füße
Nardenduft und Tränen gieße,
gleich dem Weib, dem du verzieh'n,
bis die Schuld wie Rauch zerfließe.
Der den Schächer du geladen:
"Heute noch in Edens Bann wirst du sein!"
O nimm mich an, du Hort der Gnaden!
Mouse-Catching Rhyme
Little guests, little house.
Dear Miss or Mister Mouse,
Just boldly present yourself
Tonight in the moonlight!
But shut the door tight behind you,
Do you hear?
And be careful of your tail!
After supper we will sing,
After supper we will jump
And do a little dance;
Witt witt!
My old cat will probably dance with us.
Do you hear?
I Have a Lover Who Lives in Penna
Italian Songbook
I have a lover living in Penna,
Another one in the Maremma plain,
One in the lovely harbor of Ancona,
And for the fourth I must go to Viterbo;
Another one lives in Casentino,
The next lives in the same place as I,
And yet another one have I in Magione,
Four in La Fratta, ten in Castiglione!
Troubled I come, and heavy laden
Full of cares and weighed down I come,
accept me, you refuge of grace!
See, I come in hot tears
with humble gestures,
all black with the dust of earth.
Only you can make me
white as lambs' fleece.
You will truly erase the injuries
of him who, repentant, embraces you;
take then, Lord, from me my burden,
full of cares and weighed down I come.
Let me kneel pleading before you,
that I, on your feet,
may pour spikenard fragrance and tears,
like the woman whom you forgave,
until guilt dissipates like smoke.
You, who invited the thief,
"This day you will be in the realm of Eden!"
accept me, you refuge of grace!
Sergei Rachmaninoff:
Здесь хорошо
Text by Glafira Adol'fovna Galina
(1873-1942)
Здесь хорошо...
Взгляни, вдали
Огнём горит река;
Цветным ковром луга легли,
Белеют облака.
Здесь нет людей...
Здесь тишина...
Здесь только Бог да я.
Цветы, да старая сосна,
Да ты, мечта моя!
В молчаньи ночи тайной
Text by Afanasy Afanas’yevich Fet
(1820-1892)
О, долго буду я, в молчаньи ночи тайной,
Коварный лепет твой, улыбку, взор
случайный,
Перстам послушную волос густую прядь,
Из мыслей изгонять, и снова призывать;
Дыша порывисто, один, никем не зримый,
Досады и стыда румянами палимый,
Искать хотя одной загадочной черты
В словах, которые произносила ты;
Шептать и поправлять былые выраженья
Речей моих с тобой, исполненных смущенья,
И в опьянении, наперекор уму,
Заветным именем будить ночную мглу.
Ещё в полях белеет снег
Text by Fyodor Ivanovich Tyutchev
(1803-1873)
Ещё в полях белеет снег,
А воды уж весной шумят --
Бегут и будят сонный брег,
Бегут, и блещут, и гласят...
Они гласят во все концы:
«Весна идёт, весна идёт!
Мы молодой весны гонцы,
Она нас выслала вперёд.
Весна идёт, весна идёт,
И тихих, теплых майских дней
Румяный, светлый хоровод
Толпится весело за ней!...»
How fair this spot!
Here are all things fine ...
Look off yonder, far away,
With fire, the river comes alight;
Brightly colored meadows,
Clouds turn a brighter white.
Here, none cometh nearby ...
Here is mute tranquility ...
Here are only God and I,
Flowers, yes, this old pine tree,
And you, blest dream of mine!
In the Silent Night
In the silence of the mysterious night,
your alluring babble, smiles and glances,
your fleeting glances, the locks of your rich
hair, locks pliant under your fingertips -
I will long be trying to get rid of the images
only to call them back again;
I will be repeating and correcting, in a
whisper,
the words I've told you, the words full of
awkwardness,
and, drunk with love,
contrary to reason,
I will be awakening the night's darkness
with a cherished name.
Spring Waters
The fields are still covered with white snow.
But the streams are already rolling in a
spring mood,
Running and awakening the sleepy shore,
Running and glittering, announcing loudly.
They’re announcing loudly to every corner:
"Spring is coming, Spring is coming!
We are the messengers of young Spring,
She has sent us to come forward,
Spring is coming, Spring is coming!
And the quiet, warm May days
Follow her, merrily crowded
Into the rosy, bright dancing circle."
Leonard Bernstein:
A Little Bit in Love
From Wonderful Town
Text by Betty Comden (1917-2006) and
Adolph Green (1914-2002)
I’m a little bit in love,
Never felt this way before,
Just a little bit in love,
Or perhaps, I little bit more
When he looks at me
Everything’s hazy and all out of focus
When he touches me
I’m in a spell of a strange hocus pocus
It’s so... I don’t know
I’m so... I don’t
I don’t know, but I know
If it’s love then it’s lovely
It’s so nice to be alive
When you meet someone who bewitches
you
Will he be my all?
Or did I just fall a little bit in love?
Jason Howland:
Some Things are Meant to Be
From Little Women
Text by Mindi Dickstein
Let's pretend we're riding on a kite.
Let's imagine we're flying through the air!
We'll ascend until we're out of sight.
Light as paper, we'll soar!
Let's be wild, up high above the sand,
feel the wind, the world at our command.
Let's enjoy the view, and never land.
Floating far from the shore.
Some things are meant to be,
the clouds moving fast and free.
The sun on a silver sea.
A sky that's bright and blue.
And some things will never end.
The thrill of our magic ride.
The love that I feel inside for you.
We'll climb high beyond the break of day.
Sleep on stardust, and dine on bits of moon
You and I will find the Milky Way.
We'll be mad, and explore.
We'll recline a loft upon the breeze.
Dart about sail on with windy ease.
Pass the days doing only as we please,
that's what living is for.
Some things are meant to be,
the tide turning endlessly,
the way it takes hold of me,
no matter what I do,
and some things will never die,
the promise of who you are,
the memories when I am far from you.
All my life, I've lived for loving you;
let me go now.
Jeanine Tesori:
The Girl in 14G
Text by Dick Scanlan (b. 1960)
Just moved in to 14G
So cozy, calm, and peaceful
Heaven for a mouse like me
With quiet by the lease-full
Pets are banned parties too
And no solicitations
Window seat with garden view
A perfect nook to read a book
I'm lost in my Jane Austen when I hear…
Say it isn't so
Not the flat below
From an opera wanna-be
In 13G
A matinee of some cantata
Wagner’s Ring and Traviata…
My first night in 14G
I’ll put up with Puccini
Brew myself a cup of tea
Crochet until she's fini
Half past eight, not a peep
Except the clock tick-tockin
Now I lay me down to sleep
A comfy bed to rest my head
A stretch, a yawn, I'm almost gone when.
Now the girl upstairs
Wakes me unawares
Blowing down from 15G
Her reveille
She’s scattin’ like her name is Ella
Guess who answers a cappella…
I'm not one to raise my voice,
Make a fuss,
Or speak my mind
But might I query
Would you mind if
Could you kindly
Stop!
That felt good
Stop!
13, 15, 14G
A most unlikely trio
No quite three part harmony
All day and night we're singing…
Stop!
Had my fill of peace and quiet
Shout out loud, "I've changed my diet!"
And all because of 14G
