Music by Georg Friedrich Händel
Words by Thomas Morell
Theodora, a Christian of noble birth (soprano)
Didymus, a Roman Officer,
converted & in love with Theodora (alto)
Septimius, his friend (tenor)
Valens, President of Antioch (bass)
Irene, a Christian (mezzo-soprano)
Chorus of Christians
Chorus of Heathens
Valens, Didymus, Septimius, Chorus of Heathens.
'Tis Dioclesian's natal day.
Proclaim throughout the bounds of Antioch
A feast, and solemn sacrifice to Jove.
Whoso disdains to join the sacred rites,
Shall feel our wrath in chastisement, or death.
And this, Septimius, take you in charge.
Go, my faithful soldier, go:
Let the fragrant incense rise,
To Jove, great ruler of the skies.
4. Chorus of Heathens
And draw a blessing down,
On his imperial crown,
Who rules the world below.
Vouchsafe, dread Sir, a gracious ear
To my request. Let not thy sentence doom
To racks and flames, all, all, whose scrup'lous minds
Will not permit them, or, to bend the knee
To gods they know not, or, in wanton mood,
To celebrate the day with Roman rites.
Art thou a Roman, and yet dar'st defend
A sect, rebellious to the gods and Rome?
Many there are in Antioch, who disdain
An idol-offering, yet are friends to Cà¦sar.
It cannot be. They are not Cà¦sar's friends,
Who own not Cà¦sar's gods. I'll hear no more.
Racks, gibbets, sword and fire,
Shall speak my vengeful ire,
Against the stubborn knee.
Nor gushing tears,
Nor ardent pray'rs,
Shall shake our firm decree.
Racks, gibbets. . . da capo
7. Chorus of Heathens
For ever thus stands fix'd the doom,
Of rebels to the gods and Rome,
While sweeter than the trumpet's sound,
Their groans and cries are heard around.
Most cruel edict! Sure, thy generous soul,
Septimius, abhors the dreadful task
Of persecution. Ought we not to leave
The free-born mind of man still ever free?
Since vain is the attempt to force belief
With the severest instrument of death?
The raptur'd soul defies the sword,
Secure of virtue's claim,
And trusting Heav'n's unerring word,
Enjoys the circling flame.
No engine can a tyrant find,
To storm the truth-supported mind.
The raptur'd soul. . . da capo
I know thy virtues, and ask not thy faith;
Enjoy it as you will, my Didymus.
Though not a Christian, for I worship still
The gods my fathers worship'd, yet I own,
Something within declares for acts of mercy.
But Antioch's President must be obey'd;
Such is the Roman discipline, while we
Can only pity, whom we dare not spare.
Descend, kind pity, heav'nly guest,
Descend, and fill each human breast
With sympathizing woe.
That liberty, and peace of mind,
May sweetly harmonize mankind,
And bless the world below.
Descend. . . da capo
Theodora, with the Christians.
Though hard, my friends, yet wholesome are the truths,
Taught in affliction's school, whence the pure soul
Rises refin'd, and soars above the world.
Fond, flatt'ring world, adieu!
Thy gaily-smiling pow'r,
Ne'er shall tempt or charm me more.
Nobler joys we now pursue.
O bright example of all goodness!
How easy seems affliction's heavy load,
While thus instructed, and companion'd thus,
As 'twere with Heav'n conversing, we look down
On the vain pomp of proud prosperity.
Bane of virtue, nurse of passions,
Soother of vile inclinations,
Such is, prosperity, thy name.
True happiness is only found,
Where grace and truth and love abound,
And pure religion feeds the flame.
Bane of virtue. . . da capo
16. Chorus of Christians
Come, mighty Father, mighty Lord,
With love our souls inspire,
While grace and truth flow from thy word,
And feed the holy fire.
Fly, fly, my brethren, heathen rage pursues us swift.
Arm'd with the terrors of insulting death.
Ah! Whither should we fly, or fly from whom?
The Lord is still the same, today, for ever,
And his protection here, and everywhere.
Though gath'ring round our destin'd heads
The storm now thickens, and looks big with fate,
Still shall thy servants wait on Thee, O Lord,
And in thy saving mercy put their trust.
As with rosy steps the morn,
Advancing, drives the shades of night,
So from virtuous toil well-borne,
Raise Thou our hopes of endless light.
Triumphant saviour, Lord of day,
Thou art the life, the light, the way!
As with rosy steps. . . da capo
19. Chorus of Christians
All pow'r in Heav'n above or earth beneath
Belongs to Thee alone,
Thou Everlasting One,
Mighty to save in perils, storm and death.
Mistaken wretches! Why thus blind to fate,
Do ye in private oratories dare
Oppose the President's decree, and scorn
With native rites to celebrate the day
Sacred to Cà¦sar and protecting Jove?
Dread the fruits of Christian folly,
And this stubborn melancholy
Fond of life and liberty.
Chains and dungeons ye are wooing,
And the storm of death pursuing;
Rebels to the known decree.
Dread the fruits. . . da capo
Deluded mortal! Call it not rebellion,
That thus we persevere in spirit and truth,
To worship God: it is his dread command,
His whom we cannot, dare not, disobey,
Though death be our reward.
Death is not yet thy doom:
But worse than death to such a virtuous mind,
Which Didymus wants eloquence to praise.
Lady, these guards are order'd to convey you
To the vile place, a prostitute, to whom
Valens thinks proper to devote your charms.
Oh, worse than death indeed! Lead me, ye guards,
Lead me, or to the rack, or to the flames,
I'll thank your gracious mercy.
Angels, ever bright and fair,
Take, oh take me to your care;
Speed to your own courts my flight,
Clad in robes of virgin white.
Angels. . . da capo
Exit Theodora with Septimius.
Unhappy, happy crew! Why stand ye thus,
Wild with amazement? Say, where is my love,
My kind instructor in fair virtue's path,
My life, my Theodora? Has the tyrant
Seiz'd on his guiltless prey?
Alas! She's gone.
Too late thou cam'st to save, if in thy pow'r
To save, the fairest, noblest, best of women.
A Roman soldier led her trembling hence
To the vile place, where Venus keeps her court.
Yet on his brow reluctance seem'd to sit,
And helpless pity bade us wait our doom.
Kind Heav'n, if virtue be thy care,
With courage fire me,
Or art inspire me,
To free the captive fair.
On the wings of the wind will I fly,
With this princess to live, or this Christian to die.
Kind Heav'n. . . da capo
O love, how great thy pow'r! But greater still,
When virtue prompts the steady mind to prove
Its native strength in deeds of highest honour.
28. Chorus of Christians
Go, gen'rous, pious youth,
May all the pow'rs above
Reward thy virtuous love,
Thy constancy and truth,
With Theodora's charms,
Free from these dire alarms;
Or crown you with the blest,
In glory, peace and rest.
Valens, and Chorus of Heathens.
Ye men of Antioch, with solemn pomp,
Renew the grateful sacrifice to Jove;
And while your songs ascend the vaulted skies,
Pour on the smoking altars floods of wine,
In honour of the smiling deities,
Fair Flora, and the Cyprian queen.
30. Chorus of Heathens
Queen of summer, queen of love
And thou, cloud-compelling Jove,
Grant a long and happy reign,
To great Cà¦sar, king of men.
Wide spread his name,
And make his glory
Of endless fame
The lasting story.
Return, Septimius, to the stubborn maid,
And learn her final resolution.
If ere the sun with prone career has reach'd
The western isles, she deigns an offering
To the great gods, who subjected the world
To conqu'ring Rome, she shall be free; if not,
The meanest of my guards with lustful joy
Shall triumph o'er her boasted chastity.
33. Chorus of Heathens
Venus laughing from the skies,
Will applaud her votaries.
While seizing the treasure
We revel in pleasure,
Revenge sweet love supplies.
Theodora, in her Place of Confinement.
O thou bright sun! How sweet thy rays
To health, and liberty! But here, alas,
They swell the agonizing thought of shame,
And pierce my soul with sorrows yet unknown.
With darkness deep, as is my woe,
Hide me, ye shades of night;
Your thickest veil around me throw,
Conceal'd from human sight.
Or come thou, death, thy victim save,
Kindly embosom'd in the grave.
But why art thou disquieted, my soul?
Hark! Heav'n invites thee in sweet rapt'rous strains,
To join the ever-singing, ever-loving choir
Of saints and angels in the courts above.
Oh, that I on wings could rise,
Swiftly sailing through the skies,
As skims the silver dove!
That I might rest,
For ever blest,
With harmony and love.
Oh, that I on wings. . . da capo
Didymus and Septimius.
Long have I known thy friendly social soul,
Septimius, oft experienc'd in the camp
And perilous scenes of war, when side by side
We fought, and brav'd the dangers of the field,
Dependant on each other's arm. With freedom then,
I will disclose my mind. I am a Christian,
And she, who by Heaven's influential grace
With pure religious sentiments inspir'd
My soul, with virtuous love inflam'd my heart,
Ev'n she, who, shame to all humanity,
Is now condemn'd to public lust.
The shame reflects too much upon thy friend,
The mean, though duteous instrument of pow'r,
Knowing her virtues only, not thy love.
Though the honours that Flora and Venus receive
From the Romans, this Christian refuses to give,
Yet nor Venus, nor Flora, delight in the woe
That disfigures their fairest resemblance below.
Oh, save her then, or give me pow'r to save,
By free admission to th'emprison'd maid!
My guards, not less asham'd of their vile office,
Will second your intent, and pleasure me.
I will reward them with a bounteous heart,
And you, my friend, with all that Heav'n can give
To the sincerity of Pray'r.
Deeds of kindness to display,
Who the call can disobey?
But the opportune redress
Of virtuous beauty in distress,
Earth will praise and Heav'n repay.
Deeds of kindness. . . da capo
Irene, with the Christians.
The clouds begin to veil the hemisphere,
And heavily bring on the night, the last
Perhaps to us. Oh, that it were the last
To Theodora, ere she fall a prey
To unexampled lust and cruelty.
Defend her, Heav'n! Let angels spread
Their viewless tents around her bed.
Keep her from vile assaults secure,
Still ever calm, and ever pure.
Defend her. . . da capo
Theodora's Place of Confinement.
Didymus at a distance, the vizor of his helmet clos'd.
Or lull'd with grief, or rapt her soul to Heav'n
In innocence of thought, entranc'd she lies;
Her beauty shining still, like Cynthia,
Rising in clouded majesty.
Sweet rose and lily, flow'ry form,
Take me your faithful guard,
To shield you from bleak wind and storm -
A smile be my reward.
Oh, save me, Heav'n, in this my perilous hour!
Start not, much injur'd princess, I come not
As one, this place might give you cause to dread;
But your deliverer, sent by just Heav'n,
To save the world's unrivaIl'd ornament
Of virtue, faith, and every Christian grace;
And that dear ornament to Theodora,
Her angel-purity. If you vouchsafe,
But to change habit with your Didymus
I know thy courage, virtue and thy love;
And never can consent they should destroy
Their author. This becomes not Theodora,
But the blind enemies of truth. Oh no,
It must not be! Yet Didymus can give
A boon, will make me happy, nor himself
How, or what? My soul with transport
Listens to the request.
The pilgrim's home, the sick man's health,
The captive's ransom, poor man's wealth,
From thee I would receive.
These, and a thousand treasures more,
That gentle death has now in store,
Thy hand and sword can give.
Forbid it, Heav'n!
Shall I destroy the life I came to save?
Shall I in Theodora's blood embrue
My guilty hands, and give her death, who taught
Me first to live? Or say, what right have I
To take, what just reflection bids confess
Not at your own disposal? Think it too,
No less a crime, if, thus inflexible,
Your safety you refuse. Time forbids more,
Strait then resolve to gain your liberty,
Preserve your honour, and secure your life.
Ah! What is liberty or life to me,
That Didymus must purchase with his own?
Fear not for me; the pow' r that led me hither
Will guard me hence. If not, His will be done!
Yes, kind deliverer, I will trust that pow'r
To hear my pray'r for thee, so lately heard
For Theodora; who had ne'er exposed
Her friend to shun a danger that concern'd
Only her Life. Farewell, thou generous youth!
Farewell, thou mirror of the virgin state!
To thee, thou glorious son of worth,
Be life and safety giv'n.
To thee, whose virtues suit thy birth,
Be every blessing giv'n.
I hope again to meet on earth,
But sure shall meet in Heav'n.
Irene, with the Christians.
'Tis night, but night's sweet blessing is denied
To grief like ours. How can we think of sleep,
While Theodora wakes to misery,
And threat'ning death hangs hovering o'er our heads?
Be pray'r our refuge, pray'r to Him, who rais'd,
And still can raise, the dead to life and joy.
53. Chorus of Christians
He saw the lovely youth, death's early prey,
Alas, too early snatch'd away!
He heard his mother's fun'ral cries:
"Rise, youth", He said. The youth begins to rise.
Lowly the matron bow'd, and bore away the prize.
Irene, with the Christians.
Lord, to Thee each night and day,
Strong in hope, we sing and pray.
Though convulsive rocks the ground,
And thy thunders roll around,
Still to Thee, each night and day,
We sing and pray.
Lord, to Thee. . . da capo
Enter Theodora, in the habit of Didymus.
But see, the good, the virtuous Didymus!
Wakeful as Philomel, with throbbing heart,
He comes to join with us in pray'r for Theodora.
No, Heav'n has heard your pray'rs for Theodora.
Behold her safe! Oh, that as free and safe
Were Didymus, my kind deliverer!
But let this habit speak the rest.
When sunk in anguish and despair,
To Heav'n I cried, Heav'n heard my pray'r,
And bade a tender father's care
The gen'rous youth employ.
The gen'rous youth obey'd and came,
All wrapt in love's divinest flame,
To save a wretched virgin's fame,
And turn her grief to joy.
57. Solo and Chorus
Blest be the hand, and blest the pow'r,
That in this dark and dang'rous hour,
Sav'd thee from cruel strife.
Theodora and Christians
Lord, favour still the kind intent,
And bless thy gracious instrument
With liberty and life.
Undaunted in the court stands Didymus,
Virtuously proud of rescued innocence.
But vain to save the gen'rous hero's life
Are all entreaties, ev'n from Romans vain.
And, high-enrag'd, the President protests,
Should he regain the fugitive, no more
To try her with the fear of infamy,
But with the terrors of a cruel death.
Ah, Theodora, whence this sudden change,
From grief's pale looks, to looks of redd'ning joy?
O my Irene, Heav'n is kind,
And Valens too is kind, to give me pow'r
To execute in turn my gratitude,
While safe my honour. Stay me not, dear friend,
Only assist me with a proper dress,
That I may ransom the too gen'rous youth.
Whither, Princess, do you fly,
Sure to suffer, sure to die?
No, no, Irene, no,
To life and joy I go.
Vain Attempt, oh stay, oh stay!
Duty calls, I must obey.
She's gone, disdaining liberty and life,
And ev'ry honour this frail life can give.
Devotion bids aspire to nobler things,
To boundless love, and joys ineffable:
And such her expectation from kind Heav'n.
New scenes of joy come crowding on
While sorrow fleets away,
Like mists before the rising sun
That gives a glorious day.
Valens, Didymus, Septimius, and Chorus of Heathens.
Is it a Christian virtue then,
To rescue, from the hands of justice, one
Condemn'd by my authority?
Such my religion, it condemns all crimes,
None more than disobedience to just pow'r.
And had your sentence doom'd her, but to death,
I then might have deplor'd your cruelty,
And not attempted to defeat it. Yet,
I own no crime, unless it be a crime
To've hindered you from perpetrating that
Which would have made you odious to mankind,
At least the fairest half.
Aye, aye, fond man
It was the charms of beauty, not of virtue,
That tempted you to save her. Take him hence,
And lead him to repentance, or to death.
Be that my doom. You may inflict it here,
With legal justice, there 'tis cruelty.
If blood your angry laws require, behold,
The principal is come to pay the debt:
And welcome sure to Romans the exchange,
A warlike hero for an helpless maid.
Dwells there such virtuous courage in the sex?
Preserve them, O ye gods, preserve them both.
Ye Romans, join in the request, if e'er
Lucretia's memory was dear to you,
Or this your leader's valour and renown.
From virtue springs each gen'rous deed
That claims our grateful pray'r.
Let justice for the hero plead,
And pity save the fair.
From virtue springs. . . da capo
Cease, ye slaves, your fruitless pray'r!
The pow'rs below
No pity know,
For the brave, or for the fair.
'Tis kind, my friends, but kinder still
If for this daughter of Antiochus,
In mind, as noble as her birth, your pray'rs
Prevail, that Didymus alone shall die.
Had I as many lives as virtues thou,
Freely for thee I would resign them all.
Oppose not, Didymus, my just desires;
For know, that 'twas dishonour I declin'd,
Not death, most welcome now, if Didymus
Were safe, whose only crime was my escape.
66. Chorus of Heathens
How strange their ends,
And yet how glorious,
Where each contends,
To fall victorious,
Where virtue its own innocence denies,
And for the vanquish'd the glad victor dies!
On me your frowns, your utmost rage exert,
On me, your prisoner in chains.
Are due to me, and death to me alone.
Are ye then judges for yourselves?
Not so our laws are to be trifled with.
If both plead guilty, 'tis but equity
That both should suffer.
Ye ministers of justice, lead them hence,
I cannot, will not bear such insolence.
And as our gods they honour, or despise,
Fall they their supplicants, or sacrifice.
And must such beauty suffer?
Such useful valour be destroy'd?
Alas, by an unhappy constancy!
Yet deem us not unhappy, gentle friend,
Nor rash; for life we neither hate, nor scorn,
But think it a cheap purchase for the prize
Reserv'd in Heav'n for purity and faith.
70. Air and Duet
Streams of pleasure ever flowing,
Fruits ambrosial ever growing,
Are the triumphs of the blest.
When from life's dull labour free,
Clad with immortality,
They enjoy a lasting rest.
Theodora and Didymus
Thither let our hearts aspire:
Objects pure of pure desire,
Wake the song, and tune the lyre
Of the blissful holy choir.
Irene, with the Christians.
Ere this, their doom is past and they are gone
To prove that love is stronger far than death.
72. Chorus of Christians
O love divine, thou source of fame,
Of glory, and all joy!
Let equal fire our souls inflame,
And equal zeal employ,
That we the glorious spring may know,
Whose streams appear'd so bright below.
T h e E n d