An Appreciation
Comments 2

Music…

Well… I mean…
Ch’uh!!!

What did you think I was gonna use for my “M” post?
Murgatroyd?
As in “Heavens to – exit, stage left, even?”

Not a chance…
I will, however, take it in a direction that some would not have predicted.
Unless you’re paying particularly close attention to what has come before.

Of course, if you’re paying that kind of attention to this particular blog…
Perhaps a hobby might be in order.
Might I suggest gardening, or genealogy, or any number of things that begin with the letter “G”?
See my post from the 8th of this month if you need additional ideas…

But I digress… 

The Serenade to Music was written by Ralph Vaughn Williams, to a text from Shakespeare’s The Merchant of Venice (Act V, Scene 1), and written as a tribute to the British conductor, Sir Henry Wood, on the occasion of the 50th anniversary of his first concert. Wood even conducted the premier of the piece.

I could go into all sorts of interesting tidbits about the construction of the piece, for orchestra and solo violin and 16 vocal soloists.
But I don’t think that I will.
Not today.
Just allow the music to work upon you, if you can.
Enjoy!

The text is as follows:

How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank!
Here will we sit and let the sounds of music
Creep in our ears: soft stillness and the night
Become the touches of sweet harmony.
Look how the floor of heaven
Is thick inlaid with patines of bright gold:
There’s not the smallest orb that thou behold’st
But in his motion like an angel sings,
Still quiring to the young-eyed cherubins;
Such harmony is in immortal souls;
But whilst this muddy vesture of decay
Doth grossly close it in, we cannot hear it.
Come, ho! and wake Diana with a hymn!
With sweetest touches pierce your mistress’ ear,
And draw her home with music.
I am never merry when I hear sweet music.
The reason is, your spirits are attentive 
The man that hath no music in himself,
Nor is not mov’d with concord of sweet sounds,
Is fit for treasons, stratagems and spoils;
The motions of his spirit are dull as night
And his affections dark as Erebus:
Let no such man be trusted. Music! hark!
It is your music of the house.
Methinks it sounds much sweeter than by day.
Silence bestows that virtue on it
How many things by season season’d are
To their right praise and true perfection!
Peace, ho! the moon sleeps with Endymion
And would not be awak’d. Soft stillness and the night
Become the touches of sweet harmony.

Music.
Serenade to Music.
Merchant of Venice.
Murgatroyd.

Not a bad day, as “M’s” go…

Image found here.

 

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