Swift’s Cantata, for SATB chorus, is a setting of a peculiar text by the 18th-century Irish satirist Jonathan Swift. Noted for his sharp wit, Swift admitted to having no musical talent, but was a fervent lover of music. His “A Cantata” is a humorous send-up of the kinds of operatic texts used by popular composers of the day (Handel being chief among them). It seems Swift’s intention was for the parody to be set to music and performed, and indeed his friend, the Reverend John Echlin, did craft a setting (for soloist), which survives to this day. My setting attempts to highlight Swift’s sparkling wordplay while playing with various conventions from the Baroque musical style being caricatured; namely, Handelian counterpoint, harmony, and text painting. Swift’s Cantata was written in 2016 and premiered at the 2016 Big Sky Choral Initiative in Big Sky, Montana by The Crossing with conductor Donald Nally.
Recording: The Crossing; Donald Nally, conductor (Big Sky, Montana, 2016)
A Cantata
In harmony would you excel,
Suit your words to music well, music well,
Suit your words to your music well,
Suit your words to music well,
For Pegasus runs, runs every race
By gal-lal-lal-lal-laloping high, or level pace,
Or ambling or sweet Canterbury,
Or with a down, a high down derry.
No, no victory, victory be ever got,
By jo-o-o-o-ogling, jo-o-o-o-ogling trot.
No muse harmonious entertains,
Rough roistering, rustic, roar-oar-oaring strains,
Nor shall you twine the cra-a-a-ackling, crackling bays,
By sneaking, snivelling rou-ou-ou-oundelays.
Now slowly move your fiddle stick,
Now, tantantantantantantivi,
Now tantantantantantivi quick, quick.
Now trembling, shivering, quivering, quaking,
Set hoping, hoping, hoping hearts of lovers aching,
Fly, fly-y-y-y
Above the sky,
Rambling, gambolling, ra-a-a-a-a-ambling, gambolling,
Trolloping, lolloping, galloping,
Trolloping, lolloping, galloping, trollop,
Lolloping, trolloping, galloping,
Lolloping, trolloping, galloping, lollop,
Now cree-ee-eep, sweep, sweep, sweep the deep,
See, see, Celia, Celia dies,
Dies, dies, dies, dies, dies, dies, dies,
While true lovers’ eyes
Weeping sleep,
Sleeping weep,
Weeping sleep.
Bo peep, bo peep, bo peep,
Bo peep, peep, bo, bo peep.
Jonathan Swift (1667–1745)