University of Nevada, Las Vegas
Six Shelley Songs by Jason Thorpe Buchanan were composed in the summer of 2008. Percy Bysshe Shelley (1792-1822) wrote these poems between 1814 and his unexpected death in 1822, when he drowned at sea. He is known for having been expelled from Oxford for distributing a pamphlet entitled "The Necessity of Atheism". He was married twice, leaving his first wife shortly after having written Away!, later meeting Mary Shelley, soon to be author of Frankenstein and daughter of William Godwin, a literary figure whom Shelley idolized. He lost two of the three children he had with Mary Shelley between 1818 and 1819. His texts have been criticized for their seemingly abstract surface aesthetic, as well as being called "splendidly nebulous". With these six songs I have attempted to capture the essence of Shelley's writing and depict the well-crafted romantic imagery contained in these poems. I hope that in doing so I manage to show their "splendidly nebulous" nature in my music.
Carolyn Villavicencio Grossmann - Piano
Performance Date: Nov. 2, 2008, Las Vegas, NV
For more information on the composer, please visit http://www.melosmusic.com or
http://www.jasonthorpebuchanan.com
Carolyn Villavicencio Grossmann - Piano
Performance Date: Nov. 2, 2008, Las Vegas, NV
For more information on the composer, please visit http://www.melosmusic.com or
http://www.jasonthorpebuchanan.com
Rain - No. 1 from Six Shelley Songs
By Jason Thorpe Buchanan
Nicole Yazolino - Soprano
Rain (1819) - P.B. Shelley
The fitful alternations of the rain,
When the chill wind, languid as with pain
Of its own heavy moisture, here and there
Drives thro' the gray and beamless atmosphere.
The fitful alternations of the rain,
When the chill wind, languid as with pain
Of its own heavy moisture, here and there
Drives thro' the gray and beamless atmosphere.
The Indian Serenade - No. 2 from Six Shelley Songs
By Jason Thorpe Buchanan
Nicole Yazolino - Soprano
The Indian Serenade (1819) - P.B. Shelley
I Arise from dreams of thee
In the first sweet sleep of night,
When the winds are breathing low,
And the stars are shining bright:
I arise from dreams of thee,
And a spirit in my feet
Hath led me -- who knows how!
To thy chamber window, Sweet!
The wandering airs they faint
On the dark, the silent stream--
And the champak odors fail
Like sweet thoughts in a dream;
The nightingale's complaint,
It dies upon her heart;--
As I must on thine,
O belovèd as thou art!
O lift me from the grass!
I die! I faint! I fail!
Let thy love in kisses rain
On my lips and eyelids pale.
My cheek is cold and white, alas!
My heart beats loud and fast;--
O press it to thine own again,
Where it will break at last.
I Arise from dreams of thee
In the first sweet sleep of night,
When the winds are breathing low,
And the stars are shining bright:
I arise from dreams of thee,
And a spirit in my feet
Hath led me -- who knows how!
To thy chamber window, Sweet!
The wandering airs they faint
On the dark, the silent stream--
And the champak odors fail
Like sweet thoughts in a dream;
The nightingale's complaint,
It dies upon her heart;--
As I must on thine,
O belovèd as thou art!
O lift me from the grass!
I die! I faint! I fail!
Let thy love in kisses rain
On my lips and eyelids pale.
My cheek is cold and white, alas!
My heart beats loud and fast;--
O press it to thine own again,
Where it will break at last.
A Widow Bird - No. 3 from Six Shelley Songs
By Jason Thorpe Buchanan
Nicole Yazolino - Soprano
A
Widow Bird (1822) - P.B. Shelley
A widow bird sate mourning for her love
Upon a wintry bough;
The frozen wind crept on above,
The freezing stream below.
There was no leaf upon the forest bare,
No flower upon the ground,
And little motion in the air
Except the mill-wheel's sound.
A widow bird sate mourning for her love
Upon a wintry bough;
The frozen wind crept on above,
The freezing stream below.
There was no leaf upon the forest bare,
No flower upon the ground,
And little motion in the air
Except the mill-wheel's sound.
To The Moon - No. 4 from Six Shelley Songs
By Jason Thorpe Buchanan
Nicole Yazolino - Soprano
To The Moon (1820) - P.B. Shelley
Art thou pale for weariness
Of climbing heaven, and gazing on the earth,
Wandering companionless
Among the stars that have a different birth,
And ever changing, like a joyless eye
That finds no object worth its constancy?
Art thou pale for weariness
Of climbing heaven, and gazing on the earth,
Wandering companionless
Among the stars that have a different birth,
And ever changing, like a joyless eye
That finds no object worth its constancy?
Away! - No. 5 from Six Shelley Songs
By Jason Thorpe Buchanan
Nicole Yazolino - Soprano
Away! (Stanzas -- April, 1814) - P.B. Shelley
Away! the moor is dark beneath the moon,
Rapid clouds have drunk the last pale beam of even:
Away! the gathering winds will call the darkness soon,
And profoundest midnight shroud the serene lights of heaven.
Pause not! the time is past! Every voice cries, 'Away!'
Tempt not with one last tear thy friend's ungentle mood:
Thy lover's eye, so glazed and cold, dares not entreat thy stay:
Duty and dereliction guide thee back to solitude.
Away, away! to thy sad and silent home;
Pour bitter tears on its desolated hearth;
Watch the dim shades as like ghosts they go and come,
And complicate strange webs of melancholy mirth.
The leaves of wasted autumn woods shall float around thine head:
The blooms of dewy spring shall gleam beneath thy feet:
But thy soul or this world must fade in the frost that binds the dead, Ere midnight's frown and morning's smile, ere thou
and peace may meet.
The cloud -- shadows of midnight possess their own repose,
For the weary winds are silent, or the moon is in the deep:
Some respite to its turbulence unresting ocean knows;
Whatever moves, or toils, or grieves, hath its appointed sleep.
Thou in the grave shalt rest--yet till the phantoms flee
Which that house and heath and garden made dear to thee erewhile, Thy remembrance, and repentance, and deep musings are not free
From the music of two voices and the light of one sweet smile.
Music When Soft Voices Die - No. 6 from Six Shelley Songs
By Jason Thorpe Buchanan - Nicole Yazolino - Soprano
Away! the moor is dark beneath the moon,
Rapid clouds have drunk the last pale beam of even:
Away! the gathering winds will call the darkness soon,
And profoundest midnight shroud the serene lights of heaven.
Pause not! the time is past! Every voice cries, 'Away!'
Tempt not with one last tear thy friend's ungentle mood:
Thy lover's eye, so glazed and cold, dares not entreat thy stay:
Duty and dereliction guide thee back to solitude.
Away, away! to thy sad and silent home;
Pour bitter tears on its desolated hearth;
Watch the dim shades as like ghosts they go and come,
And complicate strange webs of melancholy mirth.
The leaves of wasted autumn woods shall float around thine head:
The blooms of dewy spring shall gleam beneath thy feet:
But thy soul or this world must fade in the frost that binds the dead, Ere midnight's frown and morning's smile, ere thou
and peace may meet.
The cloud -- shadows of midnight possess their own repose,
For the weary winds are silent, or the moon is in the deep:
Some respite to its turbulence unresting ocean knows;
Whatever moves, or toils, or grieves, hath its appointed sleep.
Thou in the grave shalt rest--yet till the phantoms flee
Which that house and heath and garden made dear to thee erewhile, Thy remembrance, and repentance, and deep musings are not free
From the music of two voices and the light of one sweet smile.
Music When Soft Voices Die - No. 6 from Six Shelley Songs
By Jason Thorpe Buchanan - Nicole Yazolino - Soprano
Music, When Soft Voices Die (1821) - P.B. Shelley
Music, when soft voices die,
Vibrates in the memory--
Odors, when sweet violets sicken,
Live within the sense they quicken.
Rose leaves, when the rose is dead,
Are heaped for the beloved's bed;
And so thy thoughts, when thou art gone,
Love itself shall slumber on.
Music, when soft voices die,
Vibrates in the memory--
Odors, when sweet violets sicken,
Live within the sense they quicken.
Rose leaves, when the rose is dead,
Are heaped for the beloved's bed;
And so thy thoughts, when thou art gone,
Love itself shall slumber on.
© 2008 Nicole Yazolino