ODE for MUSIC ON ST. CECILIA'S DAY. I. DESCEND, ye Nine! defcend and fing; The breathing inftruments infpire, Wake into voice each filent ftring, Let the warbling lute complain: NOTES. Ode for Mufic.) This is one of the most artful as well as fublime of our Poet's smaller compofitions. The first stanza expreí. fes the various tones and measures in music. The second defcribes their power over the feveral paffions in general. The third explains their ufe in infpiring the Heroic paffions in particular. The fourth, fifth, and fixth, their power over all nature in the fable of Orpheus's expedition to hell; which fubject of illuftration arofe naturally out of the preceding mention of the Argonautic expedition, where Orpheus gives the example of the ufe of Mufic to infpire the heroic paflions. The feventh and laft conclude in praise of Mufic, and the advantages of the facred above the prophane. VER. 7. Let the loud trumpet found, &c.) Our Author in his rules for good writing had faid, that the found should be an echo to the fenfe. The graces it adds to the harmony are obvious. But we should never have feen all the advantages arising from this rule, had this ode not been written. In which, one may venture to fay, is found all the harmony that poetic found, when it comes in aid of fenfe, is capable of producing. 'Till the roofs all around The fhrill echoes rebound; While in more lengthen'd notes and flow, Hark! the numbers foft and clear Now louder, and yet louder rife And fill with fpreading founds the fkies; And melt away. In a dying, dying fall. II. By Mufic, minds an equal temper know, Or, when the foul is press'd with cares, Warriors fhe fires with animated founds; Morpheus rouzes from his bed, Sloth unfolds her arms and wakes, Lift'ning Envy drops her fnakes; Inteftine war no more our Paffions wage, III. But when our Country's caufe provokes to Arms. How martial mufic ev'ry bofom warns! 25 30 35 So when the firft bold veffel dar'd the feas But when thro' all th' infernal bounds, Love, ftrong as Death, the Poet led What founds were heard, What scenes appear'd, O'er all the dreary coafts! 45 50 55 Dreadful gleans, Difmal fcreams, Fires that glow, Shrieks of woe, Sullen moans, Hollow groans And cries of tortur'd ghosts! But hark! he ftrikes the golden lyre; See, fhady forms advance! Thy ftone, O Sisyphus, stands still, And the pale fpetres dance! 60 65 The Furies fink upon their iron beds, ndrysler And snakes uncurl'd hang lift'ning ronnd their heads, V. By the ftreams that ever flow, O'er th' Elyfian flow'rs; By thofe happy fouls who dwell Reftore, restore Eurydice to life: Oh take the husband, or return the wife! He fung, and hell confented To hear the Poet's prayer: Stern Proferpine relented, And gave him back the fair. A conqueft how hard and how glorious? With Styx nine times round her Yet mufic and love were victorious. VI. But foon, too foon, the lover turns his eyes: 70 80 85 90 95 |