Recital: Kayleigh Bennett '22 MM, Soprano
NEC's students meet one-on-one each week with a faculty artist to perfect their craft. As each one leaves NEC to make their mark in the performance world, they present a full, professional recital that is free and open to the public. It's your first look at the artists of tomorrow.
Kayleigh Bennett '22 MM studies Voice with Jane Eaglen.
This performance is open to in-person audiences, and can also be viewed via livestream.
- Kayleigh Bennett '22 MM, soprano
- J.J. Penna, piano
- Jane Eaglen, studio teacher
Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart
Chi sà, chi sà, qual sia, K. 582
Vado, ma dove? Oh Dei!, K. 583Texts
Chi sà, chi sà, qual sia
Chi sà, chi sà,
qual sia l’affanno
del mio bene,
se sdegno, gelosia,
timor, sospetto, amor.
Voi che sapete, o Dei,
I puri affetti miei,
Voi questo dubbio amaro
Toglietemi dal cor.
Lorenzo Da Ponte
Vado, ma dove? Oh Dei!
Vado, ma dove? Oh Dei!
Se de' tormenti suoi,
se de' sospiri miei
non sente il ciel pietà!
Tu che mi parli al core,
Guida i miei passi, amore;
Tu quel ritegno or togli
Che dubitar mi fa.
Lorenzo Da PonteWho knows, who knows what it may be
Who knows, who knows
what it is the concern
that torments my beloved?
Is it anger, jealousy,
fear, suspicion or love?
O gods, you who know
the purity of my affection,
dispel this bitter doubt
from my heart.
English translation by Kayleigh Bennett
I go, but where? Ye gods!
I go, but where? Ye gods!
If for his torments,
for my sighs,
Heaven feels no pity?
You who speak to my heart,
guide my steps, love;
remove that hesitation
that makes me doubt.
Translation by Kayleigh BennettJohannes Brahms
from Fünf Lieder, op. 105
I. Wie Melodien
II. Immer Leiser
from Fünf Lieder, op. 106
I. StändchenTexts
Wie Melodien
Wie Melodien zieht es
Mir leise durch den Sinn,
Wie Frühlingsblumen blüht es
Und schwebt wie Duft dahin.
Doch kommt das Wort und faßt es
Und führt es vor das Aug’,
Wie Nebelgrau erblaßt es
Und schwindet wie ein Hauch.
Und dennoch ruht im Reime
Verborgen wohl ein Duft,
Den mild aus stillem Keime
Ein feuchtes Auge ruft.
Klaus Groth
Immer leiser wird mein Schlummer
Immer leiser wird mein Schlummer,
Nur wie Schleier liegt mein Kummer
Zitternd über mir.
Oft im Traume hör' ich dich
Rufen drauß vor meiner Tür:
Niemand wacht und öffnet dir,
Ich erwach' und weine bitterlich.
Ja, ich werde sterben müssen,
Eine Andre wirst du küssen,
Wenn ich bleich und kalt.
Eh' die Maienlüfte wehn,
Eh' die Drossel singt im Wald:
Willst du mich noch einmal sehn,
Komm, o komme bald!
Hermann Lingg
Ständchen
Der Mond steht über dem Berge,
So recht für verliebte Leut;
Im Garten rieselt ein Brunnen,
Sonst Stille weit und breit.
Neben der Mauer, im Schatten,
Da stehn der Studenten drei
Mit Flöt’ und Geig’ und Zither,
Und singen und spielen dabei.
Die Klänge schleichen der Schönsten
Sacht in den Traum hinein,
Sie schaut den blonden Geliebten
Und lispelt: „Vergiß nicht mein!“
Franz Kugler
Like Melodies
Thoughts, like melodies,
Steal softly through my mind,
Like spring flowers they blossom
And drift away like fragrance.
Yet when words come and capture them
And bring them before my eyes,
They turn pale like grey mist
And vanish like a breath.
Yet surely in rhyme
A fragrance lies hidden,
Summoned by moist eyes
From the silent seed.
My sleep grows ever quieter
My sleep grows ever quieter,
Only my grief, like a veil,
Lies trembling over me.
I often hear you in my dreams
Calling outside my door,
No one keeps watch and lets you in,
I awake and weep bitterly.
Yes, I shall have to die,
You will kiss another
When I am pale and cold.
Before May breezes blow,
Before the thrush sings in the wood;
If you would see me once again,
Come soon, come soon!
Serenade
The moon shines over the mountain,
Just right for the people in love;
A fountain purls in the garden
– Otherwise silence far and wide.
By the wall in the shadows,
Three students stand
With flute and fiddle and zither,
And sing and play.
The sound steals softly into the dreams
Of the loveliest of girls,
She sees her fair-headed lover
And whispers “Remember me.”
Translation © Richard Stokes, author of
The Book of Lieder (Faber); provided
via Oxford Lieder (www.oxfordlieder.co.uk)Henri Duparc
Chanson triste
Lamento
PhidyléTexts
Chanson triste
Dans ton cœur dort un clair de lune,
Un doux clair de lune d’été,
Et pour fuir la vie importune,
Je me noierai dans ta clarté.
J’oublierai les douleurs passées,
Mon amour, quand tu berceras
Mon triste cœur et mes pensées
Dans le calme aimant de tes bras.
Tu prendras ma tête malade,
Oh! quelquefois sur tes genoux,
Et lui diras une ballade
Qui semblera parler de nous;
Et dans tes yeux pleins de tristesses,
Dans tes yeux alors je boirai
Tant de baisers et de tendresses
Que peut-être je guérirai.
Jean Lahor
Lamento
Connaissez-vous la blanche tombe,
Où flotte avec un son plaintif
L'ombre d'un if?
Sur l'if une pâle colombe,
Triste et seule au soleil couchant,
Chante son chant.
On dirait que l'âme éveillée
Pleure sous terre à l'unisson
De la chanson,
t du malheur d'être oubliée
Se plaint dans un roucoulement
Bien doucement.
Ah! jamais plus, près de la tombe,
Je n'irai, quand descend le soir
Au manteau noir,
Écouter la pâle colombe
Chanter sur la branche de l'if
Son chant plaintif!
Théophile Gautier
Phidylé
L'herbe est molle au sommeil sous les frais peupliers,
Aux pentes des sources moussues,
Qui, dans les prés en fleur germant par mille issues,
Se perdent sous les noirs halliers.
Repose, ô Phidylé! Midi sur les feuillages
Rayonne, et t'invite au sommeil.
Par le trèfle et le thym, seules, en plein soleil,
Chantent les abeilles volages.
Un chaud parfum circule au détour des sentiers,
La rouge fleur des blés s'incline,
Et les oiseaux, rasant de l'aile la colline,
Cherchent l'ombre des églantiers.
Mais, quand l'Astre, incliné sur sa courbe éclatante,
Verra ses ardeurs s'apaiser,
Que ton plus beau sourire et ton meilleur baiser
Me récompensent de l'attente!
Charles-Marie-René Leconte de LisleSong of sadness
Moonlight slumbers in your heart,
A gentle summer moonlight,
And to escape the cares of life
I shall drown myself in your light.
I shall forget past sorrows,
My sweet, when you cradle
My sad heart and my thoughts
In the loving calm of your arms.
You will rest my poor head,
Ah! sometimes on your lap,
And recite to it a ballad
That will seem to speak of us;
And from your eyes full of sorrow,
From your eyes I shall then drink
So many kisses and so much love
That perhaps I shall be healed.
Lament
Do you know the white tomb,
Where the shadow of a yew
Waves plaintively?
On that yew a pale dove,
Sad and solitary at sundown
Sings its song;
As if the awakened soul
Weeps from the grave, together
With the song,
And at the sorrow of being forgotten
Murmurs its complaint
Most meltingly.
Ah! nevermore shall I approach that tomb,
When evening descends
In its black cloak.
To listen to the pale dove
On the branch of the yew
Sings its plaintive song!
Phidylé
The grass is soft for sleep beneath the cool poplars
On the banks of the mossy springs
That flow in flowering meadows from a thousand sources,
And vanish beneath dark thickets.
Rest, O Phidylé! Noon, on the leaves
Is gleaming, inviting you to sleep.
By the clover and thyme, alone, in the bright sunlight,
The fickle bees are humming.
A warm fragrance floats about the winding paths,
The red flowers of the cornfield droop;
And the birds, skimming the hillside with their wings,
Seek the shade of the eglantine.
But when the sun, low on its dazzling curve,
Sees its brilliance wane,
Let your loveliest smile and finest kiss
Reward me for my waiting!
Translation © Richard Stokes, author of A French Song
Companion (Oxford University Press) provided via
Oxford Lieder (www.oxfordlieder.co.uk)Dominick Argento | Six Elizabethan Songs
Spring
Sleep
Winter
Dirge
Diaphenia
HymnTexts
Spring
Spring, the sweet Spring, is the year's pleasant king;
Then blooms each thing, then maids dance in a ring,
Cold doth not sting, the pretty birds do sing,
Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo!
The palm and may make country houses gay,
Lambs frisk and play, the shepherd pipes all day,
And we hear aye birds tune this merry lay,
Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo!
The fields breathe sweet, the daisies kiss our feet,
Young lovers meet, old wives a-sunning sit,
In every street these tunes our ears do greet,
Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo!
Spring! The sweet Spring!
Thomas Nashe
Sleep
Care-charmer Sleep, son of the sable Night,
Brother to Death, in silent darkness born,
Relieve my anguish and restore thy light,
With dark forgetting of my cares, return;
And let the day be time enough to mourn
The shipwreck of my ill-adventur'd youth:
Let waking eyes suffice to wail their scorn,
Without the torment of the night's untruth.
Cease, dreams, th' imagery of day-desires
To model forth the passions of the morrow;
Never let rising sun approve you liars,
To add more grief to aggravate my sorrow.
Still let me sleep, embracing clouds in vain;
And never wake to feel the day's disdain.
Samuel Daniel
Winter
When icicles hang by the wall
And Dick the shepherd blows his nail,
And Tom bears logs into the hall,
And milk comes frozen home in pail;
When blood is nipt and ways be foul,
Then nightly sings the staring owl:
Tu-who! Tu-whit! Tu-who! -- A merry note!
While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.
When all aloud the wind doth blow,
And coughing drowns the parson's saw,
And birds sit brooding in the snow,
And Marian's nose looks red and raw;
When roasted crabs hiss in the bowl
Then nightly sings the staring owl:
Tu-who! Tu-whit! Tu-who! -- A merry note!
While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.
William Shakespeare
Dirge
Come away, come away, death,
And in sad cypress let me be laid;
Fly away, fly away, breath;
I am slain by a fair cruel maid.
My shroud of white, stuck all with yew,
O prepare it!
My part of death, no one so true
Did share it.
Not a flower, not a flower sweet,
On my black coffin let there be strown;
Not a friend, not a friend greet
My poor corpse, where my bones shall be thrown:
A thousand, thousand sighs to save,
Lay me, O where
Sad true lover never find my grave,
To weep there!
William Shakespeare
Diaphenia
Diaphenia, like the daffadowndilly,
White as the sun, fair as the lily,
Heigh ho, how I do love thee!
I do love thee as my lambs
Are belovèd of their dams:
How blest were I if thou would'st prove me.
Diaphenia, like the spreading roses,
That in thy sweets all sweets incloses,
Fair sweet, how I do love thee!
I do love thee as each flower
Loves the sun's life-giving power;
For dead, thy breath to life might move me.
Diaphenia, like to all things blessèd,
When all thy praises are expressèd,
Dear joy, how I do love thee!
As the birds do love the spring,
Or the bees their careful king, --
Then in requite, sweet virgin, love me!
Henry Constable
Hymn
Queen and huntress, chaste and fair,
Now the sun is laid to sleep,
Seated in thy silver chair,
State in wonted manner keep:
Hesperus entreats thy light,
Goddess excellently bright.
Earth, let not thy envious shade
Dare itself to interpose;
Cynthia's shining orb was made
Heav'n to clear when day did close;
Bless us then with wishèd sight,
Goddess excellently bright.
Lay thy bow of pearl apart,
And thy crystal shining quiver;
Give unto the flying hart
Space to breathe, how short so-ever:
Thou that mak'st a day of night,
Goddess excellently bright.BenJonson
I would like to thank my family for their constant support.
Thank you to my coach and collaborator, J.J. Penna,
for guiding me with his musical and artistic insight.
Finally, thank you to my teacher, Jane Eaglen,
for helping me to grow as a vocalist and performer these last several years.