Brent Byhre
baritone
Elizaveta Auvil, piano
Senior Recital
Monday, March 31, 2014
7:30 pm
Recital Hall, Music Building
Program
Vaghissima sembianza Stephano Donaudy
Come L’allodoletta (1879-1925)
Ständchen Franz Schubert
(1797-1828)
Der arme Peter Robert Schumann
I – Der Hans und die Grete tanzen herum (1810-1856)
II – In meiner Brust da sitzt ein Weh
III – Der arme Peter wankt vorbei
Zueignung Richard Strauss
(1864-1949)
My Life’s Delight Roger Quilter
Autumn Evening (1877-1953)
Go, Lovely Rose
Intermission
Le Colibri Ernest Chausson
(1855-1899)
Automne Gabriel Fauré
(1845-1924)
L’Heure Exquise Reynaldo Hahn
(1874-1947)
Shenandoah Steve Montague
Jesse Herndon, tenor; Wilson Brooks, baritone;
Austin Jefferies, bass
from Camelot Lerner and Loewe
C’est Moi
from You’re a Good Man, Charlie Brown Clark Gesner
The Kite (1938-2002)
from South Pacific Rogers and Hammerstein
Some Enchanted Evening
from Parade Jason Robert Brown
It’s Hard to Speak My Heart (b.1970)
________
Brent Byhre is a student of Dr. Robert Wells and Ms. Bridget Moriarty
Stephano Donaudy:
Vaghissima Sembianza
Text by Alberto Donaudy (1880-1941)
Vaghissima sembianza d'antica donna
amata,
chi, dunque, v'ha ritratta contanta
simiglianza
ch'io guardo, e parlo, e credo d'avervi a me
davanti come ai bei dì d'amor?
La cara rimembranza che in cor mi s'è
destatasi
ardente v'ha già fatta rinascer la speranza,
che un bacio, un voto, un grido d'amore
più non chiedo che a lei che muta è ognor.
Come L’allodoletta
Text by Alberto Donaudy (1880-1941)
Come l'allodoletta per li prati,
così fugge la pace e l'allegranza
da un cor gentile in cui sol regna amore!
Passa ogni gioia, passa ogni dolzore
da un cor gentile in cui sol regna amore;
e l'alma che ne sente la gravanza,
sen' muore di gelo come un fior!
Franz Schubert:
Ständchen
Text by Ludwig Rellstab (1799-1860)
Leise flehen meine Lieder
Durch die Nacht zu dir;
In den stillen Hain hernieder,
Liebchen, komm zu mir!
Flüsternd schlanke Wipfel rauschen
In des Mondes Licht;
Des Verräters feindlich Lauschen
Fürchte, Holde, nicht.
Hörst die Nachtigallen schlagen?
Ach! sie flehen dich,
Mit der Töne süßen Klagen
Flehen sie für mich.
Sie verstehn des Busens Sehnen,
Kennen Liebesschmerz,
Rühren mit den Silbertönen
Jedes weiche Herz.
Laß auch dir die Brust bewegen,
Liebchen, höre mich!
Very Charming Image
Very charming image of a woman formerly
loved,
who, then, has portrayed you with so much
similarity
that I look, and I speak, and I believe to
have you before me as in the beautiful days
of love?
The dear remembrance which has been
awakened
in my heart so ardently has revived my
hopes,
so that a kiss, a vow, a cry of love?
More I do not ask of her who is silent
forever.
Like the little skylark
Like the little skylark through the
meadows,
So flee peace and happiness
From a gentle heart in which love rules
alone!
Every joy, every sweetness passes
From a gentle heart in which love rules
alone;
And the soul which feels the weight of it
Dies of cold like a flower!
Serenade
My songs beckon softly
through the night to you;
below in the quiet grove,
Come to me, beloved!
The rustle of slender leaf tips whispers
in the moonlight;
Do not fear the evil spying
of the betrayer, my dear.
Do you hear the nightingales call?
Ah, they beckon to you,
With the sweet sound of their singing
they beckon to you for me.
They understand the heart's longing,
know the pain of love,
They calm each tender heart
with their silver tones.
Let them also stir within your breast,
beloved, hear me!
Bebend harr' ich dir entgegen!
Komm, beglücke mich!
Robert Schumann:
Der arme Peter
Text by Heinrich Heine (1797-1856)
I–Der Hans und die Grete tanzen herum
Der Hans und die Grete tanzen herum,
Und jauchzen vor lauter Freude.
Der Peter steht so still und so stumm,
Und ist so blaß wie Kreide.
Der Hans und die Grete sind Bräut’gam
und Braut,!
Und blitzen im Hochzeitsgeschmeide.!
Der arme Peter die Nägel kaut
!Und geht im Werkeltagkleide.
Der Peter spricht leise vor sich her,!
Und schauet betrübet auf beide:!
“Ach! wenn ich nicht gar zu vernünftig
wär’,
!Ich täte mir was zuleide.“
II – In meiner Brust da sitzt ein Weh
“In meiner Brust, da sitzt ein Weh,
Das will die Brust zersprengen;
Und wo ich steh’ und wo ich geh’,
Will’s mich von hinnen drängen.”
Es treibt mich nach der Liebsten Näh’,!
Als könnt die Grete heilen;
!Doch wenn ich der ins Auge seh,!
Muß ich von hinnen eilen.
“Ich steig hinauf des Berges Höh,!
Dort ist man doch alleine;!
Und wenn ich still dort oben steh’,
!Dann steh’ ich still und weine.”
III - Der arme Peter wankt vorbei
Der arme Peter wankt vorbei,
Gar langsam, leichenblaß und scheu.
Es bleiben fast, wie sie ihn seh’n,
Die Leute auf den Straßen steh’n.
Die Mädchen flüstern sich ins Ohr:!
“Der stieg wohl aus dem Grab hervor.”!
Ach nein, ihr lieben Jungfräulein,!
Der steigt erst in das Grab hinein.
Er hat verloren seinen Schatz,!
Drum ist das Grab der beste Platz,!
Wo er am besten liegen mag!
Und schlafen bis zum Jüngsten Tag.
Trembling I wait for you,
Come, please me!
Poor Peter
I
Hans and Grete dance about
and shout aloud for joy.
Peter stands so still and mute,
and is all white as chalk.
Hans and Grete are bridegroom and bride,!
glittering in wedding finery.!
Poor Peter bites his nails
!and wears his working clothes.
Peter says softly to himself,!
sadly eyeing the pair:!
“Ah! if I weren’t so level-headed,
!I’d do myself a mischief.”
II
“Within my breast lies a woe
that will break my heart asunder:
wherever I stay, wherever I go,
it drives me ever onward.
“It drives me to be near my love,!
as if Grete could heal my woe,!
yet when I look into her eyes!
I’m forced to hurry away.
“I climb to the mountain’s crest,
!for there one is alone;!
and when I stand quietly up there,!
then I stand silent and weep.”
III
Poor Peter staggers by
very slowly, deathly pale and shy:
The people in the street
almost stop dead when they see him.
Girls whisper in each other’s ear:!
“He must have risen from the grave.”!
Ach no, dear young ladies,!
in his grave he’s about to lie.
He has lost his sweetheart,
!and so the grave is the best place!
where he best may lie!
and sleep until the Day of Judgement.
Richard Strauss:
Zueignung
Text by Hermann Von Gilm (1812-1864)
Ja, du weißt es, teure Seele,
Daß ich fern von dir mich quäle,
Liebe macht die Herzen krank,
Habe Dank.
Einst hielt ich, der Freiheit Zecher,
Hoch den Amethysten-Becher,
Und du segnetest den Trank,
Habe Dank.
Und beschworst darin die Bösen,
Bis ich, was ich nie gewesen,
Heilig heilig, ans Herz2 dir sank,
Habe Dank.
Ernest Chausson:
Le Colibri
Text by Leconte de Lisle (1818-1894)
Le vert colibri, le roi des collines,
Voyant la rosée et le soleil clair,
Luire dans son nid tissé d'herbes fines,
Comme un frais rayon s'échappe dans l'air.
Il se hâte et vole aux sources voisines,
Où les bambous font le bruit de la mer,
Où l'açoka rouge aux odeurs divines
S'ouvre et porte au coeur un humide éclair.
Vers la fleur dorée, il descend, se pose,
Et boit tant d'amour dans la coupe rose,
Qu'il meurt, ne sachant s'il l'a pu tarir!
Sur ta lèvre pure, ô ma bien-aimée,
Telle aussi mon âme eut voulu mourir,
Du premier baiser qui l'a parfumée.
Gabriel Fauré:
Automne
Text by Armand Silvestre (1837-1901)
Automne au ciel brumeux, aux horizons
navrants.
Aux rapides couchants, aux aurores pâlies,
Je regarde couler, comme l'eau du torrent,
Tes jours faits de mélancolie.
Dedication
Ah, you know it, dear soul,
That, far from you , I languish,
Love causes hearts to ache,
To you my thanks!
Once, drinking to freedon,
I raised the amethyst cup,
And you blessed the drink,
To you my thanks!
You exorcised the evil spirits in it,
So that I, as never before,
Cleansed and freed, sank upon your breast,
To you my thanks!
The Hummingbird
The hummingbird,
the green prince of the heights,
feeling the dew
and seeing the sun's clear light
shining into his nest of woven grass,
shoots up in the air like a gleaming dart.
Hurriedly he flies to the nearby marsh
where the waves
of bamboo rustle and bend,
and the red hibiscus
with the heavenly scent
opens to show its moist
and glistening heart.
Down to the flower he flies,
alights from above,
and from the rosy cup drinks so much love
that he dies, not knowing
if he could drink it dry.
On your pure lips, oh my beloved,
my soul likewise would have sooner died,
from the first kiss which has perfumed it.
Autumn
Autumn of misty skies, of heart breaking
horizons,
Of swift sunsets, of pale dawns,
I watch flow by, like torrential water,
Your days filled with melancholy.
Sur l'aile des regrets mes esprits emportés,
Comme s'il se pouvait que notre âge
renaisse!
Parcourent, en rêvant, les coteaux
enchantés,
Où jadis sourit ma jeunesse.
Je sens, au clair soleil du souvenir
vainqueur,
Refleurir en bouquet les roses deliées,
Et monter à mes yeux des larmes, qu'en
mon coeur,
Mes vingt ans avaient oubliées!
Reynoldo Hahn:
L’Heure Exquise
Text by Paul Verlaine (1844-1896)
La lune blanche
Luit dans les bois;
De chaque branche
Part une voix Sous la ramée...
Ô bien aimée.
L'étang reflète,
Profond miroir,
La silhouette
Du saule noir
Où le vent pleure...
Rêvons, c'est l'heure.
Un vaste et tendre
Apaisement
Semble descendre
Du firmament
Que l'astre irise...
C'est l'heure exquise.
My spirits, borne away
on the wings of regrets,
As if it our life could be reborn!
Wander, while dreaming,
over the enchanted hills,
Where once smiled my youth.
I feel, in the bright sunlight
of memory triumphant,
Flowering again in bouquets
the roses united,
And some tears well up in my eyes,
which my heart,
In its twenty years had forgotten!
The Exquisite Hour
The white moon
Shines in the woods;
From each branch
Comes a voice beneath the boughs…
Oh, my beloved.
Like a deep mirror
The pond reflects
The silhouette
Of the black willow
Where the wind weeps.
Let us dream, it is the hour.
A vast and tender
Calm
Seems to descend
From the sky
Made iridescent by the moon.
It is the exquisite hour.
