Shakespeare’s lyrical poem “Orpheus with His Lute” comes from his play Henry VIII, where it is sung by Queen Katherine as she experiences deep sorrow and political turmoil. The myth of Orpheus has existed in various forms, but they all describe a mortal who was the son of Calliope and a Thracian king (or perhaps Apollo) and someone who many ancient writers believed was a real person.

Orpheus was a Greek hero, a seer, poet, and musician who—with his songs and magnificent lute playing—was able to bring peace to the tormented (“calm the billows of the sea”), create eternal harmony (“lasting spring”), and even bring the trees and mountains under his spell. Composer Ralph Vaughan Williams has set the text in a charming song for soprano and piano (arranged for this service as a duet for our own 2 glorious soloists). In these tumultuous and frightening times, and this season of death and rebirth, it is good to remember that the beauty of music can still soothe and uplift our souls, as it has from the beginnings of human experience.

The “Stabat Mater” is a hymn written in the 13th century that portrays the grief of Mary as she keeps vigil at the crucifixion of her son. Pergolesi composed this setting in 1736 at the age of 26, completing it shortly before his own death. It became one of his most acclaimed works and was expanded upon and embellished by many composers, including Salieri and J.S. Bach.

The duet you hear today is the first movement of the piece. It exquisitely conveys a sense of anguish, yet with a sense of nobility and grace. As Good Friday approaches, we may experience this music directly as it relates to Christian theology, but we can also let it speak to us—and for us—as an expression of the pain of loss, be it of a child, of a caretaker, or anyone who represents goodness and safety. Music of this sort can hold and surround our pain with its beauty, and soothe us with its ability to transform senselessness into form and meaning.

 

—Shaylor