Monteverdi - Lamento della Ninfa - Kirkby

Claudio Monteverdi Lamento della Ninfa, from “Madrigali guerrieri ed amorosi, 1638“ (Ottavo Libro de’ Madrigali) Text: Ottavio Rinuccini Part I: Non havea Febo ancora (TTB) Part II: Amor, dicea (STTB) Part III: Si, tra sdegnosi pianti (TTB) In this recording: Emma Kirkby, soprano Paul Agnew, tenor Andrew King, tenor Alan Ewing, bass The Consort of Musicke, Anthony Rooley Musicians: Tom Finucane, Anthony Rooley, Shirley Rumsey, lutes Christopher Wilson, Michael Fields, David Miller, chitarroni Erin Headley, lirone Hannelore DeVaere, harp Alan Wilson, organ Virgin Veritas Recorded in 1989-1990 Lamento della ninfa is the 18th piece from Monteverdi’s eighth book of madrigals (Madrigali guerrieri ed amorosi, 1638). The three male voices narrate the story and offer empathy to the nymph while she is lamenting over her abandonment. This movement of the madrigal is a beautiful example for Phrygian progression with the ostinato of its bass line in four descending notes all the way through. The inner turmoil and sorrow of the nymph is mirrored in the music by the melodic and harmonic dissonances. Original text: 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 che i 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. Translation (by Massimo Ossi, slightly edited): Phoebus had not yet brought daylight to the world when a damsel came out of her dwelling. Her suffering was plain on her face, and frequently she let great sighs loose from her heart. Thus trampling the flowers, she wandered here and there, and her lost love she thus wept: “Love,“ she said, stopping to look at the heavens, “where, where is the faith that the traitor swore to me? Let my love return as he was, or else kill me, so that I may no longer torment myself.“ Poor wretch, alas, nol longer can she suffer such scorn. “I don’t want him to sigh except away from me, I no longer want him to confide his sufferings in me. Because I suffer for him, he is proud; will he beseech me if I flee from him? She may have a more serene brow than mine, but even Love’s breast does not harbor such beautiful constancy. Never will he have such sweet kisses from that mouth, nor softer - be still, be still, that he knows all too well. Thus among scornful weeping she scattered her laments to the sky; thus in lovers’ hearts Love mixes flame and ice.