And now for some culture: The aria, “Per la gloria d’adorarvi” from Griselda, a dramma per musica in three acts composed by Giovanni Bononcini. Near Palermo in Sicily, King Gualtiero has married Griselda, a peasant woman and his longtime mistress, and fears that she will not be accepted among the nobility. Concerned that a rebellion might arise, the king decides he must prove that Griselda is worthy to be their queen and the mother of their future king. He tests her virtue and steadfastness with a series of cruel ordeals, including telling her a lie that their long-lost daughter was killed on his orders. Gualtiero banishes Griselda from the court and announces that he intends to take another wife, the young woman Almirena, who is, unknown to all, their missing daughter. Almirena is highly upset over the kings proposal as she is in love with Ernesto. Meanwhile, Griselda has returned to the humble cottage where she once lived. A beautiful woman, she has caught the attention of Rambaldo, a Sicilian nobleman, who attempts to woo her. After refusing him, Rambaldo threatens to kill her infant son, Everardo, unless she agrees to marry him. Griselda refuses and flees to the palcace where she is permitted to stay as a servant to Almirena. Gualtiero, as a final test, orders Griselda to marry Rambaldo, which she refuses to his satisfaction. The king reveals his true motive for tormenting her and accepts her again as his queen to the satisfaction of Almirena and Ernesto who can now be reunited. Rambaldo, who confesses to have stirred up the nobles in the hope of winning Griselda, is forgiven. Per la gloria dadorarvi voglio amarvi, o luci care. Amando penero, ma sempre vamerò, sì, sì, nel mio penare, penerò, vamerò, luci care. Senza speme di diletto vano affetto è sospirare, ma i vostri dolci rai chi vagheggiar può mai e non, e non vamare? penerò, vamerò, luci care! For the glory of adoring you I want to love you, oh dear eyes. In love I will suffer, yet always I will love you, Yes, in my suffering: I will suffer, I will love you, dear, dear eyes. Without a hope of pleasure It is vain affection to sigh, Yet your sweet glances: Who can ever admire them, No, and not love you? I will suffer, I will love you, dear, dear eyes.
Posted on: Mon, 02 Jun 2014 02:56:54 +0000