Canticle I, Op. 40 by Benjamin Britten - Anthony León, Tenor

In his lifetime, Britten composed five canticles. They were all written for voice and with various instrumentation. This piece was his first canticle, written in 1947 for the memorial concert for Dick Sheppard, former vicar of St Martin-in-the-Fields. Britten and Peter Pears gave the first performance.

Although not all the canticles are based on a religious text, this particular one is, and the sacred feeling is present throughout. The music is challenging, and the canticle has many sections. Instead of a song, it feels more like a cantata because of its length and movements. The text is derived from the Song of Solomon in the bible and can be interpreted in many ways. It is a love letter to the romantic interest in the book of Song of Solomon, but it can also be seen as a love letter to God (Jesus) Himself. Or, more practically speaking, a love letter from one human in love with another, as could have likely been the case for Benjamin Britten and tenor Peter Pears.

I hope to explore this music more in the future and maybe be able to record all five of Britten's canticles! Enjoy!

Recorded at Williams Hall at New England Conservatory of Music from my Master's Recital Program, May 5, 2021.

Composer: Benjamin Britten (1913-1973)
Poetry: Francis Quarles (1592-1644)
Piano: JJ Penna
Location: Williams Hall, New England Conservatory of Music, Boston, MA
Date: May 5, 2021

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LYRICS:
Francis Quarles

Ev’n like two little bank-divided brooks,
That wash the pebbles with their wanton streams,
And having rang’d and search’d a thousand nooks,
Meet both at length at silver-breasted Thames,
Where in a greater current they conjoin:
So I my best-beloved’s am; so he is mine.
Ev’n so we met; and after long pursuit,
Ev’n so we joyn’d; we both became entire;
No need for either to renew a suit,
For I was flax and he was flames of fire:
Our firm-united souls did more than twine;
So I my best-beloved’s am; so he is mine.
If all those glitt’ring Monarchs that command
The servile quarters of this earthly ball,
Should tender, in exchange, their shares of land,
I would not change my fortunes for them all:
Their wealth is but a counter to my coin:
The world’s but theirs; but my beloved’s mine.
Nor Time, nor Place, nor Chance, nor Death can bow
My least desires unto the least remove;
He’s firmly mine by oath; I his by vow;
He’s mine by faith; and I am his by love;
He’s mine by water; I am his by wine,
Thus I my best-beloved’s am; thus he is mine.
He is my Altar; I, his Holy Place;
I am his guest; and he, my living food;
I’m his by penitence; he mine by grace;
I’m his by purchase; he is mine, by blood;
He’s my supporting elm; and I his vine;
Thus I my best beloved’s am; thus he is mine.
He gives me wealth; I give him all my vows:
I give him songs; he gives me length of days;
With wreaths of grace he crowns my longing brows,
And I his temples with a crown of Praise,
Which he accepts: an everlasting sign,
That I my best-beloved’s am; that he is mine.