Elizabeth Neumeyer
Monica Adams, collaborative piano
Thursday, April 23, 2026
7:30 pm
Recital Hall
mezzo-soprano
Ständchen, op. 106, No. 1 (1888)
23, 2026, 7:30 PM
Johannes Brahms (1833–1897)
Der Tod, das ist die kühle Nacht, op. 96, No. 1 (1884)
Von Ewiger Liebe, op. 43 No. 1 (1869)
L’heure exquise (1917)
Régine Poldowski (1879–1932)
Banalités, FP 107 (1940)
Hôtel
Francis Poulenc (1899–1963)
Voyage à Paris 4′
A Charm of Lullabies, op. 41 (1947)
Cradle Song
The Highland Balou Sephestia’s Lullaby A Charm
The Nurse’s Song
Cruda sorte! Amor tiranno! from L’italiana in Algeri (1813)
Benjamin Britten (1913–1976)
Gioachino Rossini (1792–1886)
PROGRAM NOTES
Britten: A Charm of Lullabies
Britten’s 1947 song cycle written for contralto Nancy Evans, A Charm of Lullabies, has long been a recital hall favorite [...] The title, too, suggests something pleasant, soothing, and, frankly, sentimental. It conjures up nurseries in the days of dedicated servants, whose own domestic lives were irrelevant […] A number of the texts are on the scary side, and not one is what you’d call sentimental.
Cradle Song
The “Cradle Song” of poet, painter, and prophet William Blake (1757–1827) testifies not only to the smiles, joys, and beauties on infancy, but more insistently to “soft desires,” “cunning wiles,” “little sorrows,” and “dreadful lightnings.” This lullaby singer knows innocence and experience are one life, viewed from two perspectives—and there is a strong sense that the singer longs for rest herself, which the infant’s liveliness prevents.
The Highland Balou
The “Highland Balou” of Robert Burns (1759–1796) is an altogether heartier affair, and scarcely conducive to sleep. It seems more like a villain’s blessing, wishing on the baby a successful career as a horse thief, profiting highland rogues by harrying the lowland fools.
Sephestia’s Lullaby
This lullaby is the most complex of the five, and the only one with a narrative; the singer of the lullaby tries to quiet a child she did not want, though the father did, at least at first. Then the father left, and she was left with the “wanton,” who she warns, “When thou art old, there’s grief enough for thee.” It reminded me of a highly effective childhood warning from my own kind mother, who had five children before me: “Stop crying or I’ll give you something to cry for.”
A
Charm
“A Charm,” by Thomas Randolph (1605–1639) is an extended and elaborate threat, extended in this song from the hypothetical child to the audience. “Quiet, sleep!” we are warned, or all the hounds and furies of hell will be set loose on us, and every sort of malady afflict us. We are far from the repetitive, tuneful softness of what we normally think of as lullabies, and in the world of the charm, or spell! It is a particular thing, isn’t it—a song that is sung in order to achieve (or enforce) silence?
The Nurse’s Song
The haunting “Nurse’s Song,” setting a poem taken from Elizabethan dramatist John Philip’s The Play of Patient Grisell [...] It is hard to imagine anything more lonely, or more poignant [...] It calls to mind the exhaustion of those attending infants in the middle of the night, the insecurities and premonitions of early morning hours, the costs that accompany the pleasures of care.
—James Conway
Rossini: Cruda sorte! Amor tiranno!
Mustafà, the Bey of Algiers, has grown tired of his wife Elvira and wishes to marry her off to Lindoro, his Italian slave. The latter longs for his true love, Isabella, who has remained behind in Italy.
When a storm forces a ship to land at Algiers, Isabella, who is among the passengers, makes a grand entrance. She passes her travelling companion, Taddeo, off as her uncle and although she is upset at first, she intends to take control of her new situation—notably by manipulating the men around her.
—Opera Online
Brahms: 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
Brahms: Der Tod, das ist die kühle Nacht
Der Tod, das ist die kühle Nacht, Das Leben ist der schwüle Tag. Es dunkelt schon, mich schläfert, Der Tag hat mich müd gemacht.
Über mein Bett erhebt sich ein Baum, Drin singt die junge Nachtigall; Sie singt von lauter Liebe— Ich hör es sogar im Traum.
—Heinrich Heine
Serenade
The moon hangs over the mountain, so fitting for love-struck people. In the garden trickles a fountain; otherwise, it is still far and wide.
Near the wall, in shadows, there stand the students three: with flute and fiddle and zither, they sing and play there.
The sounds waft up to the loveliest of women, gently entering her dreams. She gazes on her blond beloved and whispers: "Forget me not!" —trans. Emily Ezust
Death is the Cool Night
Death is the cool night; Life is the sultry day. It is growing dark already, and I feel drowsy, The day has made me weary.
Above my bed stands a tree In which the young nightingale sings; It sings of sonorous love— And I even hear it in my dreams. —trans. Emily Ezust
Brahms: Von Ewiger Liebe
Dunkel, wie dunkel in Wald und in Feld! Abend schon ist es, nun schweiget die Welt.
Nirgend noch Licht und nirgend noch Rauch, Ja, und die Lerche sie schweiget nun auch.
Kommt aus dem Dorfe der Burscheheraus, Gibt das Geleit der Geliebten nach Haus,
Führt sie am Weidengebüsche vorbei, Redet so viel und so mancherlei:
"Leidest du Schmach und betrübest du dich, Leidest du Schmach von andern um mich,
Werde die Liebe getrennt so geschwind, Schnell, wie wir früher vereiniget sind.
Scheide mit Regen und scheide mit Wind, Schnell wie wir früher vereiniget sind."
Spricht das Mägdelein, Mägdelein spricht: "Unsere Liebe sie trennet sich nicht!
Fest ist der Stahl und das Eisen gar sehr, Unsere Liebe ist fester noch mehr.
Eisen und Stahl, man schmiedet sie um, Unsere Liebe, wer wandelt sie um?
Eisen und Stahl, sie können zergehn, Unsere Liebe muß ewig bestehn!"
—August Heinrich Hoffmann
von Fallersleben
Of Eternal Love
Dark, how dark in wood and field! Evening has already fallen, and now the world is silent.
Nowhere is there light and nowhere is there smoke,
Yes, and even the lark is now silent as well.
Out of the village there comes a young lad, taking his sweetheart home,
He leads her past the willow bushes, Talking so much and about so many things:
"If you suffer disgrace and feel dejected, If others shame you about me,
Then let our love be sundered as swiftly,
As quickly as we were united before.
It will go with the rain, it will go with the wind, As quickly as we were united before."
The maiden speaks, the maiden says: "Our love will not be sundered!
Steel is strong, and iron is very strong; Our love is even stronger.
Iron and steel can be reforged, [But] our love—who could alter it?
Iron and steel can be melted down, [But] our love will exist forever!" —trans. Emily Ezust
Poldowski: L'heure exquise
La lune blanche
Luit dans les bois; De chaque branche
Part une voix
Sous la ramée...
Ô bien aimée.
L'étang reflète, Profond miroir, La silhouette
Du saule noir
Où le vent pleure...
Rêvons, c'est l'heure.
Un vaste et tendre
Apaisement
Semble descendre
Du firmament
Que l'astre irise...
C'est l'heure exquise.
—Paul Verlaine
Exquisite Hour
The white moon Gleams in the woods; From every branch
There comes a voice
Beneath the boughs...
O my beloved.
The pool reflects, Deep mirror,
The silhouette
Of the black willow Where the wind is weeping...
Let us dream, it is the hour.
A vast and tender Consolation Seems to fall From the sky
The moon illuminates...
Exquisite hour.
—trans. Richard Stokes
Poulenc: Banalités, FP 107
Hôtel
Ma chambre a la forme d’une cage
Le soleil passe son bras par la fenêtre
Mais moi qui veux fumer pour faire des mirages
J’allume au feu du jour ma cigarette
Je ne veux pas travailler je veux fumer.
—Guillaume Apollinaire
Voyage à Paris
Ah! la charmante chose
Quitter un pays morose
Pour Paris
Paris joli
Qu'un jour dût créer l'Amour.
—Guillaume Apollinaire
Britten: A Charm of Lullabies, op. 41
Cradle Song
Sleep, sleep, beauty bright,
Dreaming o'er the joys of night; Sleep, sleep, in thy sleep
Little sorrows sit and weep.
Sweet babe, in thy face
Soft desires I can trace,
Secret joys and secret smiles, Little pretty infant wiles.
O! the cunning wiles that creep
In thy little heart asleep. When thy little heart does wake
Then the dreadful lightnings break,
From thy cheek and from thy eye, O'er the youthful harvests nigh.
Infant wiles and infant smiles
Heaven and Earth of peace beguiles.
—William Blake
Hotel
My room is shaped like a cage
The sun slips its arm through the window
But I who want to smoke to make mirages
I light my cigarette on daylight's fire I do not want to work; I want to smoke.
—trans. Richard Stokes
Going to Paris
Ah, how delightful it is to leave a dismal place and head for Paris!
Beautiful Paris, which one day Love had to create! —trans. Peter Lowe
The Highland Balou
Hee Balou, my sweet wee Donald, Picture o' the great Clanronald! Brawlie kens our wanton Chief What gat my young Highland thief.
Leeze me on thy bonnie craigie! And thou live, thou'll steal a naigie, Travel the country thro' and thro', and bring hame a Carlisle cow!
Thro' the Lawlands, o'er the Border, Weel, my babie, may thou furder!
Herry the louns o' the laigh Countrie, Syne to the Highlands hame to me!
—Robert Burns
Sephestia's Lullaby
Weep not, my wanton, smile upon my knee; When thou art old there's grief enough for thee. Mother's wag, pretty boy, Father's sorrow, father's joy; When thy father first did see Such a boy by [him] and me, He was glad, I was woe; Fortune changed made him so, When he left his pretty boy, Last his sorrow, first his joy.
Weep not, my wanton, smile upon my knee; When thou art old there's grief enough for thee. The wanton smiled, father wept, Mother cried, baby leapt; More he crow'd, more we cried, Nature could not sorrow hide: He must go, he must kiss Child and mother, baby bliss, For he left his pretty boy, Father's sorrow, father's joy.
Weep not, my wanton, smile upon my knee, When thou art old there's grief enough for thee.
—Robert Greene
A Charm
Quiet!
Sleep! or I will make Erinnys whip thee with a snake, And cruel Rhadamanthus take Thy body to the boiling lake, Where fire and brimstones never slake; Thy heart shall burn, thy head shall ache, And ev'ry joint about thee quake; And therefore dare not yet to wake!
Quiet, sleep!
Quiet, sleep!
Quiet!
Quiet!
Sleep! or thou shalt see
The horrid hags of Tartary, Whose tresses ugly serpents be, And Cerberus shall bark at thee, And all the Furies that are three The worst is called Tisiphone, Shall lash thee to eternity; And therefore sleep thou peacefully
Quiet, sleep!
Quiet, sleep!
Quiet!
The Nurse's Song
—Thomas Randolph
Lullaby baby, Lullaby baby, Thy nurse will tend thee as duly as may be. Lullaby baby!
Be still, my sweet sweeting, no longer do cry; Sing lullaby baby, lullaby baby. Let dolours be fleeting, I fancy thee, I... To rock and to lull thee I will not delay me.
Lullaby baby, Lullabylabylaby baby, Thy nurse will tend thee as duly as may be Lullabylabylaby baby
The gods be thy shield and comfort in need!
The gods be thy shield and comfort in need!
Sing Lullaby baby, Lullabylaby baby
They give thee good fortune and well for to speed, And this to desire...I will not delay me. This to desire...I will not delay me.
Lullaby lullaby
Lullaby baby,
Thy nurse will tend thee as duly as may be. Lullabylabylabylaby baby.
—John Phillip
Rossini: Cruda sorte! Amor tiranno!
Cruda sorte! Amor tiranno!
Questo è il premio di mia fe'?
Non v'è orror, terror nè affanno
Pari a quel ch'io provo in me.
Per te solo, oh mio Lindoro, Io mi trovo in tal periglio!
Da chi spero, oh Dio, consiglio?
Chi conforto mi darà?
Qua ci vuol disinvoltura,
Non più smanie nè paura:
Di coraggio è tempo adesso,
Or chi sono si vedrà!
Già so, per pratica,
Qual sia l'effetto
D'un sguardo languido, D'un sospiretto...
So a domar gli uomini; Come si fa!
Sian dolci o ruvidi,
Sian flemma o foco, Son tutti simili a presso a poco...
Tutti la chiedono, Tutti la bramano: Da vaga femmina Felicità!
—Angelo Anelli
Harsh Fate! Tyrannical Love!
Harsh fate! Tyrannical love! Is this the reward for my faithfulness? There's no horror, terror nor struggle Similar to that which I experience in me.
Only because of you, oh my dear Lindoro, I find myself in so much danger!
From whom should I expect, oh Lord, advice? Who shall comfort me?
Here one wants peacefulness, Neither agitation nor fear, anymore: Now it's the time for courage, Now they will see who I am! I already know, due to practice, What is the effect
Of an intense stare, Of a little sigh... I know how to tame men; I know how it's done!
Whether they're sweet or rough, Whether they're phlegmatic or passionate, They're all similar more or less... They all ask for it, They all crave it: From a mysterious woman Happiness!
STUDENT BIOGRAPHY
This recital is presented as a degree requirement for a Bachelor of Music in music performance.
German American mezzo-soprano Elizabeth Neumeyer is a third-year student of Professor Daniel Ebbers at University of the Pacific where she is pursuing a Bachelor of Music degree in music performance. She has performed throughout the United States, most recently singing the roles of Baba in Menotti’s The Medium, Bradamante in Händel’s Alcina, and Dritte Dame in Mozart’s Die Zauberflöte.
In summer 2026, Neumeyer will perform in her second season with the Janiec Opera Company at Brevard Music Center, North Carolina.