Sardanapalus
by
Eric Martin
(From
the French of
Jean-François
Gail, 1795-1845)
(Note:
Hector Berlioz
set this French
text to music
for his 1830 prize-winning
Prix de Rome cantata,
La Mort de Sardanapale.
The finale, orchestrating
the burning and
collapse of Sardanapalus’
palace, was added
after the judging,
and produced a
sensation when
it was first performed.
This explosive
conclusion is
the only part
of Berlioz’s
cantata that has
survived in score,
and was performed
in 1995 by the
Orchestre National
de Lille. In 2003,
Naxos released
it on compact
disc, along with
Berlioz’s
other Prix de
Rome cantatas.
This English translation
aims to reproduce
in poetry the
musical fury of
Berlioz’s
1830 composition.
It narrates the
last hours of
Sardanapalus’
reign —
its unrestrained
sensuality, its
political intrigues,
and its glorious
conclusion, with
the monarch perishing
at his own hand
amid the flames
of his burning
palace, worldly
possessions, and
devoted slaves.
The verse form
is the tetrameter
quatrain, entirely
in trochaic meter
for vocal emphasis.
Stage directions
supplement the
narrative provided
by the spoken
text.)
[THE
PLEASURE-PALACE
OF SARDANAPALUS,
AT DUSK.]
SARDANAPALUS.
Night, at last,
bedims the mountains.
Evening’s
cool arouses sense.
Murmuring tones
from splashing
fountains
Chase away our
somnolence.
Love, for us a
new aurora
Dawns. —
But why such anxious
eyes? —
Why such frightened
tones, Azura?
—
Here, amidst such
revelries?
Hush! —
The clash of arms
resounding
In your heart
inspires tears.
Nineveh yet stands,
confounding
All your vain
and worthless
fears.
Sing, Azura! —
Strum your lyre!
—
Blend its soft
notes with your
own!
None can kindle
my desire —
None, excepting
you alone!
AZURA,
singing.
Arousing winds
from India
Incense the streets
of Nineveh
With an unfailing
scent:
For us, then,
here — again
this night —
Prolong the pleasures
of delight,
Too often transient.
Seductive Bayadères,
arise,
Distract the king’s
enamored eyes
With dances and
allures.
Pour out, incessantly,
your charms,
Till he, in turn,
with clasping
arms
Your sighing heart
immures.
CHORUS
OF CONCUBINES.
Sing, Azura! —
Strum your lyre!
—
Blend its soft
notes with your
own!
For none can sate
the king’s
desire —
None, excepting
you alone!
[BACCHANAL.
— ENTER
A MESSENGER.]
SARDANAPALUS,
angered.
Slave! —
You dare disrupt
my leisure? —
Who has let you
in these rooms?
—
Bear you tributary
treasure? —
Speak! —
Death’s
eye upon you looms!
—
[ALARUMS.]
MESSENGER.
Doubtless, sir,
these slaves have
left you
Blind to popular
unrest.
We of armies have
bereft you —
Throneless, crownless,
dispossessed.
Life and liberty
we leave you.
All we ask is
you lay down
Kingly cares,
which do deceive
you,
Casting off a
faithless crown.
SARDANAPALUS.
Never! —
No! — Though
ease may’ve
cost me
Scepter, throne,
and kingdom wide
—
Though this leisure
may have lost
me
My delights, I’ve
still my pride.
Gods, not men,
impose damnation
On whomever they
despise.
Sol unrivaled
rules creation
—
Night alone brings
his demise.
‘Life and
liberty’
you grant me —
These are not
the hopes of kings!
You insult and
disenchant me,
Offering such
worthless things!
CHORUS
OF EUNUCHS.
‘Life and
liberty’
you grant him
—
But these are
not the hopes
of kings.
These insult and
disenchant him
—
Slaves and women
crave such things.
[EXIT
THE MESSENGER.
— ALARUMS.]
SARDANAPALUS.
All is fleeting.
— Thus let
fire
Burn the pomps
that fly from
me.
Gather near —
a living pyre
—
Fueling one last
revelry.
Mithra, for my
forfeit, grant
ye
That my name might
live always!
With these pleasures,
which enchant
me,
Take the last
of my good days.
Power, glory,
worldly pleasures
—
All were mine,
as King of Kings!
Fate, alas! has
spoiled those
treasures. —
Think no more
upon such things
—
That a noble death,
befitting
Me, might of my
glories sing:
Never bowing,
nor submitting
—
Ever a courageous
king!
[HE
IGNITES THE PYRE.]
BOTH
CHORUSES.
Thus, a noble
death, befitting
You, shall all
your glories sing!
Neither bowing,
nor submitting
—
Thus you die,
courageous king!
[CONFLAGRATION.]
©
2007 by Eric Martin
|