Miranda Richardson, narrator, Sophie Bevan, soprano, Christopher Glynn, piano

Hark, Hark! The lark! 

August Wilhelm von Schlegel, transl. William Shakespeare /Franz Schubert

Hark, hark! the lark at heaven’s gate sings, 

And Phoebus ’gins arise, 

His steeds to water at those springs 

On chalic’d flowers that lies; 

And winking Mary-buds begin 

To open their golden eyes;

 With everything that pretty is, 

My lady sweet, arise; 

Arise, arise! 

Orpheus with his lute 

William Shakespeare/Ralph Vaughan-Williams

Orpheus with his lute made trees,
And the mountain-tops that freeze,
Bow themselves, when he did sing:

To his music, plants and flowers
Ever sprung; as sun and showers
There had made a lasting spring.

Everything that heard him play,
Even the billows of the sea,
Hung their heads, and then lay by.

In sweet music is such art:
Killing care and grief of heart
Fall asleep, or, hearing, die.

She never told her love 

William Shakespeare/Joseph Haydn

She never told her love,
But let concealment, like a worm in the bud,
Feed on her damask cheek...;
She sat, like Patience on a monument,
Smiling at grief.

Willow Song 

Middle English text from Volkslieder 1583/Percy Grainger

The poor soul sat sighing by a sycamore tree,

Sing willow, willow, willow,

With his hand in his bosom and his head upon his knee,

O willow willow willow shall be my garland.

Sing all a green willow, willow, willow, willow;

Aye me the green willow must be my garland!

He sighed to his singing, and made a great moan,

Sing willow, willow, willow;

I am dead to all pleasure, my true love she is gone.

O willow willow willow shall be my garland.

Take this for my farewell and latest adieu,

Sing willow, willow, willow;

Write this on my tomb, that in love I was true.

O willow willow willow shall be my garland...

Ave Maria 

translation/Giuseppe Verdi

Hail Mary, full of grace, chosen among wives and maidens art thou,

blessed be the fruit, o blessed one, of thy womb, Jesus.

Pray for the one who kneels in prayer before you, pray for the sinner, for the one who is innocent, and for the weak

and oppressed, and for the mighty, also wretched, show thy mercy.

Pray for the one who bows his head

under injustice and under misfortune;

for us, pray thou for us, pray ever and in the hour of our death,

pray for us, pray for us, pray.

Hail Mary . . in the hour of our death.

Hail! . . . Amen!

Under the greenwood tree 

William Shakespeare/Madeleine Dring

Under the greenwood tree

Who loves to lie with me,

And turn his merry note

Unto the sweet bird's throat,

Come hither, come hither, come hither:

Here shall he see

No enemy

But winter and rough weather.

Who doth ambition shun,

And loves to live i' the sun,

Seeking the food he eats,

And pleas'd with what he gets,

Come hither, come hither, come hither:

Here shall he see

No enemy

But winter and rough weather.

If it do come to pass

That any man turn ass,

Leaving his wealth and ease,

A stubborn will to please,

Ducdame, ducdame, ducdame:

Here shall he see

Gross fools as he,

An if he will come to me.

Under the greenwood tree

Who loves to lie with me.

Take O take those lips away 

Anon/Amy Beach

Take, o take those lips away,

That so sweetly were forsworn;

And those eyes, the break of day,

Lights that do mislead the morn:

But my kisses bring again;

Seals of love, but seal'd in vain, sealed in vain.

Hide, o hide those hills of snow

that thy frozen bosom wears,

On whose tops the pinks that grow

are yet of those that April wears;

But first set my poor heart free,

Bound in those icy chains by thee.

Titania’s Song 

William Shakespeare/Alison Bauld

What angel wakes me from my flowery bed?

I pray thee, gentle mortal, sing again.

Mine ear is much enamour'd of thy note.

So is mine eye enthrallèd to thy shape.

And thy fair virtue’s force perforce doth move me

On the first view to say, to swear, I love you.

Out of this wood do not desire to go.

Thou wilt remain here whether thou wilt or no.

I am a spirit of no common rate.

The summer still doth tend upon my state.

And I do love thee. Therefore go with me.

I’ll give thee fairies to attend on thee.

And they shall fetch thee jewels from the deep,

And sing while thou on pressèd flowers dost sleep.

And I will purge thy mortal grossness so

That thou shalt like an airy spirit go.—

Peaseblossom, Cobweb, Moth, and Mustardseed!

Be kind and courteous to this gentleman.

And pluck the wings from painted butterflies

To fan the moonbeams from his sleeping eyes.

Nod to him, elves, and do him courtesies.

The moon methinks looks with a watery eye.

And when she weeps, weeps every little flower,

Lamenting some enforcèd chastity.

Tie up my love’s tongue. Bring him silently.

Lady Macbeth: A Scene 

William Shakespeare/Joseph Horovitz

He is about it:

Their doors are open; and the surfeited grooms

Do mock their charge with snores:

I have drugg'd their possets,

That death and nature do contend about them,

Whether they live or die...

I laid their daggers ready;

He could not miss 'em. Had he not resembled

My father as he slept, I had done't

Why did you bring these daggers from the place?

They must lie there: go carry them; and smear

The sleepy grooms with blood...

Infirm of purpose!

Give me the daggers: the sleeping and the dead

Are but as pictures: 'tis the eye of childhood

That fears a painted devil. If he do bleed,

I'll gild the faces of the grooms withal;

For it must seem their guilt.

INTERVAL

Titania’s Cradle 

William Shakespeare/Liza Lehmann 

I know a bank whereon the wild thyme blows,

Where oxlips and the nodding violet grows

Quite over-canopied with luscious woodbine,

With sweet musk-roses, and with eglantine:

There sleeps Titania some time of the night,

Lull'd in these flowers with dances and delight.

And there the snake throws her enameled skin,

Weed wide enough to wrap a fairy in.

Fairy Lullaby

William Shakespeare/Amy Beach

You spotted snakes with double tongue

Thorny hedgehogs, be not seen;

Newts and blind-worms, do no wrong

Come not near our fairy queen

Philomel, with melody

Sing in our sweet lullaby;

Lulla, lulla, lullaby, lulla, lulla, lullaby:

Never harm

Nor spell nor charm

Come our lovely lady nigh;

So, good night, with lullaby

Weaving spiders, come not here;

Hence, you long-legg'd spinners, hence!

Beetles black, approach not near;

Worm nor snail, do no offence

Philomel, with melody

Sing in our sweet lullaby;

Lulla, lulla, lullaby, lulla, lulla, lullaby:

Never harm

Nor spell nor charm

Come our lovely lady nigh;

So, good night, with lullaby

Come unto these yellow sands 

William Shakespeare/Henry Purcell/Thomas Ades

Come unto these yellow sands,

And then take hands:

Courtsied when you have and kiss’d

The wild waves whist,

Foot it featly here and there;

And, sweet sprites, the burthen bear.

Hark, hark!

The watch-dogs bark!

Hark, hark! I hear

The strain of strutting chanticleer

Cry, Cock-a-diddle-dow.

Where the bee sucks 

William Shakespeare/Thomas Arne

Where the bee sucks there lurk I:
In a cow-slip's bed I lie;
There I couch when owls do cry
On a bat's back do I fly
After sunset merrily
Merrily, merrily shall I live now
Under the blossom that hangs on the bough

Ophelia’s Song 

William Shakespeare/Elizabeth Maconchy 

How should I your true love know
From another one?
By his cockle hat and staff,
And his sandal shoon.

He is dead and gone, lady,
He is dead and gone;
At his head a grass green turf,
At his heels a stone.

White his shroud as the mountain snow,
Larded with sweet flowers;
Which bewept to the grave did go
With true-love showers.

La Mort d’Ophelie 

Ernest Legouve/Hector Berlioz

Après d’un torrent, Ophélie
Cueillait, tout en suivant le bord,
Dans sa douce et tendre folie,
Des pervenches, des boutons d’or,
Des iris aux couleurs d’opale,
Et de ces fleurs d’un rose pâle,
Qu’on appelle des doigts de mort.

Puis élevant sur ses mains blanches
Les riants trésors du matin,
Elle les suspendait aux branches,
Aux branches d’un saule voisin.
Mais, trop faible, le rameau plie,
Se brise, et la pauvre Ophélie
Tombe, sa guirlande à la main.

Quelques instants sa robe enflée
La tint encor sur le courant,
Et comme une voile gonflée,
Elle flottait toujours chantant,
Chantant quelque vieille ballade,
Chantant ainsi qu’une naïade
Née au milieu de ce torrent.

Mais cette étrange mélodie
Passa, rapide comme un son.
Par les flots la robe alourdie
Bientôt dans l’abîme profond;
Entraîna la pauvre insensée,
Laissant à peine commencée
Sa mélodieuse chanson.

TRANSLATION ON ITS WAY..

Somewhere 

Stephen Sondheim/Leonard Bernstein

There's a place for us,

Somewhere a place for us.

Peace and quiet and open air

Wait for us, somewhere.

There's a time for us,

Some day a time for us,

Time together with time to spare,

Time to learn, time to care.

Some day,

Somewhere,

We'll find a new way of living,

We'll find a way of forgiving.

Somewhere,

Somewhere . . .

There's a place for us,

A time and place for us.

Hold my hand and we're halfway there.

Hold my hand and I'll take you there

Somehow,

Some day,

Somewhere!

It was a lover and his lass

William Shakespeare/Madeleine Dring

It was a lover and his lass,

With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino,

That o’er the green cornfield did pass,

In springtime, the only pretty ring time,

When birds do sing, hey ding a ding, ding;

Sweet lovers love the spring.

Between the acres of the rye,

With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino,

Those pretty country folks would lie,

In springtime, the only pretty ring time,

When birds do sing, hey ding a ding, ding;

Sweet lovers love the spring.

This carol they began that hour,

With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino,

How that a life was but a flower

In springtime, the only pretty ring time,

When birds do sing, hey ding a ding, ding;

Sweet lovers love the spring.

And therefore take the present time,

With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino,

For love is crownèd with the prime

In springtime, the only pretty ring time,

When birds do sing, hey ding a ding, ding;

Sweet lovers love the spring.