In the current lineup of the Metropolitan Opera is Wagner’s “Tristan und Isolde.” It boasts an Irish princess. But the Met did not stage this opera on St. Patrick’s Day. It staged Verdi’s “Ernani,” in a 1983 production by the late Pier Luigi Samaritani. The audience got a strong, successful evening of Verdi.

What music do we know from “Ernani”? Chiefly the soprano aria “Ernani, involami,” once a favorite of Maria Callas, among others. And the story?

“Ernani” is set in 16th-century Spain, and three men fancy the soprano, Elvira. Those men are Silva, her uncle (yes). And Carlo, the king of Spain, who will become Holy Roman Emperor. And Ernani, a bandit, who, beneath his banditry, is an avenging noble. Elvira loves Ernani. And it all ends tragically.

In “Ernani,” Verdi writes major and rewarding roles for soprano, tenor, baritone, and bass. (The mezzo role is slight.) He is pretty much an equal-opportunity employer. And, on Monday night, the Met had an excellent cast: a Metworthy cast.

Taking the title role was Marcello Giordani, the Italian tenor. In his best moments, he was fresh, powerful, and very Italian. In his poor moments, he was pinched, imprecise, effortful, faltering — and still very Italian. On Monday night, he had more good moments than bad ones. And he died a very moving — and very musical — death.

The soprano was Sondra Radvanovsky, our Verdian from Illinois. She was not in her best voice — in fact, an announcement was made for her, before the curtain rose. And, in the first act, she was frayed and uncertain. But a nice and surprising thing happened: She got better as the evening wore on. In fact, she sounded very much like herself. And she met her duties honorably.

In the role of Carlo was the baritone from Spokane, Thomas Hampson. He was at times not very Italianate, and he was at times a bit muted. But these are minor complaints, in the face of so intelligent and convincing a performance. Mr. Hampson sang with great sensitivity to the text and the drama. He judged Verdi’s rhythm superbly (as so many singers do not). He demonstrated some lovely soft singing — first-class. And he was a Carlo from head to toe. He was both kingly — or imperial — and plainly human.

And, needless to say, he looked like a million bucks. This is no small advantage in opera, as in life. And Mr. Hampson inhabits a stage as few others do.

Inhabiting that stage with him was Ferruccio Furlanetto, the Italian bass. He turned in his usual model performance. As Silva, he was all authority. He practically defined “basso cantabile.” And he provided a strong definition of “singing actor” (as did Mr. Hampson). Mr. Furlanetto was elegant in outrage, dignified in misfortune. And he was a hateful SOB in dealing it out to Ernani. Also, does anyone sing a more beautiful Italian than Mr. Furlanetto?

He might be said to be a last link to a long tradition. But there have been many “last links,” and there will be others — same as, in the piano world, we will always have “last Romantics.”

Doing the brief mezzo bit was Wendy White, secure and apt.

And our conductor for the evening was Roberto Abbado, nephew of the venerable conductor Claudio. Mr. Abbado had a bad beginning: The overture was ungainly. And then the pit and the stage were out of coordination. “Ernani, involami” was flaccid, needing a firmer pulse (no matter what condition Ms. Radvanovsky was in). Etc.

But Mr. Abbado and the proceedings at large settled down. In time, I forgot about the conductor — and I mean that as a compliment. He allowed the opera to take its course, in a steady, logical way. Introducing Act 3, the low woodwinds were outstanding. And the Met chorus was in good shape. The men at the beginning of the opera sang crisply and emphatically without barking. That is an achievement.

And the Samaritani production? It is what your typical critic would put down as “monumental,” “traditional,” and “grandiose.” In other words, it is Verdian, Met-like, and right.