Robert Blocker, Dean
faculty artist series
Voices By Ezra Laderman, composer & Robert Pinsky, poet
Morse Recital Hall October 15, 2016 • Saturday at 7:30 pm
Faculty Artist Series
Voices By Ezra Laderman, composer & Robert Pinsky, poet
October 15, 2016 • Morse Recital Hall
Dante English translation by Robert Pinsky
Readings from The Inferno of Dante
Ezra Laderman 1924–2015
Voices, based on The Inferno of Dante I. The Beginning (Inferno I, II) II. Through the Gates, Paolo and Francesca (Inferno III, V) III. The Wood of the Suicides (Canto XIII) IV. Ulysses (Inferno XXVI) V. The Traitors, In Ice: Bocca (Inferno XXXII) VI. Ugolino VII. The Ascent from Hell VIII. Epilogue (from Paradiso, Canto XXXIII)
Robert Pinsky, reader
Nola Richardson, soprano Gene Stenger, tenor Isaac Bray, baritone Argus Quartet Emily Brandenburg, viola Julia Clancy, viola Matthew Larson, music preparation David Ross, copyist
As a courtesy to the performers and audience, silence electronic devices. Please do not leave the hall during selections. Photography or recording of any kind is prohibited.
Notes on the Program
Ezra Laderman (1924–2015) Voices, based on The Inferno of Dante Ezra Laderman’s first public recognition came for his “Leipzig” Symphony, composed when he was a young soldier who had survived the Battle of the Bulge. His long, spectacular and varied career included other orchestral works, compositions for solo instruments, and quartets, as well as commissioned music for films. He lectured on the sonata form. For me, as I think for anyone who spent even a little time with Ezra, it is profoundly right that he also wrote for the human voice. He was a keenly effective storyteller and unlike some storytellers Ezra also was a good listener, acute as well as empathetic, funny as well as analytical. Ezra’s Voices, based on passages from my translation of The Inferno of Dante, benefits from the composer’s narrative gifts, as teller and listener, as well as his musical genius. I think of Ezra’s comical Army story of the brilliantly gifted young enlisted man being passed by degrees of military rank, higher and higher in the uncomprehending but respectful chain of command, step by step, culminating as I recall with a manystarred general eliciting a response to Private Laderman’s compositions from maestro Serge Koussevitzky of the Boston Symphony Orchestra — or, rather, an appreciative (but arrogant) response written by Kousevitzky’s young assistant, Leonard Bernstein. I think also of Ezra’s understated, moving account of his pilot brother’s death, after his plane was shot down, with the devastating effect of that death on his parents.
Voices emerged from many discussions between Ezra and me, concerning the characters of Dante, Virgil, and Beatrice and the selection of specific incidents. He had set other poems of mine, including Three Settings of Samurai Song for soprano and tenor, and Jersey Rain, for which he persuaded me to make a revision: we replaced “Rahway” with “Teaneck” for patriotic reasons. The generosity of his spirit, and the range of his intelligence, gave me a feeling of true collaboration. Working with Ezra Laderman on these settings of poetry, above all on Voices, was for me an honor, a thrill, and even a bit of an education, thanks to Ezra’s understanding of his art and mine — and of art itself, in its relation to human meaning, social and transcendent. —Robert Pinsky
Artist Profiles
Ezra Laderman (1924–2015) was a composer whose works included twelve string quartets, eleven concertos, and eight symphonies; six dramatic oratorios, music for dance, seven operas, and music for two Academy Awardwinning films. In the words of Anthony Tommasini, “Mr. Laderman’s gruff, kinetic music mixes pungently atonal elements into a harmonic language that is tonally rooted and clearly directed.” After joining the Yale School of Music community as a composer-in-residence in 1988, Laderman served as Dean from 1989 to 1995. Under his leadership, the Artist Diploma was added to the School’s degree programs in 1993. After his tenure as Dean, he served as Professor of Music until his retirement in 2014, when he was named Professor Emeritus. Ezra Laderman was a leader of numerous professional organizations: he served as president of the American Academy of Arts and Letters, director of the music program of the National Endowment for the Arts, chair of the National Endowment for the Arts composer-librettist program, president of the American Music Center, president of the National Music Council, and board chair of the American Composers Orchestra. He was the recipient of three Guggenheim fellowships and the Rome Prize, and served residencies at the Bennington Composers Conference, the American Academy in Rome, and the Rockefeller Foundation at Bellagio. Born in Brooklyn, New York, Laderman began improvising at the piano at age four and just a few years later began to compose music. He attended New York City’s High School of Music and Art, where he performed his own piano concerto with the
school’s orchestra. In 1943 he began serving in the United States Army as a radio operator with the 69th Infantry Division. Shortly after the war ended, Laderman wrote a fourmovement piece that became known as the “Leipzig” Symphony. After performing a piano reduction, he became an orchestrator with the G.I. Symphony Orchestra. Laderman was discharged from the Army in April 1946. Upon his return to civilian life, he earned his B.A. from Brooklyn College and his M.A. from Columbia University in 1952. As Allan Kozinn wrote in The New York Times in 1989, Laderman “studied composition with Stefan Wolpe, who led him away from tonality, and later with Otto Luening and Douglas Moore, who persuaded him to temper his atonal style by indulging his melodic gifts.” Laderman’s commissions included works for the New York Philharmonic, Chicago Symphony Orchestra, Los Angeles Philharmonic, Philadelphia Orchestra, Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestra, and the orchestras of Minnesota, Dallas, Houston, Detroit, and New Haven. His operas included Marilyn, based on the life of Marilyn Monroe, which premiered at the New York City Opera. Other musical-dramatic works, commissioned by and broadcast on the CBS Network, include Galileo, And David Wept, The Eagle Stirred, and Sarah. His works for dance include The Luther Symphony and Esther. He has written for the Tokyo, Juilliard, and Vermeer quartets and for soloists Yo-Yo Ma, Jean-Pierre Rampal, Sherrill Milnes, and Emanuel Ax, among many others. Laderman was greatly gratified to write for and have his compositions performed by his wonderful colleagues on the Yale School of Music faculty, including Aldo Parisot, Ransom Wilson, David Shifrin, Frank Morelli,
Artist Profiles
Ole Akahoshi, Wei-Yi Yang, and the Yale Brass Trio. His collaborators included Joe Darien, Norman Rosten, and Archibald MacLeish, among many others. Albany Records has released a nine-volume set called The Music of Ezra Laderman, focusing on his chamber output over many years. Each performance of the 27 works was supervised by the composer. Laderman remarked in the liner notes: “My compositions have embraced a pluralism of musical gesture. It is the path taken. A path taken not with the intention of making a different sound, but a good sound—one that was mine … I have never agreed that ‘new’ translates to important. I have simply wanted to extend the Western canon with my own voice.” Other recordings of Laderman’s music include the Concerto for Double Orchestra with Hugh Wolff and the New Jersey Symphony (New World); Citadel, Sanctuary, and the Violin Concerto with the Louisville Orchestra and conductor Lawrence Leighton Smith (First Editions); Pentimento with the Albany Symphony and Julius Hegyi (CRI), Concerto for Orchestra with the Baltimore Symphony and Sergiu Comissiona (Desto), Piano Etudes with Ilana Vered (Connoisseur), and the String Quartet No. 6 with the Audubon Quartet (RCA Victor).
Los Angeles Times Book Award in Poetry and the Harold Morton Landon translation prize. His other awards include the William Carlos Williams Prize, The Lenore Marshall Prize, The Ambassador Book Award, the Korean Manhae Prize, the Italian Premio Capri, and a Lifetime Achievement Award from the Pen American Center. As poet laureate of the United States, he founded the Favorite Poem Project, featuring the videos at favoritepoem.org. He performs with pianist Laurence Hobgood on the spoken word CDs PoemJazz and House Hour, from Circumstantial Productions. Pinsky is the William Fairfield Warren Distinguished Professor of English and Creative Writing at Boston University. He is the only member of the American Academy of Arts and Letters to have appeared on both The Colbert Report and The Simpsons.
Australian soprano Nola Richardson has been praised by The New York Times for her “beautiful tone” and the Washington Post for her “astonishing balance and accuracy,” “crystalline diction,” and “naturalsounding ease.” She recently took home the first prize in the 2016 Bethlehem Bach Competition and Third Prize and Audience Favorite in the 2016 Handel Aria Competition. Nola has performed as a soloist with the Baltimore Symphony Orchestra, the Boston Pops, the American Bach Soloists, Les Délices, the Baltimore Choral Arts Robert Pinsky’s new book of poems, At Society, and the Norfolk and Blue Hill the Foundling Hospital, was published this Bach Summer Festivals. She was a 2015 month by Farrar, Straus and Giroux. His Tanglewood Vocal Fellow and a young Selected Poems appeared in 2011. He has de- artist in the 2013 American stage debut of scribed his 2013 book Singing School as a Handel’s first opera, Almira, with the Boston combined anthology and manifesto. His Early Music Festival. As a member of the collaboration with Ezra Laderman for Voices Yale Voxtet she toured internationally is based on his best-selling translation The performing as the Evangelist in Arvo Pärt’s Inferno of Dante, which was awarded the Passio. Her upcoming season includes
Artist Profiles
appearances with the American Bach Soloists, Clarion, New Dominion Chorale, Oratorio Chorale, Chorus Pro Musica, and Bethany Oratorio Society, among others. » nolarichardson.com A specialist in the oratorio/concert repertoire, tenor Gene Stenger recently made his Carnegie Hall debut as the tenor soloist in Bernstein’s Celebrations from Mass with the Yale Glee Club and the Yale Symphony Orchestra under the baton of John Mauceri. Previous solo oratorio engagements include the role of the Evangelist, and tenor arias in the complete work of J.S. Bach’s “Christmas” Oratorio with the Colorado Bach Ensemble; the tenor soloist in Beethoven’s Mass in C major, which included a live performance broadcast on BBC 3 Radio worldwide; the title role of Judas Maccabeus in Handel’s Judas Maccabaeus, featured on PBS’s program Religion and Ethics NewsWeekly; and the tenor soloist in Bach’s St. Matthew Passion with Helmuth Rilling’s Internationale Bachakademie, which included an international tour in both Germany and Chile. Originally from Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, Gene holds a Master of Music degree in voice, specializing in early music, oratorio, and chamber ensemble from the Yale School of Music and the Yale Institute of Sacred Music. He also holds a Master of Music degree in voice performance (opera) from Colorado State University and a Bachelor of Music degree in voice performance from Baldwin Wallace University’s Conservatory of Music.
Isaac Bray is quickly earning an excellent reputation as a versatile performer in a variety of operatic roles. He has performed with opera companies around the United States including the Boston Lyric Opera, Florida Grand Opera, Central City Opera, Opera Grand Rapids, Venture Opera, and the Natchez Festival of Music. Mr. Bray was a member of the Florida Grand Opera’s Young Artist Studio for the 2014-2015 season. He was also a Bonfils-Stanton apprentice artist with Central City Opera for consecutive summer seasons in 2013 and 2014. Mr. Bray is a graduate of the Boston University Opera Institute, Boston Conservatory, and Abilene Christian University. Notable awards include the McGlone Opera Guild Award and the Central City Opera Young Artist overall award. During the 2016-2017 season, he can be seen as Dancairo in Carmen with Opera San Antonio, the baritone soloist in Belshazzar’s Feast with the Bangor Symphony Orchestra, and as Fiorello in Il barbiere di Siviglia with Opera Grand Rapids. » isaacbraybaritone.com Formed in the summer of 2013, the Argus Quartet is receiving invitations from concert series throughout the United States and abroad. During the 2016-17 season, the Argus Quartet will serve as the Ernst Stiefel Quartet-in-Residence at the Caramoor Center for Music and the Arts. The Argus Quartet recently began an appointment as the Yale School of Music’s Fellowship Quartet-in-Residence and is the first ensemble to be mentored by the Brentano String Quartet in that capacity. This season, the Argus Quartet will appear
Artist Profiles
at Carnegie Hall and the Norfolk Chamber Music Festival in programs with the Brentano String Quartet and clarinetist David Shifrin.
she currently performs with the Boston Philharmonic Orchestra and the Unitas Ensemble. Emily has attended many summer festivals, including The Brevard Music Festival, The Amelia Island Chamber The Argus Quartet believes that today’s Music Festival, The Rome Chamber Music ensembles must honor the storied chamber Festival, Colorado College Summer Music music traditions of our past while forging Festival, and The Bowdoin International a new path forward. In that spirit, their Music Festival. She has performed with repertoire includes not just staples of the prominent musicians such as Robert chamber music canon, but also a large McDuffie, Gary Hoffman, Julie Albers, number of pieces by living composers. Marc Johnson, Matt Catingub, and Adam The quartet was recently awarded a comNeiman. She has also worked with the missioning grant from Chamber Music Emerson, St. Lawrence, Miro, Orion, and America for a new work by composer and Ehnes String Quartets in her chamber music Grammy Award nominee Eric Guinivan. studies. Her primary teachers have included Lawrence Dutton, Rebecca Albers, and Beyond its commitment to performing cham- Martha Katz. ber music at the highest level, Argus aims to engage audiences in unique ways. Last fall marked the inaugural season of Argus Violist Julia Clancy is a student of Ettore in LA, a concert series that reimagines many Causa at Yale University. She recently comaspects of the traditional concert experience. pleted a B.M. with honors at the Cleveland These handcrafted presentations have some- Institute of Music with Jeffrey Irvine, Lynne thing for everyone: eclectic programming, Ramsey and Robert Vernon and a B.A. world premieres, and exciting guest artists. Magna Cum Laude in Medical Anthropology from Case Western Reserve Education and outreach are an important University. As a member of Aldeburgh part of the Argus Quartet’s mission. In Strings, she recently performed concerts addition to their teaching responsibilities in London and Snape, England, recordings at Yale, the quartet has worked with students of which will be released in early 2016 by through residencies and master classes at Signum Classics. She has performed freJames Madison University, Rockport Music, quently in Lincoln Center and Carnegie the Milken School, the Young Musicians hall with The New York String Orchestra Foundation, California State University Seminar, the Yale Philharmonia and the Long Beach, and the Birdfoot Festival. Juilliard Pre-College Orchestra. Julia has served as principal violist in the BrittenPears Orchestra, Yale Philharmonia, Sarasota Emily Brandenburg, violist, holds a B.M. Festival Orchestra, Moritzburg Festival from the Robert McDuffie Center for orchestra and Lorin Maazel’s Castleton Strings, a M.M. from New England Con- Orchestra. As a soloist, she has performed servatory, and is currently pursuing a with the CIM orchestra as winner of their M.M.A. with Ettore Causa at Yale Uni2013 concerto competition as well as the versity. Being an avid orchestra musician, Sound Symphony in 2010.
Upcoming Events Wendy Sharp, violin october 16
Faculty Artist Series School of Music faculty violinist Wendy Sharp performs works by Bach, Arthur Foote, YSM alumnus Kevin Puts, and YSM faculty composer Hannah Lash, with pianist Joel Wizansky Morse Recital Hall | Sunday | 3 pm free admission
Alan Held Master Class october 17
Doris Yarick Cross, artistic director Students from the Yale Opera studio will perform music by Mozart, Massenet, Bizet, and more. Morse Recital Hall | Monday | 7 pm free admission
Works by Martin Bresnick october 18
Faculty Artist Series In honor of School of Music faculty composer Martin Bresnick’s 70th birthday, the Yale Percussion Group, YSM faculty guitarist Benjamin Verdery, YSM alumnus Elly Toyoda, and pianist Lisa Moore perform Bresnick’s Joaquin is Dreaming, Bird as Prophet, Ishi’s Song and Caprichos Enfáticos Morse Recital Hall | Tuesday | 7:30 pm free admission
Lunchtime Chamber Music october 19
Wendy Sharp, artistic director Music for a variety of chamber ensembles Center for British Art | Wednesday| 12:30 pm free admission
David Fung, piano october 20
Doctor of Musical Arts Recital Pianist David Fung presents a DMA recital featuring performances of works by Mozart, Schubert, Scarlatti, Ravel, and YSM alumnus Samuel Adams Morse Recital Hall | Thursday | 7:30 pm free admission
PRISM Quartet october 25
Oneppo Chamber Music Series The acclaimed saxophone ensemble performs works by Bach, Gershwin, Schumann, and YSM faculty composer Martin Bresnick Morse Recital Hall | Tuesday | 7:30 pm Tickets start at $26 • Students $13
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If you do not intend to save your program, please recycle it in the baskets at the exit doors. Robert Blocker, Dean
Voices
Based on The Inferno of Dante
baritone Prologue, Virgil, Gate, Ulysses, Ugolino tenor Dante soprano Beatrice, Francesca, Pier della Vigna, Bocca
yale school of music october 15, 2016
I. THE BEGINNING (Inferno I, II) tenor. (As Dante) Nel mezzo del cammin di nostra vita mi ritrovai per una selva oscura, ché la diritta via era smarrita. Ahi quanto a dir qual era è più morte. Midway on our life's journey, I found myself In dark woods, the right road lost. To tell About those woods is hard—so tangled and rough And savage that thinking of it now, I feel The old fear stirring: death is hardly more bitter. And yet, to treat the good I found there as well I'll tell what I saw, though how I came to enter I cannot well say, being so full of sleep Whatever moment it was I began to blunder Off the true path. But when I came to stop Below a hill that marked one end of the valley That had pierced my heart with terror, I looked up Toward the crest and saw its shoulders already Mantled in rays of that bright planet that shows The road to everyone, whatever our journey. Then I could feel the terror begin to ease That churned in my heart's lake, all that long night. While I was ruining myself back down to the deep, Someone appeared—one who seemed nearly to fade As though from long silence. (To VIRGIL):
“Living man or shade, Have pity and help me, whichever you may be! baritone. (As Virgil) No living man, though once I was. A Mantuan, I lived in good Augustus's Rome, the time Of the false gods who lied. A poet, I sang Aeneas, Anchises' son, who came from Troy When that great city and all its towers were burned. But you—why go back down to such misery?
Why not ascend the delightful mountain, source And principle that causes every joy? tenor. (As Dante) Then are you Virgil? Are you the font that pours So overwhelming a river of human speech? The glory and light all poets follow are yours, You are my guide and author. Please help me master— Help me defy the Beast that drives me down, The Beast that makes my veins and pulses shudder. baritone. (As Virgil) Come: follow me, and I will be your guide Away from here and through an eternal place: To hear the cries of despair, and to behold Ancient tormented spirits as they lament In chorus the second death they must abide. tenor. (As Dante) O Poet, please—by the God you did not know— Help me escape this evil that I face, Lead me to witness the multitude of woe. But first appraise my powers: who am I For such a voyage? I'm no Aeneas or Paul. Truly I have my fears of playing the fool To embark on such a thing: I think you know My meaning, master, better than I can say. baritone. (As Virgil) I think I do understand, and if I do, Cowardice grips your spirit—which can twist Anyone from the noblest enterprise As a flash of light can startle a shying beast. To ease your burden of fear, I will disclose Why I came here, and what I heard that compelled Me first to feel compassion for you: it was A lady's voice that called me where I dwelled In Limbo—a lady so blessed and fairly featured I prayed her to command me. Her eyes out-jewelled The stars in splendor.
soprano. (As Beatrice) O generous Mantuan spirit, Whose fame lives still, that the world will still inherit As long as the world itself shall live: my friend— Who's been no friend of Fortune—is lost, impeded On a barren slope, and fear has turned him round, To lose himself, if he remains unaided. Go now, with your fair speech and what is needed To save him; offer the help you have to give Before he is lost, and I will be consoled. I am Beatrice, come from where I crave To be again, who ask this. As love has willed, So have I spoken. And when I return Before my Lord, He will hear your praises told. baritone. (As Virgil) And then that lady turned toward me the glory Of her eyes lucent with tears—which made me hurry To rescue you where the beast blocked you. Therefore, What is this? Why, why should you hold back? Why be a coward rather than bolder, freer— Since in the court of heaven, for your sake Such blessed ladies watch, and words of mine Have promised a good as great as you might seek? tenor. (As Dante) As flowers bent and shrunken by night at dawn Unfold and straighten on their stems, to wake Brightened by sunlight, so I grew strong again— Good courage coursing through my heart, I spoke Like one set free: “How full of true compassion Was she who helped me, how courteous and quick Were you to follow her bidding—and your narration Has restored my spirit. I'll keep my first intention. From now, we two will share one will together: You are my teacher, my master, and my guide.” Then, when my master moved, I followed after— And entered on that deep and savage road.
II. THROUGH THE GATES, PAOLO AND FRANCESCA (Inferno III, V) tenor. (As Dante) I saw dark words inscribed above a gate: baritone. (As the Inscription on the Gates of Hell) Through me you enter into the city of woes. Through me you enter into eternal pain. Through me you enter the population of loss. Justice moved my high maker, in power divine, Wisdom supreme, love primal. no things were Before me not eternal; eternal remain. Abandon all hope, you who enter here tenor. (As Dante) Master, please tell me: what do these words mean? baritone. (As Virgil) Here's where you have to leave behind all fear. tenor. (As Dante) To encourage me, he put his hand in mine, And brought me where we saw so many souls I hadn't thought that death had taken so many. baritone. (As Virgil) Here, Charon the boatman with his eyes of fire Calls them, and strikes at laggards with his oar. tenor. (As Dante) They flew from the bank when they were called, as sure As trained falcons. Before one throng was ferried Across dark water, new souls crowded the shore. baritone. (As Virgil) They are eager to find their way across: the goad Of divine justice spurs them ahead: their fear Has been transmuted to a strange desire. tenor. (As Dante) As winter starlings riding on their wings Form crowded flocks, so spirits dip and veer, Foundering in the wind's rough buffetings, Upward or downward, driven here and there With never ease from pain nor hope of rest. As chanting cranes will form a line in air,
So I saw souls come uttering cries, wind-tossed, And lofted by the storm. . . . (To VIRGIL)
Poet— could I Speak with those two who move along together, And seem so light upon the wind? baritone. (As Virgil) When they drift closer—then entreat them hither, In the name of love that leads them: they will respond. tenor. (As Dante) Soon their course shifted, and the merciless weather Battered them toward us. I called against the wind: “O wearied souls! If Another does not forbid, Come speak with us.” As doves whom desire has summoned, With raised wings steady against the current, glide Guided by will to the sweetness of their nest, So leaving the flock where Dido was, the two sped Through the malignant air till they had crossed To where we stood—so strong was the compulsion Of my loving call. They spoke across the blast: soprano. (As Francesca of Rimini) O living soul, who with courtesy and compassion Voyage through black air visiting us who stained The world with blood: if heaven's King bore affection For such as we are, suffering in this wind, Then we would pray to Him to grant you peace For pitying us in this, our evil end. Now we will speak and hear as you may please To speak and hear, while the wind, for our discourse, Is still. My birthplace is a city that lies Where the Po finds peace with all its followers. Love, which in gentle hearts is quickly born, Seized him for my fair body—which, in a fierce Manner that still torments my soul, was torn Untimely away from me. Love, which absolves None who are loved from loving, made my heart burn With joy so strong that as you see it cleaves Still to him, here. Love gave us both one death. Caina awaits the one who took our lives.
tenor. (As Dante) These words were borne across from them to us. When I had heard her words, I lowered my head. baritone. (As Virgil) What are you thinking? tenor. (As Dante)
Alas, That sweet conceptions and passion so deep Should bring them here! . . . Francesca, your suffering makes me weep For sorrow and pity—but tell me, in the hours Of sweetest sighing, how and in what shape Or manner did Love first show you those desires So hemmed by doubt? soprano. (As Francesca of Rimini) No sadness is greater Than when in misery recalling over again Memories of joy, as your teacher knows is true. But if you have so great a craving to measure Our love's first root, I'll tell it, with the fitness Of one who weeps and tells. One day, for pleasure, We read of Lancelot, by love constrained: Alone, suspecting nothing, at our leisure. Sometimes at what we read our glances joined, Looking from the book each to the other's eyes, And then the color in our faces drained. But one particular moment alone it was Defeated us: the longed-for smile, it said, Was kissed by that most noble lover: at this, This one, who now will never leave my side, Kissed my mouth, trembling. A Galeotto, that book! And so was he who wrote it; that day we read No further. tenor. (As Dante) All the while the one shade spoke, The other at her side was weeping; my pity Overwhelmed me and I felt myself go slack: Swooning as in death, I fell like a dying body.
III. THE WOOD OF THE SUICIDES (Canto XIII) baritone. (As Virgil) Now, we move forward into woods unmarked By any path. The leaves not green, earth-hued; The boughs not smooth, knotted and crooked-forked; No fruit, but poison thorns, and harpies nest in the trees. tenor. (As Dante) On every side, I hear wailing voices grieve, But I see no one there: I am bewildered, baritone. (As Virgil) If you pluck off a twig of this foliage That's all around us, your thoughts may also change. tenor. (As Dante) I will twist off a shoot of this great thornbush— It moaned aloud! soprano. (As Pier della Vigna) Why have you torn me? Do you have no pity? Once we were human, though now our flesh is wood: Your hand should show some mercy. tenor. (As Dante)
The sound that flames Make when they spurt from a green log oozing sap, Hissing with escaping air—so that branch flowed With words and blood together. I dropped the twig. baritone. (As Virgil) O wounded spirit, had been able to believe Or understand, I wouldn't have made him see. The fact the mind refuses prompted me, So his hand proved what the mind at first refuses. But tell him who you are, so that his praises May revive your fame, up in the world above. soprano. (As Pier della Vigna) I am Pier della Vigna, who possessed Both keys to Frederick the Emperor's heart— Unlocking and locking with so soft a twist I kept his secrets from almost any other.
To this, my glorious office, I stayed so true I lost both sleep and life. Envy, that never Takes its whore's eyes from Caesar's retinue— Envy, that fatal Vice of courts—inflamed All minds against me; and they, inflamed so, So inflamed my ruler that the honors I claimed In gladness were converted into pain. My mind, in its disdainful temper, assumed Dying would be a way to escape disdain, And made me treat my juster self unjustly. And by this tree's strange roots, I swear again: I never betrayed my lord, who was so worthy Of honor. If you return to the world above, Either of you, please comfort my memory Still prostrate from the blow that Envy gave. And I— I made my own house be my gallows.
IV. ULYSSES (Inferno, XXVI) tenor. (As Dante) Now, many as the fireflies a peasant sees In summer, at the hour when the fly gives way To the mosquito) all down a valley's face, We saw flames moving over Hell's ninth fosse. baritone. (As Virgil) Within these flames are spirits; deceivers here Walk folded into fire. tenor. (As Dante)
Who is in that fire Which at its top is divided into two? baritone. (As Virgil) Tormented Ulysses and Diomedes, In that one flame they grieve for their device, The horse that made the door through which went forth The Romans into Troy. Within their fire Now they lament their guile.
tenor. (As Dante) If they can speak within those coats of flame— If great Ulysses himself might speak to us— Do not forbid my waiting here for them. As they approached, the fire increased its beating As flames will do in wind, so its vibrating Tip, acting as a tongue, flung out a voice baritone. (As Ulysses) When Circe had detained me more than a year And after that length of time I parted from her, Not fondness for my son, nor any claim Of reverence for my father, nor love I owed Penelope— nothing could overcome My longing for experience of the world, Of human vice and goodness. So I sailed out Again on the open seas, accompanied By a small number of men that still had not Deserted me, in a single ship. One coast I saw, and then another, and we got As far as Spain, Morocco, Sardinia, a host Of islands that the churning sea bathes round. Then, when my aging crew and I had passed The narrow outlet where Hercules let stand Markers beyond which not to sail, I spoke: “Brothers we have reached the west,” I told my men, Through a hundred thousand perils, surviving all: Our lives are near the end: we should not choose To refuse more experience—beyond the sun Leading us onward—of the world which has No people we know of. Consider well your seed: You were not born to live as a mere brute does, But for the pursuit of knowledge and the good.” Then all of my companions grew so keen To sail on, roused by this little speech I made, I would have found them difficult to restrain. Turning our stern toward the morning light, We made wings of our oars, in an insane Flight, under the stars, now, of the other pole—
Our own star fallen so low, no sign of it Rose from the sea. The moon's low face glowed full Five times, and still we sailed across the deep, When dim in the distance we saw a mountaintop: It seemed the highest I had ever seen. We celebrated—but soon began to weep, For from the new-found land a storm had grown, Rising to strike the forepart of the ship. It whirled our vessel round, and round again With all the waters three times, lifting up The stern the fourth, and rose, and crashed to press The prow beneath the surface, and did not stop Until the sea had closed up over us. tenor. (As Dante) The grieving flame departed, the tip's sharp point Tossing and twisting as it moved away.
V. THE TRAITORS, IN ICE: BOCCA (Inferno XXXII) tenor. (As Dante) When we were deep in the darkness of the pit Beneath the giant's feet, much farther down, I heard a voice intone, from underfoot: soprano. (As Bocca) Be careful how you step—don't set your feet Onto the heads of us wretched bretheren. tenor. (As Dante) I turned, and saw before me and underfoot A lake that ice made less like water than glass; And spirits— pale and livid to where the cheeks Turn color with shame—were locked inside the ice, Teeth chattering the note a stork's beak makes. Each held his face turned down; they testified Cold by their mouths, and misery in their eyes, Lips purple from cold: In that eternal chill— I don't know whether by will or fate or chance—
Walking among the heads I struck my foot Hard in the face of one, with violence That set him weeping as he shouted out: soprano. (As Bocca) Why trample on me? Is it that you have come To add more vengeance for Montaperti's defeat? tenor. (As Dante) And who are you, who dares to scold like that? soprano. (As Bocca) No, who are you—who are you, who thus contrive To go through Antenora striking the head And cheeks of others— which even were you alive Would be too much. tenor. (As Dante)
Alive is what I am, And you should know, if fame is what you crave, Then you might value having me write your name Among those I record. soprano. (As Bocca)
What I desire Is quite the opposite—go!—be gone, and come To trouble me no more, rude as you are. tenor. (As Dante) Then I reached out and seized him by the hair And shook his scruff. Now name yourself forthwith Or not a hair remains!— what is your name? soprano. (As Bocca) Although you pluck me hairless in your wrath, I'll neither tell nor show you who I am! tenor. (As Dante) Already I had twisted round my palm A length of hair, and pulled some clumps right out, And he was barking, with his eyes held down, When a new voice called out— baritone. (As Man of Duera)
Bocca, what is it— What ails you, Bocca? Are you so tired of the tune Of chattering jaws that now you're barking, too?
What devil is at you, Bocca? tenor. (As Dante)
Now, I am done: I know your name!— no need to speak with you, Accursed traitor, for now, to your disgrace— Bocca!— I'll report about you what is true. soprano. (As Bocca) Then get yourself away . . . tell what you choose.
VI. UGOLINO tenor. (As Dante) Next, I saw two shades frozen in a single hole— Packed so close, one head hooded the other one; The way the starving devour their bread, the soul Above had clenched the other with his teeth Where the brain meets the nape. And at the skull And other parts, as Tydeus berserk with wrath Gnawed at the head of Menalippus, he chewed. [to Ugolino] You, showing such bestial hatred for him beneath, Whom you devour: tell me your reason, And, on condition that your grievance is right, Knowing both who you are and what wrong deed This one committed against you, I may yet Repay you by retelling whatever you say, Up in the world above . . . I Pausing in his savage meal, the sinner raised His mouth and wiped it clean along the hair Left on the head whose back he had laid waste. baritone. (As Ugolino)
You ask me to endure Reliving a grief so desperate, the thought Torments my heart even as I prepare
To tell it. But if my words are seeds, with fruit Of infamy for this traitor that I gnaw, I will both speak and weep within your sight.
I was Count Ugolino, you must know: This is Archbishop Ruggieri. You will hear Why I am such a neighbor to him as this: How, through my trust and his devices, I bore First being taken, then killed, no need to trace; But things which you cannot have heard about— The manner of my death, how cruel it was— I shall describe, and you can tell from that If he has wronged me. A slit in the Tower Mew (Called Hunger's Tower after me, where yet Others will be closed up) had let me view Several moons already, when my bad dream Came to me, piercing the future's veil right through: This man appeared as lord of the hunt; he came Chasing a wolf and pups, with his lean hounds Obeying him, well-trained and eager; his troop: Gualandi, Sismondi, Lanfranchi. With no escape, After a short run, father and sons seemed spent; I saw their flanks, that sharp fangs seemed to tear. I woke before dawn, hearing the complaint Of my own children, who were with me there, Whimpering in their sleep and asking for bread. You grieve already, or truly cruel you are, As you think of what my heart began to dread— And if not now, then when do you shed a tear? They were awake now, with the hour when food Was usually brought us drawing near, And each of us apprehensive from his dream. And then I heard them nailing shut the door Into that fearful tower—a pounding that came From far below. Hearing that noise, I stared Into my children's faces, not speaking to them. Inside me I was turned to stone, so hard I could not weep; the children wept. And my Little Anselmo, peering at me, inquired: “Father, what ails you?” And still I did not cry, Nor did I answer, all that day and night Until the next sun dawned. When one small ray
Found its way into our prison, and I made out In their four faces the image of my own, I bit my hands for grief; when they saw that, They thought I did it from my hunger's pain, And suddenly rose. “Father: our pain,” they said, “Will lessen if you eat us—you are the one Who clothed us in this wretched flesh: we plead For you to be the one who strips it away.” I calmed myself to grieve them less. We stayed Silent through that and then the following day. Oh you hard earth, why didn't you open then? When we had reached the fourth day, Gaddo lay Stretched at my feet where he had fallen down: “Father, why don't you help me?” he said, and died. And surely as you see me, so one by one I watched the others fall till all were dead, Between the fifth day and the sixth. And I, Already going blind, groped over my brood— Calling to them, though I had watched them die, For two long days. And then the hunger had more Power than even sorrow had over me. tenor. When he had finished, with a sideways stare He gripped the skull again in his teeth, which ground Strong as a dog's against the bone he tore.
VII. THE ASCENT FROM HELL baritone. (As Virgil) And now, the Devil himself: look down the road And see if you can make him out, ahead: There, in the exhalation of heavy mist In the hemisphere of dark, as though you spied A mill, its dark blades turning in the wind . . . tenor. (As Dante) Now we had had journeyed all the whole way down To where the shades were covered wholly by ice, Showing like straw in glass—some lying prone,
Some as though upright, with the head toward us, And others with the bottoms of the feet; And some bent like a bow, curled feet to face. We traveled till we reached the spot From which it pleased my master to have me see That creature whose beauty once had been so great; baritone. (As Virgil) Look: here is Satan, beating his batlike wings That make the winds that freeze the realm around him. tenor. (As Dante) The emperor of the realm of grief protruded From mid-breast up above the surrounding ice. A giant's height, and mine, would have provided Closer comparison than would the size Of his arm and a giant. Imagine the whole That is proportionate to parts like these. baritone. (As Virgil) If he was truly once as beautiful As he is ugly now, and raised his brows Against his Maker— he is the soul of all sorrow . . . But night is rising again, and it is time Now to depart. You have seen all of Hell. Cling tight, for it is stairs like these we'll climb To part from so much evil— the evil's flank. tenor. As Virgil instructed, I put my arms round him, And waiting until the wings were opened full He grasped the shaggy flank, and gripping still, From tuft to tuft descended through the mass Of matted hair and crusts of ice. And then, When we had reached the pivot of the thighs, Just where the haunch is at its thickest, with strain And effort my master brought around his head To where he'd had his legs: and from there on He grappled the hair as someone climbing would— So I supposed we were heading back to Hell. But pulling both of our weight, he struggled up Through a split stone, and placed me on its sill,
And climbed up toward me with his cautious step. baritone. (As Virgil)
There is below, As far from Beelzebub as one can be Within his tomb, a place one cannot know By sight, but by the sound a little runnel Makes as it wends the hollow rock its flow Has worn, descending through its winding channel: tenor. (As Dante) To get back up to the shining world from there My guide and I went into that hidden tunnel; And following its path, we took no care To rest, but climbed: he first, then I— until Through a round aperture I saw appear Some of the beautiful things that Heaven bears, Where we came forth and once more saw the stars.
VIII. EPILOGUE (From Paradiso, Canto XXXIII) trio. (As Epilogue) As I drew nearer to the end of all desire, I brought my longing’s ardor to a final height, Just as I ought. My vision, becoming pure, Entered more and more the beam of that high light That shines on its own truth. From then, my seeing Became too large for speech, which fails at a sight Beyond all boundaries, at memory’s undoing— As when the dreamer sees and after the dream The passion endures, imprinted on his being Though he can’t recall the rest. I am the same: Inside my heart, although my vision is almost Entirely faded, droplets of its sweetness come The way the sun dissolves the snow’s crust— The way, in the wind that stirred the light leaves, The oracle that the Sibyl wrote was lost.