Master Chorus Eastside recently began rehearsing a piece
for our upcoming Christmas concerts, a lovely setting of a fifteenth-century carol,
There Is No Rose, by Oregon composer
Clyde Thompson. I first became
acquainted with the ancient carol many years ago when, as an undergrad, I was
given an opportunity to choose and conduct a number for a school concert, one of
my earliest conducting opportunities. I
found it in an old edition of the Oxford
Book of Carols and fell in love with its simplicity and, to my ears, early
music exoticism.
A couple of things make it memorable: it’s a macaronic
carol, meaning it mixes two languages together, and the first verse acts as a
repeated refrain, which, according to the Book
of Carols, was sometimes done in liturgical processionals called sequences.
In fact, the Latin words in the first
three verses appear in the Christmas Candlemas sequence that begins
“Letabandus,” or “Come rejoicing.” That
may point to a church performance background for There is No Rose. But for us
the text is most famous as one of the movements of Benjamin Britten’s Ceremony of Carols.
The carol compares Mary, mother of Jesus, to a rose, a
common symbolism in many Latin hymns and a few English carols as well. Here is the poem, in modernized spelling,
with the translations of the Latin words in parentheses. I love the way the Latin and English phrases
intertwine in shared meaning.
There is no rose of such virtue
As is the rose that bare Jesu;
Alleluia. (Praise the Lord)
As is the rose that bare Jesu;
Alleluia. (Praise the Lord)
For in this rose containéd was
Heaven and earth in little space;
Res miranda. (wonderful thing)
Heaven and earth in little space;
Res miranda. (wonderful thing)
By that rose we may well see
There be one God in persons three,
Pares forma. (of the same form)
There be one God in persons three,
Pares forma. (of the same form)
The angels sungen, the shepherds to:
Gloria in excelsis Deo: (Glory to God in the highest)
Gaudeamus. (Glory to God)
Gloria in excelsis Deo: (Glory to God in the highest)
Gaudeamus. (Glory to God)
Leave we all this worldly mirth,
And follow we this joyful birth;
Transeamus. (Let us go)
And follow we this joyful birth;
Transeamus. (Let us go)
In the early Church the rose, the queen of flowers, gradually
came to symbolize Mary, the Rose of Heaven or the Mystical Rose.
A few early Christians were inspired by the contrast
between this lush flower and its thorny stem.
The fifth-century poet Sedulius wrote:
“As the delightful
and very gentle rose springs forth from a thorny bush without injuring the
mother that it hides with delightful charm, so Mary, from the race of the
guilty Eve, could as the second virgin wash away, with the coming sacred light,
the fault of the first virgin.”
I found the above in a very interesting paper on the
history of “rose” symbolism:
Eventually a real rose called the Mystic Rose was
developed in Mary’s honor.
There is no YouTube of Clyde’s shimmery
setting, but it matches the beauty of the imagery. The form, although compact, unfolds with
skill and subtlety. In what may be a
touch of Trinitarian symbolism it falls into three parts. The first three verses, which contemplate
Mary and the mystery of the Incarnation, use closely related melodies, but the
key center shifts with each verse, thus outlining each one in variegated
harmonic light. With the change of scene
in verse four to the angelic “Gloria in excelsis Deo” a new melody appears and
the key center moves to a bright D major.
And finally, as we are exhorted to leave worldly mirth and follow—“and
follow” repeated twice for emphasis—heavenly joy, a third melody emerges and the
music returns to the original key center, E flat, and stays there, no longer
leaping from key to key, steady as a compass needle pointing to true north.
You’ll have to imagine what the
above may sound like. Or come to our
concert and hear it for yourself. It’s
worth it!
Dr. Linda Gingrich
Artistic Director and conductor
Master Chorus Eastside
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