Peleus and Thetis - A Masque William Boyce I. Overture Allegro - Largo - Gavot - Larghetto - Gavot Peter Holman Opera Restor'd This is remarkable as it is one of, if not the earliest use of the Italian sinfonia form by an English composer, being composed before 1740, possibly as early as 1733. This is yet more evidence that Boyce was not just one of the many imitators of Handel, but at the very forefront of musical development in London in the early-mid 18th Century. If written before 1738 as now seems likely, Peleus and Thetis could have prompted the revival of other older texts such as Milton's Comus by Arne (long a bitter and inferior rival of Boyce) and L'Allegro by Handel, which in turn had a large influence on Boyce's Solomon. Boyce eases us into the (then) new and unfamiliar form with a brief saccadic opening, hinting at the older French overture before launching into a rhythmically vital and attractive subject, with plenty of contrapuntal interplay between the two upper parts. The soli sections in this and subsequent movements are not so much borrowed from the concerto grosso form as a textural device, cf. the later Secular Masque overture where the opposite is the case. The second movement is languid and sorrowful, interrupted by "inconclusive" cadences, it's tempting to wonder if Boyce was painting a musical picture of the scene the curtain raises to, of Prometheus chained for eternity to the summit of Mount Caucasus with his tormentor.

A short tribute to Achilles, as protrayed by Brad Pitt from the Wolfgang Petersen film "Troy". This is an update to my "The Vengeful Achilles" video which was my very first attempt at video editing. All clips are from the movie trailer and my previous video. The song playing in the background of the video is "King Beowulf" from the 2007 film "Beowulf". This has been a John A. Sullivan Presentation, thank you for watching.

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Peleus and Thetis - A Masque William Boyce V. Air (Thetis) and Chorus But see, the mighty thunderer's here; Tremble Peleus, tremble, fly! The thunderer! the mighty thunderer! Tremble, Peleus, tremble, fly! Thetis: Julia Gooding Peter Holman Opera Restor'd

A second instalment of my paraphrases of the Cavafy canon with introductory notes. 8. SAYING NO (CHE FECE....IL GRAN RIFIUTO) To some of us there comes a crucial day when we simply have to say a Yes or No. Whoever we are it's at once apparent whether we're a Yes-man or a No-man. The Yes-man goes from strength to strength. But the No-man never changes his mind: if asked again he would still stubbornly say No, and although his No was correct, oh so correct, the decision dogs at his heels for the rest of his life. 9. SPIRITS OF OLD MEN Inside old threadbare bodies tattered like ancient carpets dwell the timeless spirits of aged men their joy and magic forgotten. Gloomed in perpetual ennui bored with life but terrified of departure clinging to it like desperate limpets, wanting and despising, drooping in their leathery rustling skins - half tragically, half comically, they endure. 10. INTERRUPTING (Metaneira, the Eleusinian queen, took Demeter as nurse for her new baby. The nereid Thetis was wife of Peleus the Thessalian king. Demeter put the baby into the fire attempting to make him immortal. Thetis tried to burn away the human portion of her children's bodies.) *** We mortals, dying creatures of the moment, intrude upon the working of the gods. In Eleusis and in Peleus' palace Demeter and Thetis, alchemists, try to transmute the base into the pure; but Metaneira, screaming and dishevelled, interrupts the transformation; terrified Peleus stops it dead in its tracks. 11. WINDOWS In the twilight of these dreary rooms whereI drag out my vacuuous life I stagger around trying to unblind some windows. I only require one window to help me see - there must be one, surely! My hands encounter nothing but bare blank wall. Perhaps the darkness is best. Light may bring a deeper disappointment. Seeing might be fresh grief. 12. TROJANS Sometimes it seems our efforts are cursed, prone to disaster like those of the Trojans. Initially we're successful, make our first move, grow stronger and bolder, leaving our shelter. Then comes a fatal lacuna - huge-muscled Achilles jumps out of the ground swearing and screaming like an armed harpy and our courage congeals in our guts. Like the Trojans, we think our luck will change if only we would steadfastly attack leaving the safety of our massive walls to fight upon the windy plain. But when the time comes, when the trumpet sounds, we tremble like cornered rats, run crazily out of the gate to left and right, fail to confront the bold enemy who stands laughing, amazed, before us. Yes, we fail; again and again we fail. The disbelieving populace, up there on the wall, all the lords and ladies, all the people are wailing and covering their eyes, bemoaning our lack of purpose, crying out at our lack of resolution, Priam and Hecuba bitterly sobbing. 13. HUGE FOOTFALLS IN THE GOLDEN HOUSE Beautiful coral eagles with wings outstretched protect the ebony bed where Nero lies in cloudy happy slumber his alabaster skin just tinged with pink in his unblemished youthful prime. But in the colder marble hall where stand the frowning ancestral heads upon their plinths of rusticated stone, how unrestful are the household gods! And all the smaller gods are there a-tremble attempting to hide their manikin forms behind the larger deities. They have heard the dull thud thud of deadly heavy footfalls on the stair and feel the foundations shaking. Faint with fear, they scramble for the dark twittering and shrieking, stumbling and tumbling, manikin on top of manikin. They know the meaning of that awful sound -- the Furies are coming for retribution! 14. MONOTONY Another dreary day after another, samely monotonous! Similar things occur over and over the echoing moment re-echoes and echoes again drawn out to a dull infinity. A month passes and starts a similar month. It's easy to foretell what lies ahead -- yesterday's boredom recurs tomorrow and identical tomorrow shows no change, the same as today.

I am rather proud of this paraphrase of Cavafy's poem since it seems to stand foursquare as a poem in English and has little of the usual appearance of a translation. I only hope I am not mistaken! 17. APOLLO'S TREACHERY At Peleus and Thetis' marriage the smiling god arose at the wedding-feast, Apollo rose and blessed the happy couple. Anticipating their son-to-come, their son Achilles, unborn, as yet unnamed, he prophesied: 'He shall never fall sick and will live long.' Thetis was chuffed knowing Apollo for an oracle and her child safe, her son as yet unnamed, as yet unborn. Years passed. The unborn son was born and grew, the countryside astonished at his beauty. All Thesally sang his praises lauded his well-set thews and handsome face. Thetis remembered what the god had said and felt secure: Achilles would live long. One day the horrified mother heard her lovely and loving son lay dead at Troy. She ripped her purple raiment, tore off and cast away her ringing bracelets and her glittering rings in her great grief. Recalling his oracle at her wedding, she could hardly believe Apollo's remembered words the poet Apollo, the seer, the lord of secrets -- how could he have been so utterly utterly wrong? And then the old men told her, the wise men said: 'Apollo himself it was who killed your son; he and the Trojans at the wall of Troy killed your beautiful son Achilles, the pride of Thesally, your boy.' Think: perhaps the seer, at the feast, was unaware that the son-to-come would be so tall and fair; perhaps he failed to foresee how all of Thesally would sing Achilles' praises, shine with his light outsparkling the immortal jealous gods.

Excerpt from the 2004 Blockbuster film, Troy, starring Brad Pitt as the legendary Greek warrior Achilles. Agamemnon of Mycenae and his army are in Thessaly, Greece, looking to expand their military might and empire. His army prepares to engage in combat against a host of soldiers under Thessaly's king, Triopas. Rather than suffer great losses, the King of Thessaly agrees to avoid unnecessary deaths by settling the matter through a decisive match between the heroes of the opposing armies. The King of Thessaly summons his greatest and most accomplished warrior, Boagrius. Agamemnon summons Achilles. A messenger boy is sent out to get him. While Achilles gets ready for battle, the boy, terrified, says that the Thessalonian he just saw was the biggest he'd ever seen, and he wouldn't dare fighting him. To this Achilles replies "That's why no one will remember your name". Achilles arrives. As Boagrius starts hurling spears towards him, Achilles starts running, gaining momentum and with his trademark "leap in the air", kills Boagrius in one fleeting move with a piercing wound from the base of his neck directly to his heart. Triopas is amazed and asks Achilles who he is, upon which Achilles reveals that he is the son of Peleus. Accepting defeat, the King of Thessaly presents Achilles with a scepter as a token for his King, which he refuses saying "He's not my King."

I've done a little tribute to Eris, the evil character from Dreamwork's "Sinbad:Legend of the Seven Seas. I've almost only used clips from the scene where Eris persuades Sinbad to get the Book of Peace for her. The music is from the movie "Corpse Bride". Summary: An Arabian sailor named Sinbad is on a quest to find the magical legendary Book of Peace, a mysterious artifact that Eris, the Greek wicked goddess of chaos, has ultimately framed him for stealing! If he fails on this quest, his childhood friend Prince Proteus of Syracuse will take Sindbad's death penalty, while Eris gains a desired foothold of power in the world of mortals. Eris in mythology: Eris was the goddess or spirit of strife, discord, contention and rivalry. She was often represented specifically as the daimon of the strife of war, who haunted the battlefield and delighted in human bloodshed. Because of Eris' disagreeable nature she was the only goddess not to be invited to the wedding of Peleus and Thetis. When she turned up anyway, she was refused admittance and, in a rage, threw a golden apple amongst the goddesses inscribed "To the fairest." Three goddesses laid claim to it, and their rivalry brought about the events which led to the Trojan War.

My first callback audition for the Varsity Show here at Columbia. There are lots of Columbia-specific references, so don't be surprised if the lyrics don't make tons of sense. This is just a computer generated file with an oboe playing the melody (but it still sounds good). I felt I needed to get something legit on the music page of my blog... Lyrics: Why am I sitting here Pulling my hair out? Just for my stupid professor It's now final's season And that is the reason I'm stuck inside my room! [spoken] Page one! Homer's the Iliad. I read this. "Sing goddess, the anger of Peleus' son and its devastation." (pause) I didn't read this. I didn't even sparknotes this! I am so screwed. [sung] Tomorrow's it The day of judgement for this class And the exam; I know it's gonna kick my ass Multiple choice and an essay, God it's rough! At Columbia where your best is never enough Look at the core Their answer for what life's supposed to be The core is hell! And the source of your insanity Expectations here are unbelievably high At Columbia Where it's never enough just to try Look at all the things around you A city out there to explore But you've got miles and piles of homework And a final you just can't ignore And this is what it's like Being a Columbian You push on through Only to get left behind And if it's just too much to handle Remember life is sometimes tough This is Columbia University Where you're never good enough

Equip: - Sapros the corrupter - Armor of Peleus - Hallowed stigian Helm of might + Legendary crystal of Erebus - Conqueror's Bracers - Barbarian's spiked greaves - Ancile - Phantom bane - Adroit loop - Pendant of Immortal rage - Talisman of the Jade Emperor

Nadrealisti na casu snimaju prvu seriju

This is from Yeats' last poems. As he got older he, like so many of us, found that the restraints of his youth and middle age fell from him. 'Why should not old men be mad?' he asked in one of these late poems. And in another: You think it horrible that lust and rage should dance attention upon my old age; they were not such a plague when I was young; what else have I to spur me into song? 'News for the Delphic Oracle' is a melange of all his old favourite themes: Irish mythology, Greek myth and philosophy, dolphins and lust. And a wonderful poem it is especially if one reads it (as Yeats would surely have wished) with due attention to metre, rhythm and rhyme. Then it is very nearly song. I made two versions of this poem, because on Windows Movie Maker it is impossible to narrate timeline while audio-vision is playing: you can have my voice with accompanying music and pictures, but you cannot hear and see me and listen to music and watch pictures at the same time. So: I present both versions for your delight. If you have a preference, please tell me! (Perhaps Microsoft will issue a new improved program so that one can hear and see everything at once!!) The music is by Ravel, the Daphnis and Chloe Suite. News for the Delphic Oracle There all the golden codgers lay, there the silver dew, and the great water sighed for love, and the wind sighed too. Man-picker Niamh leant and sighed by Oisin on the grass; there sighed amid his choir of love tall Pythagoras. Plotinus came and looked about, the salt-flakes on his breast, and having stretched and yawned awhile lay sighing like the rest. Straddling each a dolphin's back and steadied by a fin, those Innocents re-live their death, their wounds open again. The ecstatic waters laugh because their cries are sweet and strange, through their ancestral patterns dance, and the brute dolphins plunge until, in some cliff-sheltered bay where wades the choir of love proffering its sacred laurel crowns, they pitch their burdens off. Slim adolescence that a nymph has stripped, Peleus on Thetis stares. Her limbs are delicate as an eyelid, Love has blinded him with tears; but Thetis belly listens. Down the mountain walls from where Pan's cavern is intolerable music falls. Foul goat-head, brutal arm appear, belly shoulder, bum, flash fishlike; nymphs and satyrs copulate in the foam.

I accidentally smashed my thumb with a hammer. You are seeing the few months after the incident. One frame every day (almost. I slacked off in the end).

This is from Yeats' last poems. As he got older he, like so many of us, found that the restraints of his youth and middle age fell from him. 'Why should not old men be mad?' he asked in one of these late poems. And in another: You think it horrible that lust and rage should dance attention upon my old age; they were not such a plague when I was young; what else have I to spur me into song? 'News for the Delphic Oracle' is a melange of all his old favourite themes: Irish mythology, Greek myth and philosophy, dolphins and lust. And a wonderful poem it is especially if one reads it (as Yeats would surely have wished) with due attention to metre, rhythm and rhyme. Then it is very nearly song. I made two versions of this poem, because on Windows Movie Maker it is impossible to narrate timeline while audio-vision is playing: you can have my voice with accompanying music and pictures, but you cannot hear and see me and listen to music and watch pictures at the same time. So: I present both versions for your delight. If you have a preference, please tell me! (Perhaps Microsoft will issue a new improved program so that one can hear and see everything at once!!) The music is from Ravel's Daphnis and Chloe. News for the Delphic Oracle There all the golden codgers lay, there the silver dew, and the great water sighed for love, and the wind sighed too. Man-picker Niamh leant and sighed by Oisin on the grass; there sighed amid his choir of love tall Pythagoras. Plotinus came and looked about, the salt-flakes on his breast, and having stretched and yawned awhile lay sighing like the rest. Straddling each a dolphin's back and steadied by a fin, those Innocents re-live their death, their wounds open again. The ecstatic waters laugh because their cries are sweet and strange, through their ancestral patterns dance, and the brute dolphins plunge until, in some cliff-sheltered bay where wades the choir of love proffering its sacred laurel crowns, they pitch their burdens off. Slim adolescence that a nymph has stripped, Peleus on Thetis stares. Her limbs are delicate as an eyelid, Love has blinded him with tears; but Thetis belly listens. Down the mountain walls from where Pan's cavern is intolerable music falls. Foul goat-head, brutal arm appear, belly shoulder, bum, flash fishlike; nymphs and satyrs copulate in the foam.

Dionysos & His Train is one of the more ironical poems. And Achilles' Horses more of the more emotional. 19. DIONYSOS AND HIS TRAIN The sculptor Damon (best of the rest in the Peloponness) in priceless Parian chisels and smooths the last of his great Dionysos and His Train, a gorgeous unrolled length of bass-relief. First comes the boy himself, the Fat Imbiber wobbling out from the marble, intoxicated glory and great god, hiccup on legs. Next troop Drink-to-the-Moment with Drink-Some-More while Drunkenness itself sloshes the satyrs' wine from an amphora where the ivies twine among thick clustered grapes. A lacuna: sleepy Sweetwine on the ground. Follow the twin melodious singers In-Tune and Lyric Song; while Lets-Have-Fun romps merrily along waving aloft a dangerously singeing flame. Last comes I'm-the-Only-Sober-Man desperately trying not to laugh or spill. The sculptor Damon (best of the rest in the Peloponness) carved these. Carving, he dreamed of the generous fees about to be bestowed on him and his by the great beast of Syracuse, the king. He'll live in style and put aside the chisel; become a politician - what a thought! At last he will be treated as he ought, Something in the Senate and the Square! 20. ACHILLES' HORSES Achilles' immortal horses watched with compassion the death of their master's devoted companion, Patroklos, brave virile and beautiful Patroklos. Warm tears flowed from their faithful eyes to bathe the fateful earth where huddled the much-adored and lovely charioteer. Shaking their silken heads, tossing their unshorn manes matted and soiled from gruelling war, with anguished feet they pounded the compacted, resonant earth. They mourned their friend, they mourned the manly Patroklos, Patroklos the mortal, his spirit departed from his mangled breathless body, flown into the void of the hereafter, into the dark. Zeus saw the creatures' tears and grieved for them: 'Unthinkingly at Peleus' wedding I gave you in gift, my unhappy horses. What business have you among these mortals, dying creatures of the moment, toys of fate? You are eternally youthful eternally vulnerable to the sorrows that beset these fragile souls.' It was for this, for this, this sad decay and dying that they wept.

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A modern take on the Judgment of Paris story from Greek mythology. Filmed at Dartmouth College, Summer 2008, for Classical Studies 4.

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