Meg Buzzard
Soprano
Neal Sharpe, piano
assisted by:
Yana Romanova, flute
Mark Shoun, trombone
Senior Recital
November 21st, 2005
5:30 pm
Organ Hall, School of Music
Program
Sfogava con le stelle Giulio Caccini
(1546-1618)
Sospiri di foco Francesco Cavalli
(1602-1676)
What Thing is Love? John Bartlet
(1551-1625)
Weepe You no More, Sad Fountains John Dowland
(1563-1626)
Fairest Isle (Address to Britain) Henry Purcell
(1659-1695)
Nacht und Träume Franz Schubert
(1797-1828)
Meine Rose Robert Schumann
(1810-1856)
Le Rossignol des Lilas Reynaldo Hahn
L’heure exquise (1874-1947)
Rêverie
Brief Pause
Three Irish Folksong Settings John Corigliano
I. The Salley Gardens (b. 1938)
II. The Foggy Dew
III. She Moved Through the Fair
Yana Romanova, Flute
Stars and the Moon Jason Robert Brown
from Songs for a New World
Cry me a River Arthur Hamilton
from Swing!
Mark Shoun, Trombone
Life of the Party Andrew Lippa
from The Wild Party
In partial fulfillment of the degree requirements for the
Bachelor of Music in Music Education
The hall is equipped with a listening assistance system.
Patrons needing such assistance should contact an usher in the lobby.
Giulio Caccini:
Sfogava con le stelle
Poet: Ottavio Rinuccini (1562-1621)
Sfogava con le stelle
Un inferno d’amore
sotto notturno cielo il suo dolore,
E dicea fisso in loro:
O immagini belle dell’idol mio ch’adoro,
Si come a me mostrate, mentre cosi splendete
la sua rara beltate,
Cosi mostraste a lei, Mentre cotanto ardete,
I vivi ardori miei.
La fareste co’l vostro aureo sembiante
pietosa si, come me fate amante.
Francesco Cavalli:
Sospiri di foco
Poet: anonymous
Sospiri di foco
Che l'aure inflammate,
Leggeri volate
Intorno al mio bene.
E l'aspre mie pene
Narrategli un poco.
Sospiri, sospiri di foco,
Sospiri, sospiri di foco!
Aurette leggere,
Che udite il mio duolo,
Portatevi a volo
Al sen di chi adoro,
E dite ch'io moro
In doglie severe,
Aurette, aurette leggere,
aurette, aurette leggere.
John Bartlet:
What Thing is Love?
Poet: anonymous?
What thing is love?
I pray thee tell, I pray thee tell.
It is a prickle, it is a prickle, it is a sting,
It is a pretty, pretty thing.
It is a fire, it is a coal,
whose flame creeps, creeps in at every hole,
And as my wits can best devise:
Love’s darling lies in ladies’ eyes.
John Dowland:
Weepe You no more, Sad Fountains
Poet: anonymous
Weep you no more, sad fountains;
What need you flow so fast?
Look how the snowy mountains
Heaven's sun doth gently waste!
He Vented to the Stars
He vented to the stars
An inferno of love
under the night sky, grieving,
Saying to them:
“O lovely images of my adored one,
just as you reveal to me, by shining so brightly,
her rare beauty,
show to her as well my intense passion,
my burning love.
Make her, with your golden gleam
Pity me, as you have made me love her.
Sighs of Fire
Sighs of fire,
That inflame the breezes,
Lightly fly
Around my beloved.
And my harsh pains
Tell to him a little.
Sighs, sighs of fire,
Sighs, sighs of fire!
Light breezes,
Who hear my sorrow,
Carry yourselves in flight
To the breast of the one I adore,
And say that I die
In severe pain,
Breezes, light breezes,
Breezes, light breezes.
.
But my sun's heavenly eyes
View not your weeping,
That now lies sleeping,
Softly now, softly lies
Sleeping.
Henry Purcell:
Fairest Isle (Address to Britain)
poet: John Dryden (1631-1700)
Fairest isle, all isles excelling,
Seat of pleasure and of love.
Venus here will choose her dwelling,
And forsake her Cyprian grove.
Cupid from his fav’rite nation
Care and envy will remove;
Jelousy that poisons passion,
And dispair that dies for love.
Gentle murmurs, sweet complaining
Sighs that blow the fire of love.
Soft repulses kind disdaining,
Shall be all the pains you prove.
Ev’ry swain shall pay his duty,
Grateful ev’ry nymph shall prove;
And as these excel in beauty
Those shall be renowned for love
Robert Schumann:
Meine Rose
Poet: Nikolaus Lenau (1802-1850)
Dem holden Lenzgeschmeide,
Der Rose, meiner Freude,
Die schon gebeugt und blasser
Vom heißen Strahl der Sonnen,
Reich' ich den Becher Wasser
Aus dunklem, tiefem Bronnen.
Du Rose meines Herzens!
Vom stillen Strahl des Schmerzens
Bist du gebeugt und blasser;
Ich möchte dir zu Füßen,
Wie dieser Blume Wasser,
Still meine Seele gießen!
Könnt' ich dann auch nicht sehen
Dich freudig auferstehen.
Franz Schubert:
Nacht und Träume
Poet: Matthaus Kasimir von Collin (1779-1824)
Heil'ge Nacht, du sinkest nieder;
Nieder wallen auch die Träume
Wie dein Mondlicht durch die Räume,
Durch der Menschen stille Brust.
Die belauschen sie mit Lust;
Rufen, wenn der Tag erwacht:
Kehre wieder, heil'ge Nacht!
My Rose
To the lovely jewelry of Spring,
to the rose, my delight,
that is already bowing and turning pale
from the hot beams of the sun,
I reach out a cup of water
from a dark, deep well.
You rose of my heart!
From the silent beam of pain
you bow and turn pale;
At your feet, I would like,
as this flower water does,
to silently pour my soul out,
even if I then might not see
you rising with joy.
Night and Dreams
Holy night, you sink down;
Dreams, too, drift downward
Like your moonlight through space,
Through the quiet hearts of men;
They listen with delight
Calling out when day awakens:
Return, holy night!
Holde Träume, kehret wieder
Reynaldo Hahn:
Le rossignol des lilas
poet: Léopold Dauphin (1847-?)
O premier rossignol qui viens
Dans les lilas, sous ma fenêtre,
Ta voix m'est douce à reconnaître!
Nul accent n'est semblable au tien!
Fidèle aux amoureux liens,
Trille encor, divin petit être!
O premier rossignol qui viens
Dans les lilas, sous ma fenêtre!
Nocturne ou matinal, combien
Ton hymne à l'amour me pénètre!
Tant d'ardeur fait en moi renaître
L'écho de mes avrils anciens,
O premier rossignol qui viens!
L’heure exquise
poet: Paul Verlaine (1844-1896)
La lune blanche
luit dans les bois.
De chaque branche
part une voix
sous la ramée.
O bien aimé[e]....
L'étang reflète,
profond miroir,
a 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!
Rêverie
Poet: Victor Hugo (1802-1885)
Puisqu'ici-bas toute âme
Donne à quelqu'un
Sa musique, sa flamme,
Ou son parfum;
Puisqu'ici toute chose
Donne toujours
Son épine ou sa rose
A ses amours;
Fair dreams, return!
The Nightingale in the Lilacs
O first nightingale to appear
Among the lilac beneath my window,
How sweet to recognise your voice!
There is no song like yours!
Faithful to the bonds of love,
Sing again, divine little being!
O first nightingale to appear
Among the lilac beneath my window!
Night or morning how
Your love-song strikes to my heart!
Such ardour re-awakens in me
Echoes of April days long past,
O first nightingale to appear!
The exquisite hour
The white moon
shines in the woods.
From each branch
springs a voice
beneath the arbor.
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 a sky
made iridescent by the moon.
It is the exquisite hour!
Daydreaming
As each soul here below
Someone has lent,
Its music or its glow
Or its own scent;
As all things here below
To true love give
A thorn, or else a rose,
As they do live;
Puisque l'air à la branche
Donne l'oiseau;
Que l'aube à la pervenche
Donne un peu d'eau;
Puisque, lorsqu'elle arrive
S'y reposer,
L'onde amère à la rive
Donne un baiser;
Je te donne, à cette heure,
Penché sur toi,
La chose la meilleure
Que j'ai en moi!
Reçois donc ma pensée,
Triste d'ailleurs,
Qui, comme une rosée,
T'arrive en pleurs!
Reçois mes voeux sans nombre,
O mes amours!
Reçois la flamme ou l'ombre
De tous mes jours!
Mes transports pleins d'ivresses,
Pur de soupçons,
Et toutes les caresses
De mes chansons!
John Corigliano:
Three Irish Folksong Settings:
The Salley Gardens
Down by the Sally Gardens
my love and I did meet.
She passed the Salley Gardens
with little snow white feet.
She bid me take love easy
as the leaves grow on the tree,
But I being young and foolish
with her did not agree
In a field by the river
my love and I did stand,
And on my leaning shoulder
she laid her show white hand.
She bid me take life easy
as the grass grows on the weirs,
But I was young and foolish
and now am full of tears.
The Foggy Dew
Adown the hill I went at morn
a lovely maid I spied
Her hair was bright as the dew that wets
As air the small bird lends
Unto the branch
Dawn dew the flowers sends,
Their thirst to quench;
As when dark waves reach land
To take their rest,
They leave upon the strand
A sweet caress;
I give thee, at this hour,
Bent over thee,
The best that's in my power,
The best in me!
I give my thoughts so true,
Though sad they be,
Like glistening drops of dew
They fall on thee.
My vows uncounted claim
My love, always.
Receive the shade or flame
Of all my days.
My wildest transports greet,
Suspicions gone,
And each caress so sweet
Of this my song.
sweet Anners verdant side
“Now where go ye, sweet maid?” said I.
She raised her eyes of blue,
And smiled and she said, “the boy I’ll wed
I’m to meet in the foggy dew!”
Go hide your bloom, ye roses red
and droop ye lilies rare,
For you must pale for very shame
before a maid so fair.
Says I, “Dear maid, will ye be my bride?”
beneath her eyes of blue
She smiled and she said, “The boy I’ll wed
I’m to meet in the foggy dew!”
Adown the hill I went at morn
a singing I did go.
Adown the hill I went at morn
she answered soft and low,
“Yes I will be your own dear bride
and I know that you’ll be true.”
Then sighed in my arms and all her charms
they were hidden in the foggy dew.
She Moved Through the Fair
My young love said to me,
“My mother won’t mind,
And my father won’t slight you
for your lack of kine.”
And she stepped away from me,
and this she did say,
“It will not be long, love,
‘till our wedding day.”
She stepped away from me
and she went through the fair.
And fondly I watched her
move here and move there,
And then she went homeward
with one star awake,
As the swan in the evening
moves over the lake.
Last night she came to me,
she came softly in.
So softly she came
that her feet made no din,
And she laid her hand on me,
and this she did say,
“It will not be long, love,
till our wedding day.”
The UNCG School of Music has been recognized for years as one of the elite
music institutions in the United States. Fully accredited by the National
Association of Schools of Music since 1938, the School offers the only
comprehensive music program from undergraduate through doctoral study in
both performance and music education in North Carolina. From a total
population of approximately 16,000 university students, the UNCG School of
Music serves over 600 music majors with a full-time faculty and staff of more than
sixty. As such, the UNCG School of Music ranks among the largest Schools of
Music in the South.
The UNCG School of Music now occupies a new 26-million-dollar music building,
which is among the finest music facilities in the nation. In fact, the new music
building is the second-largest academic building on the UNCG Campus. A large
music library with state-of-the-art playback, study and research facilities houses
all music reference materials. Greatly expanded classroom, studio, practice
room, and rehearsal hall spaces are key components of the new structure. Two
new recital halls, a large computer lab, a psychoacoustics lab, electronic music
labs, and recording studio space are additional features of the new facility. In
addition, an enclosed multi-level parking deck is adjacent to the new music
building to serve students, faculty and concert patrons.
Living in the artistically thriving Greensboro—Winston-Salem—High Point “Triad”
area, students enjoy regular opportunities to attend and perform in concerts
sponsored by such organizations as the Greensboro Symphony Orchestra, the
Greensboro Opera Company, and the Eastern Music Festival. In addition,
UNCG students interact first-hand with some of the world’s major artists who
frequently schedule informal discussions, open rehearsals, and master classes at
UNCG.
Costs of attending public universities in North Carolina, both for in-state and out-of-
state students, represent a truly exceptional value in higher education.
For information regarding music as a major or minor field of study, please write:
Dr. John J. Deal, Dean
UNCG School of Music
P.O. Box 26170
Greensboro, North Carolina 27402-6170
(336) 334-5789
On the Web: www.uncg.edu/mus/
