Thomas Weelkes never rose beyond the position of provincial cathedral organist-choirmaster; in fact, he had trouble keeping even that post in later life, when the cathedral records assert that he became “noted and found for a common drunckard and notorious swearer and blasphemer.” Although he is not a major figure — not in a league with the other composers treated in this unit — he is one of the best composers of madrigals in English.

Weelkes’s contribution to The Triumphs of Oriana is a fine example of a madrigal of the lighter kind. (Weelkes also wrote serious and melancholy madrigals.) After listening to the music of Josquin and Palestrina, our first impression of “Vesta” is one of sheer exuberant brightness. Simple rhythms, clear harmonies, crisp melodic motives — all look forward to music of the Baroque era and beyond. This music has a modern feel about it.

The next thing likely to impress us is the elegance and liveliness with which the words are declaimed. Weelkes nearly always has his words sung in rhythms that would seem quite natural if the words were spoken, as shown in the margin (where — stands for a long syllable, ˘ for a short one). The declamation is never less than accurate, and it is sometimes expressive: The rhythms make the words seem imposing in the second phrase, dainty in the third.

As for the word painting, that can be shown in a tabular form:

(The “maiden Queen” is Elizabeth, and “Diana’s darlings” are the Vestal Virgins, priestesses of Vesta, the Roman goddess of hearth and home. The archaic word amain means “at full speed.”)

This brilliant six-part madrigal uses two sopranos, alto, two tenors, and bass. Weelkes makes particularly good use of this group in his extended imitative setting of the poem’s last line. Here we can easily imagine six loyal voices (or many more) endlessly cheering their queen in a spontaneous, irregular way, one after another. Shakespeare and his contemporaries, Weelkes among them, were very fond of puns. Weelkes has the word long sung by the bass voice on a note four times the duration of a whole note — a note whose Latin name was longa. So this madrigal has its esoteric, in-joke side for musicians as well as its public, political side for Elizabeth’s subjects.