Choir for 4 voices
Soprano solo
Alto solo
Tenor solo
Bass solo
Trumpet I + II + III
Bassdrum
Horn I + II
Travers flute
Oboe I + II (Oboe d`amore)
Violin I + II
Viola
Viola d`amore
Viola da gamba
Basso continuo

Demolish, disrupt it, destroy the lair,
Which doth our fury's rage confine!
Now burst through the air,
That even the sun ye in darkness may cover,
Divide now the oceans and rage the world over,
That even heaven may repine!




Yes, yes!
The hour is now near at hand
When I for you my loyal subjects
The exit from your solitude,
For soon the summer days will end
To freedom shall lay open.
I give you pow'r
From evening until morning,
From midday until mid of night
To vent your rage and anger,
That clover, flowers, leaves
Midst frigid frost and snow
May feel your blasts with terror.
I give you pow'r
The cedars to send crashing
And mountain peaks to spit asunder.
I give you pow'r
The boist'rous waters of the ocean
With your great force so high to raise,
That constellations will imagine
Their fire must soon through you, expiring, dim and die.

How I will burst with laughter
When all is thoroughly confused!
When even cliffs stand not secure
And when the housetops shatter,
Then I will burst with laughter!

O rev'rend Aeolus,
Within whose lap I'm wont to nestle
And in thy peace take pleasure,
May this thy stern resolve
In me not all too soon strike terror;
Delay now, let in thee,
As boon to me,
Some pity yet be wakened!

Cooling shadows, my true pleasure,
See how painful my departure,
Come, lament now my disgrace!
Bend yourselves, ye orphaned branches,
Ah, I'll hush now,
Follow me with saddened face!

Thou shalt soon bring me close to weeping.
What? See I not Pomona here?
And, if I'm right, there's Pallas, too, with her.
Say, worthies, say what ye would have of me?
For on your mind is surely something weighty.

If these cheeks of rosy color,
In which all my fruit finds rapture,
Can thine angry heart not capture,
Ah, then tell me, canst thou see
How the leaves upon the branches
Are to earth in sadness bending,
That their sorrow be averted
Which to them is bound to be.

Alto (Pomona): Then wouldst thou, angry Aeolus,
Just like a cliff of stone
To my petition stand?
Soprano (Pallas): Well then, I will and must
With mine own sighing venture;
Perhaps to me
That which, Pomona, he
In silence hath denied thee,
Will he allow.
Soprano (Pallas), Alto (Pomona): Fine! If he doth to me/thee more kindly then respond.

O enchanting Zephyrus,
This thy musky-flavored kiss
And thy cooling spying
Shall upon my heights be playing.
Great and good King Aeolus,
Say then, please, to Zephyrus
That his musky-flavored kiss
And his cooling spying
Shall upon my heights be playing.

Soprano (Pallas): Mine Aeolus,
Ah, hinder not these joyous moments
In which my Muses' Helicon
A feast, a festival of gladness
Upon his lofty peaks presents.
Bass (Aeolus): Then tell me this:
Why doth to thee
Especially this day so precious,
So dear and sacred seem?
O bother and distress!
Shall I then here a woman's purpose
Within mine own domain accomplish?
Soprano (Pallas): My Müller, mine August,
Pierians' delight and joy
Bass (Aeolus): Thy Müller, thine August!
Soprano (Pallas): And my belove'd son,
Bass (Aeolus): Thy Müller, thine August!
Soprano (Pallas): Enjoyeth now contented moments,
For him eternity
His sentient name hath prophesied.
Bass (Aeolus): Thy Müller! Thine August!
Pierians' delight and joy
And thy belove'd son
Enjoyeth now contented moments,
For him eternity
His sentient name hath prophesied:
Well then! I'll let myself be mastered,
Your desire shall be accomplished.

Retire now, retire now, ye wing-bearing tempests,
Now calm yourselves down;
And if ye blow soon,
Then blow henceforth with nought but mildness!



Soprano (Pallas): What joy!
Alto (Pomona): What gladness!
Tenor (Zephyrus): What contentment!
Soprano (Pallas); Alto (Pomona), Tenor (Zephyrus): Ariseth in the breast,
That now to our request
His wishes grant fulfillment.
Tenor (Zephyrus): I can now midst the boughs' green raiment
Display henceforth my deep contentment.
Alto (Pomona): And I'll survey my pleasure
In my maturing treasure.
Soprano (Pallas): And I'll in my contented peace
For mine August bring the feast.
Alto (Pomona), Tenor (Zephyrus): We are for thy festivities
With equal joy at ease.

Alto (Pomona): Boughs and branches
For thy feast now pay advances
Of their bounteous excess.
Tenor (Zephyrus): And my mirth must I profess,
This thine August to pay honor,
And this day's great joy to garner.
Alto (Pomona), Tenor (Zephyrus): I bring now my {harvest/whispers } with gladness to thee,
Alto (Pomona), Tenor (Zephyrus): That all for the frolic more perfect might be.

Yes, yes! I bid you come myself to this glad scene:
Arise now to my beetling regions,
Where joy doth midst the Muses reign,
Who wait, inflamed with eager passions.
Rise! let us now, as we rush yonder,
The air with happy wishes sunder!

Vivat August, August vivat,
Blest be thou, O learne'd / O honored / sir!
Thy contentment, let it flower,
That thy teaching, thine endeavor
May those very plants uncover
Which shall a land one day to glory stir.