ODE for MUSIC O N ST. CECILIA's DAY. I. DEfcend, ye Nine! defcend and fing; The breathing inftruments infpire, Wake into voice each filent ftring, In a fadly-pleasing strain Let the warbling lute complain: "Till the roofs all around The fhrill echos rebound: REMARKS. 5 Ode for Mufic.] This is one of the most artful as well as fublime of our Poet's fmaller compofitions. The first stanza expreffes the various tones and meafures in mufic. The fecond 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 Argo While in more lengthen'd notes and flow, The deep, majestic, folemn organs blow. Gently steal upon the ear; Now louder, and yet louder rife And fill with spreading founds the skies; 15 Exulting in triumph now fwell the bold notes, In broken air, trembling, the wild mufic floats; "Till, by degrees, remote and finall, The ftrains decay, And melt away, In a dying, dying fall. II. By Music, minds an equal temper know, REMARKS. 20 25 nautic expedition, where Orpheus gives the example of the use of Mufic to infpire the heroic paffions. The feventh and laft conclude in praife of Music, and the advantages of the facred above the prophane. VER. 7. Let the loud trumpet found, etc.] Our Author in his rules for good writing had faid, that the found fhould be an echo to the fenfe. The graces it adds to the harmony are obvious. But we fhould never have feen all the advantages arifing 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. Or, when the foul is prefs'd with cares, Exalts her in enlivening airs. Warriors fhe fires with animated founds; Pours balm into the bleeding lover's wounds: Melancholy lifts her head, 30 But when our Country's caufe provokes to Arms, So when the first bold veffel dar'd the feas, 40 High on the ftern the Thracian rais'd his strain, 45 IV. But when thro' all th' infernal bounds, Which flaming Phlegeton furrounds, Love, ftrong as Death, the Poet led To the pale nations of the dead, What founds were heard, What scenes appear'd, O'er all the dreary coafts! Dreadful gleams, Difmal fcreams, Fires that glow, 50 55 60 And cries of tortur'd ghofts! But hark! he strikes the golden lyre; See, fhady forms advance! Thy stone, O Sifyphus, ftands ftill, And the pale spectres dance! The Furies fink upon their iron beds, 65 And fnakes uncurl'd hang lift'ning round their heads. |