Aux plaisirs aux délices bergères, Molly Netter, soprano. 8K video from our _Secret Garden_ program, April 2026. Voices of Music Hanneke van Proosdij & David Tayler, directors Molly Netter, soprano Cheryl Ann Fulton, triple harp Shira Kammen, violin d'amore Peter Maund, percussion Elisabeth Reed, viola da gamba Hanneke van Proosdij, harpsichord David Tayler, baroque guitar Music: Boby Borisov, audio engineer and ambisonics design Video: Lloyd Hryciw & Doris Du 8K technology: David Tayler Produced by Hanneke van Proosdij & David Tayler Post Production: David Tayler & Andrew Levy Audio mastering, video cutting and final 8K color and render: David Tayler Aux plaisirs, aux delices bergeres, Il faut estre du temps ménageres : Car il s'escoule & se perd d'heure en heure, Et le regret seulement en demeure. A l'amour, au plaisir, au boccage, Employés les beaux jours de vostre âge.
Maintenant la saison vous convie De paser en aymant vostre vie : Des-ja la Terre à pris sa robe verte, D'herbe & de fleurs la campagne est couverte. A l'amour . . .
Le cristal fugitif des fontaines Va bordant les chemins & les plaines : L'Aurore espend au Ciel autant de roses Qu'elle en descouvre en la terre d'escloses. A l'amour . . . On ne void que des feux & des dances, On n'entend que chansons & cadances, Et le vent mesme escoutant ces merveilles, Ferme la bouche, & non pas les oreilles. A l'amour . . .
Ce qui vit, qui ce meurt, qui respire, D'amour parle, ou murmure, ou soupire : Aussi le coeur qui n'en sent la pointure S'il est vivant, il est contre nature. A l'amour . . .
To your sports and delights, yee blith lasses ! Catch gray Time by the beard as hee passes : Trust not his bald necke ; t'will slip-of your collers ; And, by this evasion, you'll seeme ill Schollers. Spend, in bowres and thicke groves (Loves darke stages) The shining forenoone of your ages.
Now the Yeares gallant Season doth call you To loves Hall, goe ! what ever befall you, Earth from her Coat all Snow argent now teareth, And, for it, Flowres or in a Field vert beareth. Spend, in bowres . . .
Bugle-lac'd are the skirts of the Mountaines With the fugitive glasse of the Fountaines : Morne, urg'd Envie, brave Flora opposes, And dares her to See her at Vying roses. Spend, in bowres . . .
Bonfire and Dances are each eies pleasure ; Winged feet to swift tunes beating measure : AEolus opens his eare : to these wonders, And shuts-in his Mouth from breathing of thunders. Spend, in bowres . . .
Natures whole armie, that gards Lifes banner, By Loves Colours is made to looke wanner ; And sure that heart, that his hand makes not tremble, Is dead, though the spirits may life resemble. Spend, in bowres . . . Translation by Edward Filmer (c.1654–1703)
#Guédron