ffi
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 MUSIC 
 LIBRARY 
 
 TREATISE ON MUSIC, 
 
 WITH APPENDICES. 
 
 BY 
 
 JOHN JARDINE DUNLOP. 
 
 [COPYRIGHT]. 
 
 DUMFRIES: 
 
 PRINTKD AND PUBLISHED BY R. GRIKVK & SONS. 
 1914.
 
 Music 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 The publication of this treatise is accompanied 
 by the hope that the superior claims of " that 
 science of harmonious sounds which the ancients 
 recognised as most divine, and deified in the person 
 of their most beautiful creation,"* have been pre- 
 sented in a manner calculated to ensure their due 
 recognition and advancement; and with the desire 
 of contributing, in some little degree, to the intel- 
 lectual pleasure, the mental culture, and the highest 
 good of those who honour it with a perusal. 
 
 J. J. D. 
 
 Portwilliam, Wigtownshire, Scotland, 
 April 1st, 1914. 
 
 * Benjamin Disraeli.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGES 
 
 TREATISE ON Music 5 60 
 
 APPENDIX No. I 
 APOTHEOSIS OF Music 61 70 
 
 APPENDIX No. II. 
 SELECTIONS FROM HOLY SCRIPTURE ...71 83 
 
 APPENDIX No. III. 
 SELECTIONS FROM THE POETS AND LITERATI ... 84 147
 
 TREATISE ON MUSIC. 
 
 ' Yea, music is the Prophet's art; 
 Among the gifts that God hath sent, 
 One of the most magnificent ! 
 It calms the agitated heart; 
 Temptations, evil thoughts, and all 
 The passions that disturb the soul, 
 Are quelled by its divine control, 
 As the Evil Spirit fled from Saul, 
 And his distemper was allayed, 
 When David took his harp and played." 
 
 Longfellow. 
 
 (From Martin Luther The Golden Legend.) 
 
 " and while we hear 
 The tides of music's golden sea 
 Setting toward Eternity, 
 Uplifted high in heart and hope are we." 
 
 Tennyson. 
 
 (From Ode on The Death of The Duke of 
 Wellington.) 
 
 WHEN a bell is rung, or a drum beat, the vibrations 
 of the instrument caused by the strokes of the 
 clapper or drumstick pulsate against the air, which 
 becomes compressed or condensed within a certain
 
 area. The instantaneous expansion of the com- 
 pressed atmosphere repeats the impulse or pressure 
 on the air in contact with it, each stroke of the 
 clapper or drumstick sending out a series of rings 
 or shells of compressed air, varying in thickness 
 from two inches to thirty feet; their volume and 
 force lessening and abating as they expand, till they 
 die away in the outlying atmosphere. These 
 sound-waves of the air are similarly set in motion 
 when the notes of a piano are manipulated, an 
 organ blown, a flute sounded, or the strings of a 
 violin twanged with the bow. An illustration of 
 this unseen mechanical effect is afforded when a 
 pebble is dropped into a placid pond, a series of 
 annular wavelets dispersing themselves over its 
 surface. The sound waves of the agitated air find 
 a passage through the tympanum, and are con- 
 veyed by means of the vibrations of its membrane, 
 and the oscillations of the ossicles, into the internal 
 labyrinth ; thence transmitted by the auditory nerve 
 to the accoustic cells in the temporal portion of the 
 grey substance of the brain, the mind receiving an 
 impression, or assimilating the idea, called a sound. 
 While the internal ear constitutes the essential 
 organ of hearing, it is interesting to note that some 
 scientists aver that atmospheric vibrations are also 
 conducted through the medium of the bones of the 
 skull to the centre of hearing. A succession of 
 corresponding vibrations occurring so quickly that 
 the sounds run into one another and reach the ear 
 in a homogeneous body, constitutes a tone or musi- 
 cal sound. Treble and bass sounds are produced 
 respectively by quick and slow atmospheric vibra-
 
 tions, fifteen thousand of these in a second con- 
 stituting the highest or shrillest treble, and thirty- 
 two in a second, the lowest audible bass tone. 
 Treble, counter, tenor, and bass, form the four 
 principal parts in the music scale. The constitu- 
 ent elements of music are melody and harmony. 
 The former is the agreeable succession of the seven 
 notes of the music scale either through the medium 
 of the human voice or the agency of specially con- 
 structed instruments, sounds differing in pitch 
 according to certain determinate gradations, the 
 same in all civilised countries of the world. The 
 latter is the result of the simultaneous employment 
 of two or more of these fundamental notes in a 
 manner pleasing to the ear. Music, then, may be 
 defined as the science of harmonious sounds. It 
 is aesthetically termed the finest of the fine arts, the 
 Enchanted Girdle of Armida, excelling in beauty 
 and value the trophies of the other arts. The best 
 definition of music is that which pronounces it 
 the language of the soul. Of all the faculties with 
 which the bountiful Creator has endowed man, that 
 of music is, in our opinion, the highest, the best, 
 because, when duly cultivated, it is a fruitful source 
 of exalted pleasures ; of joys that leave no sting 
 behind. The almost universal bestowal of this gift 
 in a greater or lesser degree, and the enjoyment of 
 its fruits by the very small minority in whom the 
 organs of tune and time have not attained a high 
 degree of development, afford a most convincing 
 token of the beneficence of the Deity, and His 
 desire for the true happiness of His creatures. The 
 late Sir Charles Halle, the eminent pianist and con-
 
 ductor, was accustomed to relate with pardonable 
 pride, how, on one occasion when changing trains 
 at Derby, the porter, who was transferring his 
 luggage, addressed him thus : ' Will you please 
 tell me, Sir Charles, when the ' Elijah ' will be per- 
 formed at Manchester," and, on acquainting him 
 with the day and hour, the porter, in a paroxysm 
 of exultation, exclaimed ' I've got permission to 
 go, and I've promised to take my missus with me !" 
 He often exhibited also, with evident satisfaction, 
 presents received from working men as tokens of 
 the delight imparted to them from concerts con- 
 ducted by his master hand. Some persons from 
 defective development of the faculties of ideality, 
 colouring, constructiveness, form, size, evince an 
 insensibility to the attractions of poetry, painting, 
 sculpture, architecture, but it is questionable if a 
 single rational individual, even an unfortunate 
 victim of any form of mental derangement, could 
 me found, in whom the organs of tune and time are 
 so deficient, or in such a condition of dormancy, as 
 to be wholly unaffected by '" concord of sweet 
 sounds." It is the silver link that connects the 
 soul with the infinite To Be, its longings here being 
 alleviated by the soothing and reconciling character 
 of its strains, chastened by its charms, and intensi- 
 fied and transported by the majesty of its numbers. 
 Thomas Carlyle wrote: 'The meaning of song 
 goes deep. Who is there that in logical words can 
 express the effect music has on us? A kind of 
 inarticulate unfathomable speech which leads us to 
 the edge of the Infinite, and lets us for moments 
 
 * Shakespeare.
 
 gaze into that!" If musical talent and exquisite 
 imagination co-exist in the same individual, en- 
 chanted by the melodies, and entranced with the 
 visions, the spirit glides in ethereal reverie to realms 
 of infinite delight. The finer the natural sensibili- 
 ties, the more entrancing the art, and, in one en- 
 dowed with musical talent, possessing a cultured 
 mind, and powerfully influenced by the spirit of 
 true religion, we may discern the characteristics of 
 genius, or note the requisites of a high spiritual 
 teacher. The poet may not be a musician in the 
 strict sense of the word, but the force of his genius, 
 and the perspicacity of his vision render his 
 thoughts musical; in unison with the heart of 
 Nature and the Supreme Ideal ; efflorescing into 
 supernal beauty, and clothing all the mere common- 
 places of life with golden exhalations of the dawn. 
 
 ' If music and sweet poetry agree, 
 As they must needs, the sister and the brother, 
 Then must the love be great 'twixt thee and me, 
 Because thou lovest the one, and I, the other. 
 
 One god is god of both, as poets feign."* 
 
 The " Irish Melodies " of Thomas Moore are ex- 
 quisitely musical. He was an accomplished 
 musician, as well as the national bard of his country. 
 In his lyrics set to music, in those of Robert Burns, 
 and in some of those of Alfred, Lord Tennyson, 
 the rhythm of which is melody itself, these three 
 poets have been eminently successful in translating 
 into language the emotions and passions which 
 
 * Shakespeare.
 
 10 
 
 music, to Moore, appeared to express ; in illustrating 
 and confirming John Dryden's definition of music 
 as " inarticulate poetry," and enunciating and un- 
 folding the feeling of the Irish poet, that, " in 
 adapting words to an expressive air, he was bestow- 
 ing upon it the gift of articulation, and thus en- 
 abling it to speak to others all that was conveyed 
 in its wordless eloquence to himself." While the 
 number of words, their flow, and the concord of 
 sound of those terminating certain lines of the 
 verses, constitute the music of the poet, and a fitting 
 vehicle for the transmission of his fancies and pure 
 thoughts, do we not hear in the eloquence of the 
 orator a measure, euphony, and accentuation, con- 
 stituting a kind of melody, and a stately harmony 
 in the style of some prose compositions; such as, 
 some passages in the prose writings of John Milton, 
 in Edward Gibbon's history of " The Decline and 
 Fall of the Roman Empire," and in the " Essays " 
 of Thomas Babington Macaulay, on the tide of 
 which the reader is borne along, and, when the end 
 is reached, still lingering in his ears? How different 
 the nature and possibilities of persons of the pre- 
 ceding type when compared with the stolid, phleg- 
 matic, soulless, unmusical prodigy described by 
 Shakespeare in " The Merchant of Venice." 
 
 ' The man that hath no music in himself, 
 Nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds, 
 Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils ; 
 The motions of his spirit are dull as night, 
 And his affections dark as Erebus : 
 Let no such man be trusted : "
 
 11 
 
 or with the aboriginal pre-Celtic race in Britain, 
 " descendants of the Firbolg," according to 
 MacFirbis, the Irish chronicler, who, in an enumera- 
 tion of their villainous characteristics, includes, 
 aversion to music and entertainment. 
 
 Respecting the antiquity of music, it is sufficient 
 for our present purpose to state that it was coeval 
 with man. Primitive tribes can express their feel- 
 ings in the simple, uncouth strains which Nature 
 teaches; are readily affected thereby, and seem to 
 derive more real pleasure from them than from 
 the gratification of the propensities; but it is only 
 when the intellectual faculties have been sharpened, 
 the sensibilities, emotions, sentiments, refined, 
 hallowed, spiritualised, and the moral sense en- 
 nobled and purified by the study of music as a 
 science, the productions of eminent composers, and 
 the practice of it as an art, that its incomparable 
 influence (religion alone excepted) as an agent in 
 the civilisation, the culture, and the moral re- 
 generation of mankind is fully appreciated. 
 Richard Wagner's music-dramas were constructed 
 with the design of establishing his dogma that the 
 glory of music can only be fully unveiled when 
 associated with poetry, scenic display, and other 
 histrionic arts and accessories ; and this tenet seems 
 to be supported by the capability of highly imagina- 
 tive artists, after intent study and analysis of certain 
 musical compositions, with their subsequent effec- 
 tive instrumental presentation, transferring to 
 canvas more or less perfect pictorial representa- 
 tions of the impressions, ideas, emotions, that
 
 12 
 
 dominated the composers' minds. This faculty the 
 late Mademoiselle Chassevant believed lay dormant 
 to a greater or lesser degree in all musical aspirants, 
 and she invented her ' Musical Compositor," 
 by means of which juveniles are taught to 
 write music and to metamorphose musical 
 sounds into pictures; a system that has made 
 considerable progress on the Continent during 
 the last quarter of a century, and which, 
 with practical modifications, finds in Great Britain 
 an enthusiastic exponent, advocate, and instructress, 
 in the person of Miss Marian P. Gibb, 
 of Edinburgh. We believe, however, that, dis- 
 sociated from all sensuous combinations, music 
 possesses a native puissance and charm that cannot 
 fail to influence the social, mental, moral, and 
 spiritual relations of mankind. We are informed 
 in the twenty-first verse of the fourth chapter of 
 the book of Genesis, that Jubal, a son of Lamech, 
 was the father of all such as handle the harp and 
 organ. From his day, till the time when the schools 
 of the prophets were established, the music of the 
 Hebrews was of a primitive kind. The students in 
 these seminaries practised it as part of their educa- 
 tional course, and to these institutions we are in- 
 debted for the art approaching to anything like a 
 fixed science. That Hebrew genius has exercised a 
 predominant sway in the annals of music is abund- 
 antly demonstrated by the late Lord Beaconsfield, 
 formerly the Right Hon. Benjamin D'Israeli, a dis- 
 tinguished statesman and novelist, himself of 
 Hebrew extraction, who, during the early portion 
 of his political career, wrote in his novel, 
 " Coningsby ' - " The passionate and creative
 
 13 
 
 genius that is the nearest link to divinity and which 
 no human tyranny can destroy, though it can divert 
 it, that should have stirred the hearts of nations by 
 its inspired sympathy, or governed senates by its 
 burning eloquence, has found a medium for its 
 expression, to which, in spite of your prejudices and 
 your evil passions, you have been obliged to bow. 
 The ear, the voice, the fancy teeming with combina- 
 tions, the imagination fervent with picture and 
 emotion, that came from Caucasus, and which we 
 have preserved unpolluted, have endowed MS with 
 almost the exclusive privilege of music ; that science 
 of harmonious sounds which the ancients recognised 
 as most divine and deified in the person of their 
 most beautiful creation. I speak not of the past, 
 though, were I to enter into the history of the lords 
 of melody, you would find it the annals of 
 Hebrew genius. But at this moment even, musical 
 Europe is ours. There is not a company of singers, 
 not an orchestra in a single capital that are not 
 crowded with our children under the feigned names 
 which they adopt to conciliate the dark aversion 
 which your posterity will some day disclaim with 
 shame and disgust. Almost every great composer, 
 skilled musician, almost every voice that ravishes 
 you with its transporting strains, springs from our 
 tribes. The catalogue is too vast to enumerate, 
 too illustrious to dwell for a moment on secondary 
 names, however eminent. Enough for us that the 
 three great creative minds, to whose exquisite 
 inventions all nations at this moment yield, 
 Rossini, Meyerbeer, Mendelssohn, are of Hebrew 
 race, and little do your men of fashion, your
 
 14 
 
 ' Muscadins ' of Paris, and your dandies of 
 London, as they thrill into rapture at the notes of 
 a Pasta or a Grisi, little do they suspect that they 
 are offering homage to the Sweet Singers of Israel." 
 
 Music may be divided into two kinds, natural 
 and artificial. The music of Nature is more varied 
 than that born of Art; and is one great harmony 
 ascending to the ear of the Creator ! This latter 
 may be regarded by some critics as a fanciful and 
 absurd idea. It is the opinion, however, of the 
 most advanced thinkers, and scientific investigation 
 points to the conclusion. The fault lies in the 
 comatosed faculty of man, who cannot hear the 
 sublime tribute of praise. What a choir of voices 
 from the sea-shells, one music-shell, a Gasteropod 
 of the Caribbean Sea actually marked with charac- 
 ters like printed music; cylindrical, ovoid, spiral, 
 trumpet-shaped, in soprano, contralto, tenor, and 
 bass, chanting the praises of Him who holdeth the 
 ocean in the hollow of His hand ! What a high, 
 clear, sweet treble in the notes of the sky-lark, 
 hailed by the poet Shelley as 
 
 " blithe spirit, 
 Bird thou never wert, 
 That from heaven or near it, 
 Pourest thy full heart, 
 In profuse strains of unpremeditated art !" 
 
 What mellow fulness in the notes of the black- 
 bird, and ringing rapture in the voice of the mavis, 
 her spotted breast palpitating with delight as she 
 trills her joyful song in the grove ! What an
 
 15 
 
 orchestra in the feathered choristers warbling de- 
 lightful madrigals on a summer morning and even- 
 ing, matins and vespers sent up to the ear of God, 
 and reminding us of the pious exclamation of good 
 old Izaak Walton, author of " The Compleat 
 Angler," transported to the bowers of Paradise by 
 the silvery airs, the ethereal strains, " the natural 
 rising and falling, the doubling and redoubling " of 
 the nightingale's voice at summer midnight ! 
 " Lord ! what music hast Thou provided for the 
 saints in heaven when Thou affordest bad men such 
 music on earth !" What majestic bass in the 
 diapason of the hurricane sweeping through the 
 dark, hoary forest ; in the sonorous monotone of 
 Boreas, blowing into the caverns of the rock-bound 
 coast; in the breaking-up of the glacier and the 
 rumble of the avalanche; in the tolling thunder 
 rolling along the ebon firmament; in the blowing 
 of leviathan making " a path to shine after him,"* 
 the deep a seething cauldron ; in the voice of the 
 lion coming up vast and hollow upon the wind of 
 the wilderness and affrighting the far-off caravan on 
 its lonely way ! What an awful symphony as of the 
 day of doom, in the commingled thunder, roar, 
 ocean-like heaving and moaning, dread, sub- 
 terranean rumbling and bellowing of the raging 
 volcano ! What sublime symphonies in the swell- 
 ing harmonies of ocean billows tossing their snowy 
 crests skyward ; in the rush and tumult of the cata- 
 ract dashing its flashing surges into the abyss ; in the 
 rage of the elements met for the dread saturnalia of 
 war, when Winter sways his iron sceptre o'er the 
 
 * Job, chap 41, v. 32.
 
 16 
 
 world ! The ancients entertained a poetic idea 
 that the heavenly bodies in their revolutions 
 through space emitted a soft celestial harmony 
 heard only by angelic beings, the unspiritual ear 
 of man insensitive to the music of the spheres ; and 
 who can say but that the etheric vibrations of wire- 
 less telegraphy may be accompanied by a quint- 
 essence of melody audible also to these exalted 
 intelligences? Shakespeare embodies this fancy in 
 his description in the " Merchant of Venice " of a 
 moonlight scene with serenade. 
 
 " Lorenzo How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon 
 
 this bank ! 
 
 Here will we sit and let the sounds of music 
 Creep in our ears ; soft stillness and the night 
 Become, the touches of sweet harmony : 
 Sit, Jessica, look how the floor of heaven 
 Is thick inlaid with patines of bright gold ! 
 There's not the smallest orb which thou behold'st 
 But in his motion like an angel sings 
 Still quiring to the young-eyed cherubim. 
 Such harmony is in immortal souls, 
 But whilst this muddy vesture of decay 
 Doth grossly close it in, we cannot hear it." 
 
 Varied and universal are the melodies of creation. 
 Music in the echoes from hills, and dales, and 
 woods ; from icebergs, caverns, corridors, cathedral 
 aisles, and large buildings lying in ruins; famous 
 among these being the Lake of Killarney echo, 
 which responds in harmonious secondo to tune 
 from bugle or cornet; in the tinkle of a harebell; 
 in the genial south wind stirring in the golden
 
 17 
 
 trumpet of the daffodil and heralding the resurrec- 
 tion of the flowers; in the odorous breath of the 
 zephyr 'mong the leaves in summer; in the rustle 
 of the sere, brown, and yellow leaves in autumn ; 
 " in the spiny leaves of the pine and fir in a 
 Norwegian forest vibrating like the strings of a 
 musical instrument in the breath of the night 
 wind;"* in the beat and trumpeting of the boughs 
 of beech and oak, like batons, keeping time in the 
 loud swelling anthem of the December storm ; in 
 the purling of the stream and the patter of the rain ; 
 in the bursting of the gilded bubbles on the lake, 
 and the drip, drip, drip of crystal globules from 
 moss-upholstered vault into the limpid well ; in the 
 wavelets of a summer sea rippling on the glowing 
 strand ; in the rush of the river, the whirl and suck 
 of the maelstrom, and the trumpet-blow of the 
 waterspout ; in the rustle of the Aurora Borealis, 
 prostrating with terror the Lapland dogs and rein- 
 deer as they cower beneath the hissing splendours ! 
 Music in the hum and buzz of multitudinous insect 
 life ; in the chirrup of the grasshopper and cricket, 
 and the horn of the gnat ; in the carol of the wren, 
 and the twitter of the swallow ; in the vibration of 
 the snipe's wings, and the swoop of the eagle from 
 his eyrie ; in the bleat of the ewe on the lonely lea, 
 or the wild-goat on the craggy mountain top ; in 
 the blood-curdling wail as of the frenzy of despair, 
 the agony of a spirit in the lost world, in the mid- 
 night howl of the mastiff, with saliva slide-dripping 
 from his chops, baying to the moon, borne upon 
 the moaning wind; in the reverberations of the 
 
 * Harriet Martineau.
 
 18 
 
 forest and jungle re-echoing the voices of their wild 
 denizens; in the whistle of the small black snake 
 of New Guinea, the bite of which is death ; in the 
 note of the fiddling spider of Australia, its jaw 
 the string, and its leg the bow. It is generally 
 supposed that artificial music had its origin in 
 the attempts of man to imitate the music of 
 nature; hence the oldest musical instrument is 
 said to be the shepherd's or Pan's pipe, pro- 
 bably devised for the purpose of simulating 
 the sound of the wind whistling among the 
 long dry reeds growing on the margin of the 
 mere. A pictorial representation of ' The 
 Dawn of Music " by the artist, Mr William Hole, 
 is Orpheus or Jubal in a woodland grove, with 
 a lyre ; which reminds us of the story of Pythagoras 
 of old, who, it is told, constructed the lyre of 
 seven chords, " the secret of the sounding 
 wire " * being revealed to him by seven separate 
 tones vibrating from the anvils in the blacksmith's 
 workshop, when struck by the different hammers 
 of the bronzed and brawny artificer. Artificial 
 music may be extracted from a great variety of 
 instruments, descriptions of which may be obtained 
 from treatises devoted to this end. Suffice it to 
 say, that, in the application of modern scientific 
 invention to the artificial production of musical 
 sounds, a marvellous chapter is being written for 
 the volume of " the fairy tales of science "* that 
 unfolded to the prophetic eye of Tennyson seventy 
 years ago. In the hands of an expert what instru- 
 ment can surpass the violin for crisp, lively, in- 
 spiriting strains, waltz, strathspey, and reel music; 
 
 * Longfellow. * Tennyson.
 
 19 
 
 and for evoking the sentiment, the intense pathos, 
 the depth of feeling and sorrow in such airs as 
 " Home, Sweet Home," " The Auld Hoose," 
 '" Auld Lang Syne," " The Land o' the Leal," 
 " Ye Banks and Braes o' Bonnie Doon," " My 
 Nannie's awa'," " The Lament of Flora Macdonald," 
 "Auld Robin Gray," " Wae's me for Prince 
 Charlie," till the throat feels dry and choky, 
 the tears stand in the eyes, and trickle down 
 the cheeks? It was as a soloist on this instrument 
 that the late Mr. J. T. Carrodus, a distinguished 
 conductor of musical festivals throughout our 
 country, displayed perfection of technique, and 
 evinced a classical purity of style not inferior to 
 that of Molique himself; and from the renowned 
 ' Boissier " Stradivarius, or from one which 
 Paganini, the prince of violinists, used, evoking 
 pure, dulcet, ethereal strains to mortal ears 
 worthy of Raphael's "Angel with the Violin;" 
 that Senor Sarasate extracts tones the quint- 
 essence of fineness and sweetness, when for 
 solos he selects his own arrangement of Raff's 
 11 La Fee D'Amour," and two of his own composi- 
 tions; a " Romance," and " Viva Sevilla." 
 
 For sympathetic weeping tone what instrument 
 can equal the violoncello ; for cheerful spirit-stirring 
 sound the fife; for mellifluous vibration, liquid 
 dropping, clarity, and amplitude of sound, the 
 Erard piano, with "resonator;" while an artiste 
 such as Madame Berthe Marx-Goldschmidt, or 
 Madame Roger Miclos, or a virtuoso such as 
 M. Paderewski, Herr Sauer, Herr Rosenthal, 
 Eugene d'Albert, M. Slivinski, with irreproachable
 
 20 
 
 technique; light, rapid, deliberate, accurate 
 manipulation, equality and continuity of touch, 
 lucidity of style, power of phrasing and imparting 
 character and expression, artistic perfection in the 
 rendering of pianissimos, subdued chord accom- 
 paniment, crescendo, diminuendo, quiet, sweet, 
 dreamy melody, dashing climaxes and reverberating 
 thunder-tones; executes in superb fashion the 
 "Waldstein" or "Kreutzer," Sonata of Beethoven, 
 the " Nachtstuck " of Schumann, Brahms's Sonata 
 in G Major, a " Hungarian Rhapsody ' by 
 Liszt, or a Ballade, a Bolero, a Concerto, an 
 Etude, or a Nocturne from Chopin ; Weber's 
 " Concertstuck " for piano and orchestra ; or, as 
 the talented ensemble-pianists, the Sisters Sutro, 
 in their highly artistic, delightful recitals, from 
 identity of technique, render it a difficult matter to 
 realise without the testimony of ocular demonstra- 
 tion that two pianos are in use, and ten ringers 
 manipulating the keys of each instrument; the 
 unity of performance producing effects that no 
 single operator could accomplish? For celestial 
 cadences what instrument can surpass the harp ; for 
 delicate delightful harmonics the kalian harp; 
 ' From which with airy flying fingers light, 
 Beyond each mortal touch the most refined, 
 The God of Winds drew (draws) sounds of deep 
 
 delight."* 
 
 for weird and dulcet tones, the lyre; for soothing 
 sound, solemnity and grandeur of tone, the har- 
 monium ; for depth, volume, sublimity, the great 
 organ, " rolling contrition from its mouths of 
 gold."* 
 
 'Thomson. "Longfellow.
 
 21 
 
 Every country has a style of music peculiarly its 
 own. The explanation of such diversity is the work 
 of the metaphysician. Without presuming to offer 
 a solution of the problem, we would present the 
 following considerations as perhaps shedding some 
 light on this philosophical question. The topo- 
 graphy of the country, the aspects, agencies, and 
 operations of physical nature as interpreted by the 
 inhabitants, their environment and mode of life, 
 their legends, superstitions, and religious beliefs, 
 the extent of education in their midst, the form of 
 government under which the people live, and the 
 degree of freedom they enjoy, their successes or 
 reverses in war; these would find expression in the 
 minstrelsy of their musicians, and the musings of 
 their poets. Music is of little value unless it meets 
 with the response of the heart, lives in the affections 
 of a people, incorporates itself with their social life, 
 enunciates the national sentiments, and wings the 
 national aspirations. The opera in its varied forms, 
 fugues, clarinet sonatas, are ephemeral in their 
 effect and fleeting in their popularity, rarely sound- 
 ing the depths of the human heart, stirring into 
 responsive vibration its many-chorded harp, and 
 lingering in the soul, although their execution be 
 faultless, they be lauded by critics, regarded as 
 capable by the judgment of the hour, and ap- 
 plauded by an audience of culture and fashion. It 
 is a misfortune that our national musical literature, 
 which, in so far at least as Scotland is concerned, in 
 conjunction with our sturdy Protestantism, our 
 spirit of independence, and our love of civil and 
 religious liberty, form the foundation of our
 
 22 
 
 national character ; should be, or seem to be, super- 
 seded in these days by a preference in the upper 
 and middle ranks of society for classical and 
 Continental music. While classical music occupies 
 the supreme position in the domain of musical 
 literature, the value of national song cannot be 
 over-estimated; and we would echo the spirited 
 and patriotic sentiments on this subject sung 
 by the late Rev. John Skinner in his song of 
 " Tullochgorum " 
 
 " There needna be sae great a fraise (fuss) 
 Wi' dringing dull Italian lays ; 
 I wadna gi'e our ain strathspeys 
 For half a hunder score o' 'em. 
 They're douff and dowie at the best (sad and 
 
 doleful), 
 
 Douff and dowie, douff and dowie ; 
 They're douff and dowie at the best, 
 Wi' a' their variorum. 
 They're douff and dowie at the best, 
 Their allegros and a' the rest ; 
 They canna please a Scottish taste 
 Compared wi' Tullochgorum." 
 
 The Principality of Wales affords an outstand- 
 ing and praiseworthy example to other nationalities 
 in the celebration of their annual " Eisteddfod," a 
 festival, at which the music of the great choir 
 surging and swelling in mighty volume, then dis- 
 solving in slow extended cadences, expresses impres- 
 sively and effectually as no other medium could, 
 the love of the people for their native land; their
 
 23 
 
 language), history, ancient rites and observances; 
 their independence, self-confidence, love of liberty, 
 Celtic fire and poetic fervour; their mountains 
 robed in mist, or re-echoing the reverberation 
 of the thunder ; the long roll and tumble of the waves 
 on their sea-board; the night-moaning of the west 
 wind, on which the spirits of their ancestors ride, or, 
 bearing along through gorges and over mountain 
 tops the voices, wailings, and tears of a dim and 
 distant past ; and the melody " Aberystwyth " 
 caught up by the vast assemblage voices their belief 
 in immortality and a better land. Assuming 
 then, a general recognition of the great importance 
 of national music, we would advocate a University 
 of Music for Great Britain and Ireland; or pre- 
 ferably a College of Music for England, Scotland, 
 Ireland, and Wales, respectively; built and en- 
 dowed by popular subscription, superintended 
 by the best musical minds in these different 
 countries, and with a staff of professors, to which 
 students, male and female, on payment of certain 
 fees, could repair, to study the science of music, its 
 history, the art of singing and playing, the song, 
 ballad, and hymn literature, and the masterpieces 
 of eminent composers ; obtaining a diploma at the 
 termination of the curriculum provided their course 
 of study and examinations entitled them to the 
 distinction. Further, arrangements could be made 
 by which candidates, unable to afford the expense 
 of a college career, after private tuition and ex- 
 amination in one or more branches of the subject, 
 and on payment of fees, receive certificates of pro- 
 ficiency. By a system such as this a renaissance of
 
 24 
 
 our national music, which, through " streams of 
 tendency "* and from " phantoms of temporary 
 fashion "* in musical circles, is in danger of being 
 relegated to the background ; and the efficient edu- 
 cation of those imbued with a desire to study the 
 sublime science, " untwisting all the chains that 
 tie the hidden soul of harmony,"f and lap them- 
 selves in its paradisiacal pleasures, may be confi- 
 dently anticipated, with the appearance of new stars 
 in our sky-sphere of song. Further still, the death- 
 blow would be given to some academies and 
 schools, which, there is sufficient ground for be- 
 lieving, have been founded and sustained solely on 
 a commercial basis, and to those despicable 
 mercenary musical agents who cruelly exploit 
 mediocrities among young men and women, who, 
 as a legitimate means of obtaining a livelihood (and 
 with whom we have sincere sympathy) adopt music 
 as a trade in these days of a struggle for existence. 
 
 While pressing the claims of national music 
 through the agency of the foregoing institutions, it 
 would be ungrateful, base, disloyal on our part, did 
 we fail to eulogise and extol the relations of our 
 Royal Family to British music generally, from the 
 time of Albert the Good to the present day. 
 Prince Albert was a highly educated musician, who, 
 from the exalted pedestal on which he was placed 
 exerted an influence in raising the standard of 
 musical taste, and advancing musical knowledge in 
 these islands, that cannot be exaggerated. He ex- 
 tended regal patronage to the performance of the 
 
 * Gladstone. * Gladstone. t Milton.
 
 25 
 
 works of many of the great music masters at festivals 
 and concerts, commanding their production at 
 the Court also. During the sixty years' reign of 
 Queen Victoria, and under the gracious auspices 
 of that noble and immortal lady, British music 
 made great progress in distinctive departments ; 
 exemplified in the domain of opera by the achieve- 
 ments of Gilbert and Sullivan, Vincent Wallace, 
 Goring Thomas, Sir Alexander Mackenzie, and 
 Hamish MacCunn ; in oratorio, by those of 
 Macfarren, Sterndale Bennett, Villiers Stamford, 
 Hubert H. Parry, and others; and in the great 
 centres festivals are periodically celebrated, at 
 which the members of the industrial com- 
 munity, as well as the upper ten thousand, may 
 hear and enjoy the performance of the works of the 
 greatest musical minds. We do not now require 
 to repair to Continental capitals for this priceless 
 privilege, for London is the Mecca to which com- 
 posers and musicians of every type and order of 
 merit make devoted pilgrimage. Was there one 
 subject in these realms whose heart, apart from 
 individual opinion concerning forms of govern- 
 ment, did not go out in affection and loyalty to our 
 departed Sovereign Lady and the members of the 
 Royal House, was not fanned into patriotic fervour 
 as the strains of our National Anthem, " God Save 
 our Gracious Queen," from audience, choristers, 
 and orchestra, rolled in diapason, storming the 
 Palace of the King of Kings ; or was oblivious or 
 wilfully insensible to the truth that the prayers it 
 embodied were abundantly answered in the long 
 life of Queen Victoria, Empress of India ; and,
 
 26 
 
 during her illustrious reign, our country's freedom 
 from invasion, her high industrial position among 
 the nations, her unexampled commercial prosperity 
 and fabulous wealth ; her advancement in educa- 
 tion, literature, philosophy, the arts and sciences; 
 her share in the triumphs of invention and dis- 
 covery, the knowledge of the constitution and laws 
 of Nature and man's relation to the external world ; 
 her political and social reformations, her philan- 
 thropic schemes and humanitarian institutions; the 
 just, and, withal, merciful administration of the 
 law ; the extension of Christianity, and the benefi- 
 cent government of an empire upon which the sun 
 never sets? 
 
 The effects of musical sounds upon the mind are 
 determined by the nature of the subject or incident, 
 the ideas, sentiments, feelings, passions, enunciated 
 through their instrumentality. What a nerving, 
 emboldening effect is exerted by a martial lyric on 
 the minds of soldiers and naval heroes as they 
 mobilise on the occasion of a national crisis, and 
 when in conflict with the foe on land or sea; the 
 ' Marseillaise " of the French, the majestic " Boje 
 Zara Crani " of the Russians; the " Star-spangled 
 Banner " and " Dixie," of the Americans; " God 
 save our gracious King," ' Rule Britannia," " Ye 
 Mariners of England," of the British? Incited by 
 its inspiration of patriotism and valour, death is 
 forgotten, the smoke and carnage of the battle- 
 field and the deck slippery with blood, disregarded;
 
 27 
 
 and the brave warriors advance " into the jaws of 
 death ; into the mouth of hell,"* ready to fight and 
 die for the cause of their King, their country, and 
 their God ! The war-charger also, with flowing 
 mane and fiery eye, pawing with impatient hoof, 
 neighing, champing the bit in the pride of his 
 spirit, his quivering chest lathered with flaky foam, 
 when he hears the clangour of arms, the blast of the 
 trumpet, the loud musical sound of the aluminium 
 drum, his eagerness for the fray intensified by the 
 " confused noise "* and wild music of the battle- 
 field, rusheth in his fury into the fiery bosom of the 
 fight, mingling with the boom of artillery, storm 
 and whizz of shot and shell, sulphurous clouds of 
 smoke and dust, wrecked ordnance, heaps of the 
 slain, soiled and blood-sprent uniforms and tattered 
 ensigns, and groans and gore and dying agonies ! 
 At a coronation ceremony, jubilee celebration, or 
 royal marriage, what zest is added to the 
 general joy by the fanfare of silver trumpets, 
 carillon music of chiming and change-ringing, 
 Mendelssohn's " Bridal March," or Wagner's 
 " Bridal March " from " Lohengrin," on the peal- 
 ing organ, and by the military band and orchestra? 
 Callous indeed must the heart of that person be 
 who does not feel thrills of emotion, who is not 
 affected to tears at the impressive burial service of 
 the Church of England, as the surpliced choristers 
 sing, and the organist plays anthems suited to the 
 solemn hour; and the hymns, "Rock of Ages," 
 " Now the labourer's task is o'er," " Peace, per- 
 fect peace !" How it is burdened with the circum- 
 
 * Tennyson. * Isaiah, chap. 9, v. 5.
 
 28 
 
 stance of woe, the feelings struggling to have vent 
 in tears at the solemn strains, the wailing music of 
 " The Dead March '" in " Saul," from draped, 
 brazen instruments and muffled drums; or, while 
 affected to weeping, solaced by the sweet, plaintive 
 air, " The Land o' the Leal," played by the pipers, 
 as the regiment with slow, measured tread, heads 
 bent, weapons reversed, the riderless charger with 
 sword by its side and pistols in the holster, the 
 coffin, on which are laid deceased's sword and 
 helmet, conveyed on a gun carriage and covered 
 with the Union Jack and wreaths ; accompanies the 
 dead body of its officer to his last resting place, 
 where the din of war is heard no more ; or as a grief- 
 stricken nation in all the sombre habiliments of 
 mourning, consigns with solemn pomp and show, 
 and to the solemn and sublime Funeral March of 
 Beethoven or Chopin on organ, trumpets, and 
 trombones, (welling up in the soul inexpressible 
 emotions), the mortal remains of monarch, warrior, 
 statesman, or patriot, to mausoleum, cathedral, or 
 national Valhalla, where moulder into dust the 
 illustrous dead; and when some time after inter- 
 ment, Mozart's ' Requiem " is celebrated in 
 memoriam, and for the repose of the immortal 
 soul ! What a revelation of sanctified poetic 
 genius, lyric ardour, holy passion, and fervent 
 emotion, reverence, humility, heavenly purity, 
 profound gratitude to the Eternal Father of man- 
 kind, evinced by the " highly favoured "* mother 
 of our Lord, is unfolded by the combined singing 
 and instrumental rendering of " The Magnificat;" 
 
 * Luke, chap. 1, v. 28.
 
 29 
 
 that noble hymn forming part of the liturgy of 
 Christendom ! How the mind is paralysed into 
 pensiveness, hushed into sympathetic silence, and 
 deeply moved, throughout the rendering of the 
 dolorous strains, the elegiac melodies of Dvorak's 
 " Stabat Mater;" and exalted to the highest degree 
 of adoration, thanksgiving, and triumph at the re- 
 cital of " Te Deum Laudamus;" a hymn upon 
 which the genius of the greatest composers has 
 wrought in order to give it effective musical ex- 
 pression ! How the mind rides to glory on the 
 rushing wings of sublime harmony, as the oratorio, 
 Handel's " Messiah," rolls from the majestic organ 
 with orchestral accompaniment, and a choir of five 
 hundred voices; or as the symphony cantata, 
 Mendelssohn's " Hymn of Praise," as performed at 
 the Crystal Palace, London, by the Handel 
 Orchestra of two thousand and five hundred chori- 
 sters and five hundred instrumentalists, lifts the vast 
 auditory from earth ; till, in sublime and wrapt 
 devotional fancy, it imagines itself as swelling the 
 company of the redeemed around the rainbow- 
 girdled throne, feeling the thrill of golden harps, 
 the tremor of the silvery tide shaken by the 
 thunder-chant from the great organ of Eternity ! 
 How the spirit is overawed into adoration 
 of the majesty, power, and glory of Jehovah, 
 omnific, sempiternal, by the sublimity of 
 Haydn's "Creation;" at the rendering of whose 
 ' Let there be Light " the aged composer of the 
 immortal oratorio raised his hands heaven-ward, 
 and gave expression to the following exclamatory 
 utterance, effacing self, but glorifying God;
 
 30 
 
 "Not from me, but from God has it come;" a 
 distinguished testimony to the truth that all great 
 poets and musicians are but the humble but 
 highly honoured instruments through whom Divine 
 thoughts and messages are transmitted ; enchant- 
 ing humanity, arresting the attention of the world ! 
 How the soul of man desires to look into the 
 mysteries of redeeming love, and his affections 
 are drawn towards the kind and suffering Saviour 
 under the influence of Gounod's " Redemption;" 
 and is fixed in a condition of religious 
 ecstasy throughout the performance of Bach's 
 " Christmas Cantatas!" How the mind is over- 
 whelmed by the brilliance of Beethoven's colossal 
 ' Missa Solennis," to which no choir and orchestra 
 extant can render adequate justice ; spell-bound, 
 and the tongue paralysed under the overpowering 
 influence of the immortal overture to Tannhauser; 
 attracted by the richness of melody, captivated 
 with, and celestialised by, the musical expression of 
 empyreal conceptions of beauty in the " Jupiter " 
 Symphony of Mozart ; wafted to Fairyland by 
 Mendelssohn's overture to " A Midsummer Night's 
 Dream;" where we see on a bed of roses, on the 
 grass carpet of the enchanted wood, Queen Titania 
 cordoned by her retinue of elves, (their delicately- 
 tinted and transparent wings quivering in the lovely 
 moonlight), and hear their sweet choric " Lulla, 
 lulla, lullaby," as they, invoking the aid of melodi- 
 ous Philomel, sing their beautiful lady to sleep, 
 and exorcise all baneful and repulsive intruders 
 from the charmed circle; allured by the sensuous 
 character of the music of Saint-Saen's sacred opera, 
 " Samson and Delilah;" suggesting as it does from
 
 31 
 
 beginning to end the seductive power of the 
 temptress ; and powerfully impressed and fascinated 
 by the rude pomp, the semi-barbaric grandeur, the 
 thunder crashes, the leviathan tones, the sonorous cli- 
 maxes of Tscha'ikowsky's " Symphony Pathetique ;" 
 'mid the tempestuous elements of which the 
 soul of music breathes ! One of the greatest 
 triumphs of music is the therapeutic application of 
 the art in mental disease and nervous affections. 
 We once saw a number of insane persons in 
 Gartnavel Asylum, Glasgow ; under the control of 
 their superintendent and warders admitted into a 
 large hall, in which a musical festival was conducted 
 for their benefit. Under the lively performances of a 
 large choir, the enchanting choruses rendered by 
 its members in conjunction with a band of musical 
 instruments, the glaring eye of the demented young 
 woman rolled less frequently ; her hand, at other 
 times pressed against her right temple, spontane- 
 ously dropped on her lap, and, for the time being, 
 she seemed to be clothed and in her right mind. 
 On looking over the mass of fatuity, we fancied we 
 could perceive a benign alteration in the facial ex- 
 pression of not a few of these unfortunates, and at 
 the conclusion of the glee, " Hail, Smiling Morn," 
 noticed one joining in the applause that rung from 
 the audience of reason invited to the concert. In 
 connection with this subject we were gratified with 
 reading an account of the Vaschide-Duprat 
 Sanatorium or therapeutic institution for the insane 
 at Villejuif, in France. The former of these philan- 
 thropists in a specialist in lunacy, the latter a pianist ; 
 both believing that the divine art exerts a curative
 
 32 
 
 influence on diseased mental organs. Having tested 
 their opinion by experimental performances of 
 various forms of music in presence of the patients, 
 we are informed : " Wonderful changes creep over 
 the expressionless faces ; it is as if the old sweetness 
 of their lives returns for a moment, reawakened by 
 the power of sound. One says music makes him 
 sad and thoughtful, and that it recalls to him certain 
 episodes in his life; it comforts him; another finds 
 that music both calms and exhilarates him. A girl 
 of seventeen, to whom a Chopin Nocturne is 
 played, declares that the melody reminds her of her 
 childhood, and of the people who loved her. 
 Music, she adds, is meant to make us forget the evils 
 of the present life, and bring back the happiness we 
 have lost. Another girl explains that music is de- 
 signed to make us think of the things we love; 
 when she listens to it she does not suffer, she forgets 
 her illness."* In such cases it is our modest scientific 
 opinion that sounds, when transmitted in pleasing 
 combinations to the brain and nervous system 
 suffering from functional or organic derangement, 
 act as a diffusible stimulant, tonic, and sedative. 
 We would therefore advocate the frequent employ- 
 ment of music in conjunction with strict observance 
 of the laws of health in the treatment of insanity 
 and nervous affections. Persons of a nervous and 
 excitable temperament will find a first-rate nerve 
 tonic and sedative in the occasional use of a cold 
 bath, and the patronage of musical entertainments; 
 and these, combined with moderate physical exer- 
 cise, pleasant social intercourse, interesting games, 
 
 * From " Review of Reviews," October, 1910 (Therapeutic Music).
 
 33 
 
 and the perusal of books of an interesting, enter- 
 taining, or humorous type, will be found beneficial 
 to those of a hypochondriacal cast of mind. Blessed 
 fruits blooming among the glowing treasures issuing 
 from the open mouth of Music's cornucopia are its 
 power of anesthetizing physical pain to some 
 degree at least, and of wooing " tir'd Nature's sweet 
 Restorer, balmy sleep."* 
 
 The late William Ewart Gladstone, the greatest 
 statesman of all time, a god among men ; who 
 suffered at an advanced age, excruciating torture 
 from acute neuralgia of one side of the face, which 
 was due either to necrosis or cancer of the nasal 
 bones, and who was reported to have said that the 
 pain was so terrific that at times he wished it would 
 please God to take him away ; found his chief relaxa- 
 tion in music, which sometimes lulled him to sleep; 
 and anyone who could play or sing was a welcome 
 guest at the Chateau Thorenc, Cannes, where he 
 had repaired for the benefit of his health. 
 
 Under all circumstances, in whatever situations 
 we find ourselves, music is a welcome companion 
 and a kind friend. In its all-encircling sphere, by 
 an inherent puissance, it exerts an indefinable 
 influence, a wondrous power over mankind ; vivify- 
 ing the imaginative faculty, appealing to the intel- 
 lect, emotions, and passions ; responding to every 
 sentiment and aspiration, touching all the springs 
 of life; enunciating the common feelings of 
 humanity; enthroning love as the regnant law in 
 the heart of man, and, with magnetic power 
 
 * Young.
 
 34 
 
 drawing individuals, communities, and nations into 
 the circle of a brotherhood embracing the world 
 and expanding through eternity ! It can " swell 
 the soul to rage or kindle soft desire.'" It 
 heightens our joys, soothes our sorrows, calms our 
 fears, banishes cares, pestiferous worries, and 
 anxieties ; dispels the loneliness of solitude, beguiles 
 the long dreary winter evenings, contributes more 
 than is generally imagined to the development and 
 stability of " Mens sana in corpore sano;"* lightens 
 labour, (hear the ploughboy whistle, the milkmaid 
 lilt an amorous ditty, the artizan sing a catch of 
 the latest popular song) ; awakens sorrowful, plea- 
 sant, or hallowed memories of byegone days; 
 kindles the fervour of patriotism, incites to valorous 
 exploits, stills the storm of passion, fans the flame 
 of religious fervour, intensifies the delights of love, 
 calls forth the fountain of tears, lies " gentler on the 
 spirit than tir'd eyelids upon tir'd eyes,'"" lifts or 
 brightens the heavy, dark cloud of despair, soothes 
 and cheers the chronic invalid on his weary bed, 
 testifies to immortality beyond the tomb, sus- 
 taining faith and hope when crossing the border 
 into " that undiscovered country from whose 
 bourne no traveller returns.'" We subjoin the 
 following cases illustrative of music as a universal 
 medium; and of establishing its supreme excellency 
 as a vehicle for the expression of the moods and 
 phases of the mind, and for enunciating the feel- 
 ings, emotions, and passions of the human heart 
 in the diversified experiences of life. The pro- 
 phetess Miriam celebrated the deliverance of her 
 
 * Dryden. * Juvenal. * Tennyson. * Shakespeare.
 
 35 
 
 nation from long and cruel bondage, and the over- 
 throw of its oppressors, by heading the procession 
 of women singers in choral chant, and sounding 
 on the timbrel the triumph of Jehovah of Hosts 
 the Almighty ; at whose recall the divided waves of 
 the Red Sea covered the miraculous pathway, the 
 Egyptians sinking like lead in the mighty waters; 
 and on the journey of the chosen people through 
 the desert of Arabia to the land of Canaan, when, 
 
 ' By day along the astonished lands 
 
 The cloudy pillar glided slow, 
 By night, Arabia's crimsoned sands 
 
 Returned the fiery column's glow. 
 There rose the choral hymn of praise, 
 
 And trump and timbrel answered keen ; 
 And Zion's daughters poured their lays, 
 
 With priest's and warrior's voice between."* 
 
 The triumphal song of Deborah and Barak was 
 a national ode of thanksgiving, sung, with instru- 
 mental accompaniment, to celebrate deliverance 
 from the iron despotism of Jabin, King of Canaan, 
 under which the people groaned for twenty years. 
 When the Kings of Israel, Judah and Edom, with 
 their allied armies, were marching against Moab 
 through the wilderness of Edom, they were in great 
 straits for want of water. In their distress they 
 appealed to the prophet Elisha. To calm his mind 
 and prepare it for supernatural communication, he 
 directed that a minstrel be brought and play before 
 him. " And it came to pass when the minstrel 
 played that the hand of the Lord came upon him,"* 
 
 * Sir Walter Scott.
 
 36 
 
 and he received and communicated to his royal 
 suitors the divine method of dealing with the emer- 
 gency. David, returning victorious from battle 
 with the Philistines, and with the head of their grim 
 defiant champion in his hand, received right royal 
 welcome from the Hebrew women, who " came 
 out of all cities of Israel, singing and dancing, to 
 meet King Saul with tabrets, with joy, and with 
 instruments of musick,"* and chanting in antiphony 
 this refrain of triumph and eclat" Saul hath slain 
 his thousands and David his ten thousands." 
 Strains from the harp vibrating under the deft 
 fingers of David exorcised the evil spirit from the 
 mind of Saul, and soothed his troubled breast. 
 
 Professional musicians, male and female, attended 
 at the Court of David, Solomon, and other Oriental 
 potentates ; who ministered delight to the Sovereign, 
 bewailed his death in elegy, and during seasons 
 of national prosperity flooded the land with 
 joyous melody. The illustrious monarch, " the 
 wisest man the world e'er saw,"* was a patron of 
 art, and the composer of fifteen hundred songs. 
 Confucius, the philosopher of China, evinced a 
 passionate love of music, and regarded it as indis- 
 pensable in the development of culture and char- 
 acter. Hemmed in on two occasions by a furious 
 mob that threatened his life, he disarmed the rage 
 of his enemies, soothed his perturbed spirit, and 
 assuaged the fears of his terrified followers by 
 singing odes and playing on the lute ; and when he 
 retired into private life music was solace and 
 
 * 2nd Kings, chap. 3, v. 15. * ist Samuel, chap. 18, verses 6-7. 
 * Burns.
 
 37 
 
 inspiration. King James I. of Scotland, the most 
 talented of the Stuarts, whose romantic life and 
 tragic death he was almost cut to pieces by his 
 murderers, who found him concealed in a vault 
 of the monastery of the Dominicans at Perth are 
 well known to students of history; took great 
 delight in the weird music of the harp, and the 
 composition of pathetic stanzas and exquisite love 
 poems. Mary Stuart, in the dreary confinement 
 of Lochleven Castle, alleviated the intolerable 
 monotony of imprisonment by the music of the 
 lute, and by the calling to mind and rehearsal of 
 
 * The songs she loved in early days, the songs of 
 
 gay Navarre; 
 The songs perchance that erst were sung by gallant 
 
 Chatelar."* 
 
 We learn, on the authority of Sir James Melvil, 
 Ambassador to the English Court in the reign of 
 Mary Queen of Scots, that Queen Elizabeth played 
 upon the virginals " when she was solitary, to avoid 
 melancholy;" that he was so ravished by the 
 melody as to be drawn into her chamber ere he 
 was aware ; and, that on being asked by the illus- 
 trious lady whether she or her Scottish contem- 
 porary was the superior musician, he had no hesita- 
 tion in awarding the English Queen the palm. It is 
 related of Marie Antoinette, the beautiful Queen 
 of Louis XVI. of France, that, in order to sustain 
 her spirit while in the presence of her brutal 
 accusers, she, in piano fashion, manipulated the bar 
 * Glassford Bell.
 
 38 
 
 at which she was arraigned as if it were a clavier, 
 her fancy reverting to some favourite melody she 
 was wont to play and sing in days of maiden 
 happiness. Tzar Alexander III. of Russia, the 
 peace-loving monarch, and, during his reign, the 
 preserver of the peace of Europe ; was extremely 
 sensitive to the soothing influence of music. He 
 played the trombone, and frequently took part in 
 quartettes in the Winter Palace. The last hours of 
 Sir Philip Sidney, one of England's greatest sons, 
 " the jewel of Queen Elizabeth's times,"* dying 
 at Arnheim from gangrene and comminuted frac- 
 ture of the left thigh-bone, the result of a musket- 
 shot sustained at the siege of Zutphen, were 
 solaced by music, and spent in holy thoughts and 
 conversation respecting the immortality of the soul. 
 Milton's harmony of versification was, it is said, the 
 effluence of musical taste inherited from his father. 
 Doubtless, to the inspiration of the divine art as well 
 as to the religious cast of his mind, his solemn mus- 
 ings, his imperial imagination, his extensive know- 
 ledge of Scripture and of heathen mythology, we are 
 indebted for the sublime conceptions and majestic 
 diction of his immortal epic, "Paradise Lost;" 
 his soul, careering on aspiring wing, hovering 
 before the rainbow-girdled throne of the Eternal ; 
 his pencil, tipped with the hues of the Iris, painting 
 for Time and Eternity the stupendous tragedies of 
 the Revolt in Heaven, and the Fall of Man ! 
 Luther, the great champion of the Reformation, 
 referring to the demon of religious doubt and fear, 
 wrote : " The devil is of a melancholic cast, and
 
 39 
 
 music soon drives him away." Probably it was 
 under the full force of this belief that he composed 
 the grand immortal tune "Old Hundredth;" 
 which every Sabbath hears sent up from the con- 
 gregation of the saints, or trembles on the lips of 
 " the priest-like father,"* the aged silver-haired 
 Christian, as he conducts family worship round the 
 warm hearthstone on a cold winter night; a picture 
 of domestic devotion, of the church in the house, 
 seldom seen in these days in the homes of our 
 native land. Robert Burns, our national and beloved 
 poet, in his master poem, "Tarn o' Shanter," 
 with a genius the electric light of which illumines 
 the nether world, reveals its secrets, and dis- 
 closes its horrors and deeds of darkness, repre- 
 sents the devil " in shape o' beast," " a towsy tyke, 
 black, grim, and large;" in a recess of the owl and 
 ghost-haunted ruin of Kirk Allowa' at dead of 
 night, as piper of the spectral carnival, blowing 
 lustily, till the roof and rafters reverberated to 
 the skirling pipes; and the horde, led on by 
 Nannie, la premiere danseuse of the witch and 
 warlock troupe, as inflamed by the music of the 
 demon-god, till, in delirium of infernal glee they 
 celebrated their orgies 
 
 " And hornpipes, jigs, strathspeys, and reels, 
 Put life and mettle in their heels." 
 
 Sir Walter Scott was very fond of national and 
 patriotic airs, and was charmed with the " waltzes 
 and mazurkas and Spanish melodies "* played by 
 
 * Burns. * From Letter by Mrs Hemans.
 
 40 
 
 Mrs. Hemans; that noble woman and delightful 
 poetess, while on a visit to the great magician at 
 Abbotsford. As an example of the effect produced 
 by an artist of commanding genius when giving 
 instrumental expression to the intensity of passion 
 or the terrifying conceptions of imagination, we 
 would instance the case of Lulli, who, after reading 
 in a French tragedy some stanzas descriptive of 
 appalling ideas, struck off from his harpsichord 
 such a conjunction of wild, horrific sounds, as 
 caused the hair of those who heard them to stand 
 on end " like quills upon the fretful porcupine."' 
 The marvellous pianoforte playing of Liszt 
 had such an overpowering effect upon the 
 boy, Anton Rubinstein, that he could only 
 cry. To pacify her crying child the mother 
 runs the gamut up and down on the piano, 
 and allows it to dump the ivory keys, or 
 dandles it in her arms or on her knees, keeping 
 time to a nursery rhyme or the sprightly strains 
 of the violin. As she hums a lullaby, the cherub 
 falls asleep on her bosom, safe in the arms of 
 maternal love. Grace Horsley Darling, who in 
 after years proved herself a heroine, was lulled to 
 sleep, the roar of the ocean, the thunder of the 
 surf, the howl of the gale, the sough, swish, plash, 
 and gurgle of the rain, the clink of the spindrift, 
 the crack of the hailstones driven against the case- 
 ment, and the cries of sea birds, mingling with the 
 maternal cradle-song; and the noble sea boy, with 
 blue eyes and auburn hair, is rocked to rest in his 
 hammock 'mid the wail of the night wind through 
 the rigging, and the chant of the surges rolling on. 
 * Shakespeare.
 
 41 
 
 When the great Cunarder, the " Mauretania," 
 (this record-breaking sea-hound), freed from the 
 leash of Neptune, accomplished the splendid feat 
 of the double passage to New York and back in 
 twelve days, the marvellous maritime achievement 
 was signalised by the flare and flash of lights, the 
 flushing of rockets, the hooting of syrens, the 
 huzzahs of the passengers, the cheers from the 
 crowds on shore, and the triumphant playing of 
 " Rule Britannia " and " Auld Lang Syne " by 
 the saloon band as she dropped anchor in the break- 
 water of Fishguard harbour. To perpetuate 
 the moral heroism, inspired to some extent 
 by devotion to their art, of the noble band of 
 musicians, who, to allay panic and mitigate ap- 
 prehensions of impending death in the awful dis- 
 aster to the "Titanic' 1 ' off Cape Race, on her 
 maiden voyage, 15th April, 1912 (unparalleled 
 in the annals of the sea, unless in that to the 
 " Empress of Ireland," May 29th, 1914) played the 
 hymn, " Nearer, my God, to Thee ;" the completion 
 of each verse a step higher towards the beckoning 
 angels at the top of the ladder of praise let down 
 from Heaven, and perished at their posts; the 
 National Federation of Professional Musicians 
 erected a bronze mural tablet on the stairway in 
 St. Andrew's Hall, Glasgow ; recording their names, 
 showing a glowing sunrise, a fractured and dis- 
 hevelled harp floating on the sea, and the figure of 
 a beautiful youth in angel arms; symbolic of the 
 dawn of eternal day the immortality of vicarious 
 sacrifice, of everything elevating, pure, loving, and 
 good; and the translation of these souls, meet for
 
 42 
 
 Heaven, to take their places in the eternal orchestra, 
 and augment the thrill of celestial minstrelsy 
 vibrating o'er the hyaline sea before the sapphire- 
 blazing throne. Standing on the shore on a 
 summer evening, and, from a boat on the bay, hear- 
 ing in song or hymn, the accordant voices of the 
 pleasure-seekers with the dulcet strains of a melo- 
 deon thrilling o'er the calm pellucid sea; one could 
 wish the scenic beauty not to fade, and the enchant- 
 ment not to die, that no storms swept the sea, no 
 clouds obscured the sky, no convulsions shook the 
 earth, no discords distracted the world, and no 
 minor tunes found a place on the programme of 
 the music of humanity. The singing of a familiar 
 song, psalm, or hymn, recalls to the emigrant's 
 memory the associations of the home and social 
 circle left behind; the Sabbath bell calling to wor- 
 ship in the old parish church, the aged pastor's 
 venerable aspect, each well-known face in the con- 
 gregation, the image of one in the pew dearer to 
 him than life, for whom he hopes to return and 
 claim as his own; the green mounds under which 
 repose the ashes of father, mother, sisters, brothers, 
 the granite tablet on which are registered in gilt 
 characters, their names, the dates and places of 
 birth and death, the Scripture quotations, " I am 
 the Resurrection and the Life,"* " Blessed are the 
 dead who die in the Lord,"* assuring immortality 
 and bliss beyond the grave; and his surcharged 
 heart finds relief in tears. The martyr has sung at 
 the stake while his body was being consumed, his 
 soul, like the angel who appeared to Manoah and 
 
 * John, chap. 11, verse 25. * Revelation, chap. 14, verse 13.
 
 43 
 
 his wife, ascending to Heaven in the flame of the 
 altar. In church or evangelistic meeting, the stony 
 heart of the natural man, unconverted by the argu- 
 ments, unmoved by the fervid appeals of the 
 preacher, has sometimes melted under the sweet, 
 tender, wooing strains of a psalm or hymn ; and 
 the infidel, the scoffer at regeneration, or the pro- 
 digal been thus won for the Kingdom, shining as a 
 rare jewel in the crown of Immanuel. And we 
 have read of pious bluejackets in the British Navy 
 having testified to hearing, when far at sea, through 
 the medium of wireless telephony, hymns being 
 sung at a religious meeting in a metropolis; the 
 melody ; ethereal, soft, and sweet, as if it streamed 
 from angelic harps on the mountains of Amaranth. 
 Leigh Hunt, poet and essayist, whose works are 
 characterised by fine fancy, prodigality of imagery, 
 and lively description, was passionately fond of 
 music, especially Italian airs. On his sick-bed, old 
 and feeble, he was being regaled shortly before his 
 death by some of his favourite pieces, sung by his 
 daughter in a neighbouring apartment ; and after ex- 
 pressing in a firm, audible voice his delight in them, 
 fainted and passed away. *The late Jenny Lind, 
 ' The Swedish Nightingale," in a letter written 
 to Hans Christian Andersen after recovery from 
 a protracted and severe illness, affirmed that 
 poetry, music, and art, are three glorious revelations 
 of the glorious God, and happy are we if we 
 have dared to approach the Throne of the Most 
 High through the doors of true art and poetry 
 . . . and her unceasing prayer that what she 
 
 * From " Lives of Great and Good Women."
 
 44 
 
 gave to her fellows might continue to live on 
 through eternity, and that the Giver of the gift and 
 not the creature to whom He lent it, might be 
 praised and acknowledged. How humiliating the 
 reflection, that, throughout the course of human 
 history, the Queen of Song, radiant with eternal 
 beauty and juvenescence, has been seduced from 
 her throne among the spheres to become the vile 
 functionary of " Procuress to the lords of hell ;"t 
 that the noble art of music has been prostituted, its 
 high functions degraded, and made to minister to 
 the worst passions of human nature, in mad revolu- 
 tionary carmagnole, in boisterous Bacchanalian 
 dithyramb, and in investing with an indissoluble 
 glamour the allurements of voluptuousness. 
 Superior to instrumental music and the harmonies 
 of creation is the music of the human voice : the 
 vocal chords strung, and pitched, and biassed by the 
 Divine Musician himself; the Architect of our 
 bodies, and the Author of our immortal minds. 
 The beneficent Creator has so constructed the vocal 
 apparatus as to give true expression to every state 
 of the mind and every feeling of the heart. The 
 tones and accents of the human voice when wedded 
 to words, or linked to verse, produce diverse and 
 powerful effects on the mind of the hearer; and 
 when we consider its range, flexibility, and ten- 
 derness, specially exemplified in eminent vocalists 
 such as the late Jenny Lind, Madame Albani, 
 Madame Patti, Madame Medora Henson, 
 Miss Marguerite Macintyre, Mrs Katherine Fisk, 
 the distinguished American contralto, and 
 
 t Tennyson.
 
 45 
 
 Madame Melba, the famous Australian soprano, 
 the late Sims Reeves, and Edward Lloyd; 
 Benjamin Davies, Andrew Black, and Hirwen Jones, 
 can we for one moment doubt, that, in so 
 constituting it, the Creator had in view the 
 happiness of the creature? Physiologists 
 have recently invited the attention of the 
 public to vocal practice as a preventive of pul- 
 monary disease, or a remedy for it in the incipient 
 stage. From statistics collected in Italy, it was 
 proved that professional singers and brass instru- 
 mentalists lived to a long age; their immunity from 
 phthisis, pneumonia, pleurisy, bronchitis, emphy- 
 sema, laryngitis, and other diseases of the respira- 
 tory tracts and organs being attributable to 
 development of the muscles of the chest and other 
 anatomical structures concerned in the production 
 of tone; resulting from these parts being brought 
 into healthy action in the prosecution of their 
 art. Their robust chests, the product of this 
 system of thoracic gymnastics, resist the inroads 
 of the tubercle bacilli, " so minute, according to 
 Sir R. W. Philip, M.D., F.R.C.P., that no fewer 
 than 400,000,000 might be placed shoulder to shoul- 
 der on the surface of a postage stamp ;" and are not 
 so liable to be affected by a chill or vitiated air as 
 the lungs of persons who neglect the means of pre- 
 serving them in a healthy state. The most ad- 
 vanced and sensible medical men, in view of these 
 facts, advise those who have a hereditary tendency 
 to chest diseases, even those who are already 
 suffering from them, to practise singing or take 
 vocal exercise in moderation ; prophesying a
 
 46 
 
 greater beneficial result than could be achieved by 
 the administration of medicine. While vocal 
 exercise is specifically prescribed, observance of the 
 laws of health forms an important part of the treat- 
 ment. Mrs. Mary Davies, a distinguished artiste in 
 musical circles, began her professional career at the 
 age of sixteen. At that time her constitution was 
 fragile, and her voice very weak. Robust and 
 vivacious, she attributes her present good health 
 almost entirely to singing. A person without a 
 particle of voice is to her a " rara avis," and, for 
 the sake of health, she advises everyone to practise 
 the singer's art. This necessitates long inspira- 
 tions, the -proper method of breathing, a vital 
 function which few people can adequately perform ; 
 the majority simply renewing the air in the organs 
 by short respiratory efforts. When the act is pro- 
 perly performed, nervous and muscular energy are 
 evoked, resulting in tonicity of the structures 
 brought into play. Her regime for professionals 
 ought to be strictly observed. They should live as 
 simply as possible, and never sing unless when in 
 thorough condition ; to ensure which, she recom- 
 mends walking, gardening, and domestic work. 
 Nervousness has never prevented this prima donna 
 from fulfilling her engagements, although she has 
 sometimes wished the platform would swallow her 
 up. She abjures stimulants, and complains that 
 when artistes sing at some public dinners cham- 
 pagne only is brought them to drink. She further 
 says : Any strong scent has a detrimental effect on 
 the voice. If there happened to be a bouquet near 
 me while I was singing, I should momentarily
 
 47 
 
 expect a tickling in the throat. One of the 
 greatest singers of the century refuses to remain 
 even for an instant in a room which contains 
 flowers. The climax of good singing is to sing 
 without the slightest appearance of effort, and the 
 author would add, with distinct articulation and 
 correct pronunciation; a sine qua non conspicuous 
 by its absence in the great majority of professional 
 singers to whom he has listened. The hardest time 
 to sing is when one is in sorrow, and when in 
 sorrow it is easier to sing a light song than a sacred 
 one. What is required of you is to master your 
 emotions in order to make other people feel 
 emotion. You do not produce the same effect on 
 your audience that is produced on you, though 
 your singing is possibly better when that emotion 
 has passed through you. I often think it is a mis- 
 take for folk to say that they can tell by the 
 exhibition of emotion when a singer believes in 
 the things he or she may be singing; as the art 
 should be so good as to conceal all effort. These 
 statements are reproduced partly in our own words, 
 principally in those of the popular artiste, from a 
 communication to Cassell's Saturday Journal, 
 Oct. 23rd, 1895, entitled, " Singing as a Profession : 
 A Chat with Mrs. Mary Davies." The mar- 
 vellous fabric of the human body (a microcosm in 
 itself), each process in the development of its com- 
 ponent parts as patent to, every bone, joint, muscle, 
 organ, artery, vein, nerve, gland, cell, as distinct 
 before, the eye of the Divine Architect, the Source 
 of all life, the Author of the immortal mind, prior 
 to, as after the completion of the wondrous
 
 48 
 
 structure, constrained the Psalmist to exclaim: 
 " I will praise Thee ; for I am fearfully and wonder- 
 fully made. Marvellous are Thy works, and that 
 my soul knoweth right well. My substance was 
 not hid from Thee, when I was made in secret, and 
 curiously wrought in the lowest parts of the earth. 
 Thine eyes did see my substance, yet being imper- 
 fect ; and in Thy book all my members were 
 written, which in continuance were fashioned when 
 as yet there was none of them." 1 Surely, then, it 
 is the duty and privilege of every individual to 
 glorify the Creator in his or her body, mind, and 
 soul, which are God's; and in no better and more 
 acceptable manner can we glorify our Maker (we 
 speak particularly of those whom the Creator has 
 endowed with musical talent) than by consecrating 
 that talent to His service, and endeavouring to 
 render the worship of song in the house of the 
 Lord an offering worthy of the name ; and by the 
 rehearsal on Sabbath evenings in the domestic 
 circle of " psalms, and hymns, and spiritual 
 songs,"* hearts, voices, and instruments in full 
 accord. We would take this opportunity, even 
 with the risk of laying ourselves open to the charge 
 of digression, of deploring and protesting against 
 the profanation of the sacred day by the present 
 generation desertion of the House of God, boat- 
 ing, cycling, motoring, bowling, and golf playing; 
 parties in vehicles out for a day's pleasure, long 
 walks, roaming through the fields, the patronage 
 of the performance of selections of sacred and 
 secular music in our parks and public halls, stroll- 
 
 * Psalm 139, verses 14-16. * Ephesians, chap. 5, verse 19.
 
 49 
 
 ing through museums and picture galleries, for all 
 of which desirable, nay, necessary pastimes, ample 
 time ought to be set apart from the six days during 
 which the business of life is prosecuted; petty 
 trading, frivolous talk and conversation concerning 
 worldy affairs, instead of " a holy resting all that 
 day, even from such worldly employments and 
 recreations as are lawful on other days, and spend- 
 ing the whole time in the public and private exer- 
 cises of God's worship, except so much as is to be 
 taken up in the works of necessity and mercy;'" 
 the study of the Bible and standard religious works, 
 imparting Christian instruction to the members of 
 the family, and a knowledge of the physical, 
 organic, intellectual, and moral laws of the Creator, 
 obedience to which will be attended with beneficent, 
 and infringement of them with punitive, conse- 
 quences to the individual ; especially impressing 
 these truths on the plastic mind of youth, so that, 
 through observance of these laws, with the teaching 
 of Christianity super added and predominant, the 
 rising generation may grow up men and women of 
 a healthy development of body, mind, and soul 
 
 " A virtuous populace may rise the while 
 
 And stand a wall of fire around their much-loved Isle."* 
 
 What would our pious forefathers have thought 
 of such desecration of the first day of the week ; and 
 in what light does God regard those who despise 
 His Sabbaths and have no reverence for His sanc- 
 tuary ? Satisfactory answers to these serious ques- 
 tions will be forthcoming when we reflect upon the 
 
 * Shorter Catechism ; answer to question 60. * Burns.
 
 50 
 
 exemplary manner in which our ancestors observed 
 the Day of Rest, the inestimable value they 
 attached to it as a season for holding special com- 
 munion with the God and Father of their spirits, 
 and preparing them for the eternal Sabbath of the 
 Sky; and when we consult the declarations of the 
 Sacred Word on this important subject. A great 
 improvement has been effected in church music 
 during the last thirty years, especially in country 
 congregations. Trained choirs have been insti- 
 tuted, and harmoniums and organs introduced as 
 auxiliaries ; and still greater progress and efficiency 
 may be confidently anticipated from the Choir 
 Union movement among Presbyteries and Synods, 
 which is the subject of a special article in the 
 January (1913) number of " Life and Work " by 
 Rev. George Marjoribanks, convener of the Com- 
 mittee of Psalmody and Hymns; which, let us hope, 
 is a chord in the prelude of concord with regard to 
 that " consummation devoutly to be wished,"* the 
 larger union of the two great Presbyterian divisions 
 of the Church in Scotland; with the ultimate incor- 
 poration of all Protestant denominations through- 
 out the country under the banner of a truly 
 national Zion. Some people object, on what they 
 believe to be conscientious grounds, to the use of 
 instrumental music in the services of the sanctuary. 
 Opposition, however, is fast disappearing before 
 the renaissance of the (esthetic in worship. This is 
 a matter for congratulation ; because, the Churches 
 in our land, some of them barn-like structures, 
 which, we are glad to observe, have undergone 
 
 * Shakespeare.
 
 51 
 
 renovation in some places, and in other localities 
 have been superseded by edifices with more preten- 
 sions to architectural elegance and artistic taste, 
 their interior forms and dimensions according with 
 accoustics ; the bleak, bald service of Presbyterianism 
 and the asceticism of Puritanism which detest the 
 ritual of Episcopacy, are the beggarly legacies of 
 the Reformers ; who, in their fanaticism and hatred 
 of everything associated with Roman Catholicism, 
 incited the people to, and took part in, the de- 
 molition of magnificent cathedrals and churches, 
 monuments of architectural genius; a species of 
 vandalism worthy of the Goths, the Huns, or the 
 Heruli ; and in the service of the Reformed Church 
 interdicted the employment of organs, the wearing 
 of the chasuble and other paraphernalia of the 
 priesthood, abolished its system of forms and rites, 
 and frowned upon the trophies of human art and 
 genius as accessories to public worship, or in any 
 way aiding or rendering it attractive ; regarding 
 these as simulacra, ecclesiastical snobbery, and 
 dilettantism ; allurements of the great Enemy of 
 Souls. While the faculty of constructiveness and 
 the sense of the value of property demand unsparing 
 condemnation of such an outrageous exhibition of 
 the animal propensity of destructiveness in human 
 nature, and our faculties of time and tune and our 
 inherent love of the beautiful long for the provi- 
 sion for their gratification afforded by the triumphs 
 of human invention, art, and genius, which, when 
 hallowed by the religious sentiments, refine and 
 elevate our spiritual perceptions; its severity will 
 be somewhat modified when we reflect that the
 
 52 
 
 human spirit, in freeing itself from oppression, the 
 bonds of slavery, vindicating its right to breathe 
 the air of native freedom, with a vengeance born of 
 protracted suffering, unrelenting persecution and 
 galling tyranny, demolishes every vestige of the 
 accursed despotism under which it groaned ; that 
 the Reformation was the liberation of Christendom 
 from the fetters of Popery, denned by the late 
 Dr. Begg as an organisation of "paganism, perverted 
 Scripture, and superstition;" establishing during the 
 awful period of its despotic, relentless supremacy, 
 allegiance to its dogmas, supporting its nefarious 
 pretensions, enforcing submission to its exactions 
 and directions, and the performance of ceremonies 
 and mummeries, by penance, penalties, threats of 
 excommunication, the pains of purgatory, horrible 
 tortures and deaths, and dread of the anathemas of 
 the Holy Father, who, with impious effrontery, 
 assumes the titles, "Vicar of Christ," " Vice-gerent 
 of God," " the Spiritual and Civil Ruler of 
 the World;" the monstrous system invested with 
 the majesty of imposing ceremonial, the splendour 
 of elaborate ritual ! If, however, architecture, 
 sculpture, carving, painting, music, refine and ele- 
 vate the conceptions of the human mind, (and we 
 have the high authority of John Ruskin that 
 " whatever is great in human art is the expression 
 of man's delight in God's work; a pure heart and 
 earnest mind being essential to success "), why 
 should not every religious edifice be a beautiful 
 house in which to worship God, the fountain of all 
 beauty, the Author of every good and perfect gift? 
 
 With all due respect to the conscientious scruples
 
 53 
 
 of those who are not yet converted to the use of 
 instrumental music in the services of the sanctuary, 
 we venture to affirm that its employment as an aid 
 to worship is not in diametric opposition to Holy 
 Scripture. It formed part of the Jewish ritual, and 
 had the direct approval of Jehovah ; and those who 
 base an objection on the ground of the super- 
 session of the Old by the New Dispensation, must 
 explain why vocal melody alone, should be retained 
 in the services of the Christian Church, and instru- 
 mental abolished, seeing that both were employed 
 by the Jews in divine worship. Anticipating a reply 
 to the effect that the service of praise in the Chris- 
 tian Church should be, as directed in the Epistle 
 to the Ephesians, " speaking to yourselves in 
 psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, singing and 
 making melody in your heart unto the Lord,"* 
 we answer ' If instrumental music had tended to 
 supersede or affect in any way the genuineness of 
 this, the true spirit of the worship of praise as of 
 other forms of devotion, the manifestation of 
 which was as necessary to divine acceptance in the 
 case of the Jew as it is in the case of the Christian, 
 its employment in divine service would not have 
 obtained the sanction of the Most High. The high 
 priest's ingress to, and egress from, the holy place, 
 was accompanied by the tintinnabulation of golden 
 bells, alternating with figures of pomegranates on 
 the skirts of his robe. David brought the ark of 
 the covenant from Kiriath-jearim to the house of 
 Obed-edom, he and all Israel playing before God 
 " with all their might, and with singing, and with 
 
 * Ephesians, chap, v., verse 19.
 
 54 
 
 harps, and with psalteries, and with timbrels, and 
 with cymbals, and with trumpets."* When Solomon 
 with the elders, the heads of the tribes, and the 
 princes of Israel, transferred the sacred chest from 
 Jerusalem to the temple on Mount Moriah, " unto 
 his place to the oracle of the house, into the most 
 holy place, even under the wings of the cheru- 
 bims,"* "' it came even to pass as the trumpeters 
 and singers were as one, to make one sound to be 
 heard in praising and thanking the Lord " fe with 
 one accord celebrated the eternal mercy and good- 
 ness of Jehovah, that the Shechinah flooded the 
 sacred edifice with insufferable effulgence, " so that 
 the priests could not stand to minister by reason of 
 the cloud : for the glory of the Lord had filled the 
 house of God."' Throughout the book of Psalms 
 there are references to concurrent vocal and instru- 
 mental music as a religious rite; its propriety and 
 pleasance as a medium through which to render 
 homage to God; individual vows, resolutions, and 
 exhortations thus to celebrate the majesty, power, 
 glory, wisdom, and goodness of the Creator as 
 manifested in His works; and the righteousness, the 
 faithfulness, the mercy, and the loving kindness of 
 the Lord. The last psalm, a fitting close to the 
 collection, which forms an incomparable manual of 
 devotion, and a precious legacy to the Church in all 
 ages, is an exhortation from its author to earth and 
 heaven, to praise his Divine Master upon all kinds 
 of musical instruments; and a call to the whole 
 animate creation to join in ascriptions to the 
 
 * ist Chronicles, chap, xiii., verse 8. 
 * 2nd Chronicles, chap, v., verses 7-13. 
 
 * 2nd Chronicles, chap, v., verse 14.
 
 55 
 
 Creator. In the gospels and epistles of the New 
 Testament, instrumental music is neither sanctioned 
 nor forbidden, but left as a matter for individuals 
 and congregations to settle for themselves. How- 
 ever, when an angel announced the nativity to the 
 Juda^an shepherds, the welkin and the plains of 
 Bethlehem were suddenly irradiated by cohorts of 
 celestial beings ; strains of ethereal melody coming 
 down the eastern night-sky from innumerous harps 
 and lyres of the heavenly host, extolling the glory 
 of God, and the era of "peace on earth, goodwill 
 toward men."* In the parable of the Prodigal Son 
 his return to the parental roof is celebrated with 
 music, dance, and banquet. We hear Paul and 
 Silas sing midnight praise to their risen Lord in the 
 Philippian dungeon, and feel the tremor of its 
 foundations as the feet of God pass in sudden 
 earthquake ; and in the sublime, dread drama of 
 the Apocalypse, we hear thunders and voices, angel- 
 trumpets sounding the onset of dire woes and awful 
 judgments ; the doxology of the redeemed, and the 
 cadences of harpers on the " sea of glass, like unto 
 crystal.'" The consummation of the work of 
 creation was celebrated by choral songs and shouts 
 of rapture from the angelic throng, and the trumpet 
 of the archangel will sound the death knell of the 
 world and summon the dead to judgment ! Apart 
 from the authority and injunction of Holy Writ, is 
 there provision made in the constitution of the 
 human mind and the qualities of certain materials 
 in the organic and inorganic kingdom of nature for 
 the gratification of the musical faculty, and, through 
 
 * Luke, chap, ii., verse 14. * Revelation, chap, iv., verse 6.
 
 56 
 
 this medium, for adorning the goodness of the 
 Creator? Yes ! God has endowed man with the 
 faculties of Melody and Time, and powers which 
 enable him to construct musical instruments out of 
 these materials, and utilise the qualities of the air he 
 breathes in the production of harmonious sounds; 
 all which inventions should be gratefully employed 
 in His service and to His glory. Washington Irving 
 in " Sunday in the Country and in London," in his 
 own exquisite literary style, testifies to the elevating 
 and sanctifying influence exerted on his mind by 
 music from the organ and choir of an adjoining 
 church, rolling and trembling through the deserted 
 courts and alleys of the city, and flooding them with 
 melody ; " poured forth like a river of joy through 
 the inmost recesses of the great metropolis, eleva- 
 ting it, as it were, from all the sordid pollutions of 
 the week, and bearing the poor world-worn soul on 
 a tide of triumphant harmony to heaven." A 
 voluntary on the organ introductory to the offices 
 of the church, throbbing, trembling, swelling, 
 languishing, dissolving, dying ; extemporised if pos- 
 sible by the organist, executed in the spirit of rever- 
 ence, not to display, as sometimes happens, his or 
 her power over the instrument, and gratify indi- 
 vidual vanity, and more like a Grand March 
 mustering troops or inaugurating an assembly, pre- 
 pares the mind for worship, for the transmission of 
 the Divine Spirit, calling in wandering thoughts, 
 shutting out the things of time and sense, spreading 
 a holy calm over the soul and wafting it to the very 
 portals of the Heavenly Temple ! Vocal and in- 
 strumental music, a selection of psalms, hymns,
 
 57 
 
 chants, Scripture sentences, adoring the perfections 
 of Deity, celebrating the glory of the Redeemer, 
 setting forth the relations of the Eternal 
 Father to the human family, promoting congrega- 
 tional concord of feeling and unity of sentiment 
 and aspiration ; with short sermons and devotional 
 exercises, form, in our opinion, the model of a 
 public religious service. When the former evoke 
 the truths and sentiments contained in the subject- 
 matter of praise, and are performed in a manner 
 in harmony with its character majestic, solemn, 
 pathetic, cheerful, as the case may be above all, 
 when the lips of those engaged have been touched 
 with " a live coal . . . from off the altar,"' 
 and pastor and people join in the service in the 
 true spirit of devotion; religious duty becomes a 
 pleasure, worldly cares are banished for the time 
 being; distracting thoughts, suggested even to the 
 most devout, and those best practised in holy dis- 
 cipline, by wandering looks on the congregation or 
 the surpliced choir, the mannerism of the minister, 
 the pictured window, the carved gilt-work on the 
 pulpit, or front of the gallery supported by marble 
 pillars, with chapiters cinctured with sculptured 
 leaves; the exquisite design and beautiful workman- 
 ship of the bronze lectern ; the spaces on the vault 
 of the edifice painted sky-blue, with here and there 
 a golden star; find not a resting place in their 
 minds; dignity and solemnity invest the service, the 
 momentous truths of our holy religion are pre- 
 sented in a majestic and impressive aspect, the 
 affections are ennobled, and the powers of the soul 
 
 * Isaiah, chap, vi., verse 6.
 
 58 
 
 fanned into fervour, especially the passion of love, 
 always reigning in the bosoms of the holy; and 
 directed to God as the sole object of devotion. 
 The music of the heavenly state in conjunction with 
 the delightful immersion of the repentant spirit 
 (which, although forgiven, remembers the sins of 
 the past with feelings of reproach and humiliation) 
 into the virtue-restoring, and, as regards the recol- 
 lection of pure thoughts and beneficent deeds, 
 memory-quickening waters of the river Eunse, and 
 the waters of Lethe, obliterating the remembrance 
 of evil thoughts and actions, both issuing from the 
 fountain of the grace of God, may constitute the 
 " sweet oblivious antidote "* to the bane of the 
 bitter memories of evil which would mar the soul's 
 enjoyment of the ineffable bliss of Paradise. The 
 deliverance of a soul from the internment and dis- 
 cipline of Dante's " Purgatorio " is acclaimed by a 
 stupendous shout and a volume of rejoiceful 
 heavenly minstrelsy, " Glory to God in the 
 highest." John Bunyan, in his inimitable allegory, 
 * The Pilgrim's Progress," represents Christian and 
 Hopeful, after passing through the River of Death 
 jn which they left their mortal habiliments, as 
 escorted by two shining men, who waited for them 
 on the bank, and by their aid were enabled to 
 ascend with ease and celerity the mountain upon 
 which was built the Golden City; the foundation 
 of which was higher than the clouds. On their way 
 to the gates of pearl, a multitude of the inhabitants 
 and a band of the King's trumpeters came out to 
 meet them, compassing them and attending them 
 
 * Shakespeare.
 
 59 
 
 up to the gates ; whose melodious notes and anthems 
 causing the very heavens to echo, and mingled with 
 radiant looks and gestures of endearment, evinced 
 the genuineness of the welcome accorded, and the 
 pleasure of receiving them among their number; 
 " so that the very sight was to them that could 
 behold it as if heaven itself was come down to meet 
 them." On entering, they were transfigured, 
 clothed in raiment that dazzled like gold, and 
 provided with harps and crowns. Then the bells 
 of the City chimed, and the glorious welcome ex- 
 tended " Enter ye into the joy of your Lord."' 
 Supernal manifestations of joy, pageantry trans- 
 cending the power of imagination to picture, and 
 the eloquence of tongue to describe, await all 
 Christians at the end. // Christ be with us, then 
 when Death comes and lays upon us his cold icy 
 hands, when the world recedes from our failing 
 vision, and relations and friends are left in the 
 darkness, when the shadows of Death gather round 
 our pillow, and cast his dun pall over our sunken 
 eyes and marbled forehead, when the last moment 
 of existence arrives and Eternity opens to our view, 
 with the " Dying Christian to his Soul " we will 
 join in the psean : 
 
 ' The world recedes, it disappears ! 
 Heaven opens on my eyes ! My ears 
 With sounds seraphic ring ! 
 Lend, lend your wings ! I mount ! I fly ! 
 O, Grave ! where is thy victory? 
 O, Death ! where is thy sting?"* 
 
 chariots of fire with horses of fire will convey us to 
 
 * Matthew, chap, xxv., verse 21. * Pope.
 
 60 
 
 Heaven, and our entrance into the mansions of bliss 
 will be greeted with the hallelujahs of angels, the 
 rapturous thrill of seraphic minstrelsy, the roll of 
 Heaven's orchestra. Assuming the immortality of 
 everything pure and good, Music will survive " the 
 war of elements, the wreck of matter, and the crash 
 of worlds." It will form part of the worship of 
 perfected human spirits, of the redeemed in the 
 heavenly inheritance. Assembled round the 
 throne of the Majesty on High, the white-robed 
 throng, victors over death, no pangs of sorrow 
 striking to their hearts, no tears suffusing their eyes, 
 with crowns on their heads, palms in their hands, 
 and silver trumpets and lyres of gold suspended 
 from their girdles, will celebrate the praises of Him 
 whom they love, of the Lamb of God who died for 
 them, washed them from sin in the crimson foun- 
 tain, and presented them faultless before the Divine 
 Presence with exceeding joy; in 
 
 ' That undisturbed song of pure concent, 
 Aye sung before the sapphire-coloured throne 
 To Him that sits thereon, 
 With saintly shout and solemn jubilee, 
 Where the bright seraphim in burning row. 
 Their loud uplifted angel-trumpets blow 
 And the cherubic host in thousand choirs 
 Touch their immortal harps of golden wires. 
 
 Oh, may we soon again renew that song, 
 
 And keep in tune with Heaven, till God ere long 
 
 To His celestial consort us unite, 
 
 To live with Him, and sing in endless morn of 
 
 light!"* *Addison. * Milton.
 
 61 
 
 APPENDIX No. L 
 
 APOTHEOSIS OF MUSIC. 
 
 Truth is the golden chain which links the terres- 
 trial with the celestial, which sets the seal of 
 Heaven on the things of this earth, and stamps 
 them to immortality. . . . When the Grecian 
 sculptor carved out his deities in marble, and left 
 his wondrous and god-like shapes, impersonations 
 of ideal grace unapproachable by modern skill, 
 . . . . it was the spirit of faith within which 
 shadowed to his imagination what he would repre- 
 sent. 
 
 ANNA JAMESON, from The Loves of the Poets. 
 
 Orpheus with his lute made trees 
 And the mountain-tops that freeze 
 
 Bow themselves when he did sing; 
 To his music, plants and flowers 
 Ever sprung; as sun and showers, 
 
 There had made a lasting spring. 
 
 Everything that heard him play, 
 Even the billows of the sea, 
 
 Hung their heads, and then lay by. 
 In sweet music is such art : 
 Killing care and grief of heart 
 
 Fall asleep, or, hearing, die. 
 
 SHAKESPEARE, from Henry VIII.
 
 62 
 
 When seven lang years had come and fled, 
 When grief was calm and hope was dead, 
 When scarce was remembered Kilmeny's name, 
 Late, late, in a gloamin' Kilmeny came hame ! (at 
 
 dusk) 
 
 And, oh, her beauty was fair to see, 
 But still and stedfast was her e'e ; 
 Such beauty bard may never declare, 
 For there was no pride nor passion there ; 
 And the soft desire of maiden's e'en 
 In that mild face could never be seen. 
 Her seymar was the lily flower, (cymar, smock) 
 And her cheek the moss-rose in the shower ; 
 And her voice like the distant melodye 
 That floats along the twilight sea. 
 But she loved to raike the lanely glen, (wander 
 
 through), 
 
 And keeped afar frae the haunts of men, 
 Her holy hymns unheard to sing, 
 To suck the flowers and drink the spring ; 
 But whenever her peaceful form appeared 
 The wild beasts of the hill were cheered ; 
 The wolf played blithely round the field, 
 The lordly bison lowed and kneeled, 
 The dun deer wooed with manner bland, 
 And cowered aneath her lily hand. 
 And when at eve the woodlands rung, 
 When hymns of other worlds she sung, 
 In ecstasy of sweet devotion, 
 Oh, then the glen was all in motion : 
 The wild beasts of the forest came, 
 Broke from their bughts and faulds the tame, (pens 
 
 and folds)
 
 63 
 
 And goved around, charmed and amazed ; 
 
 (gathered) 
 
 Even the dull cattle crooned and gazed, 
 And murmured, and looked with anxious pain 
 For something the mystery to explain. 
 The buzzard came with the throstle-cock, 
 The corby left her houf in the rock ; (raven ; haunt) 
 The blackbird alang wi' the eagle flew ; 
 The hind came tripping o'er the dew; 
 The wolf and the kid their raike began ; 
 And the tod, and the lamb, and the leveret ran; 
 
 (fox) 
 The hawk and the heron attour them hung; (heron ; 
 
 above) 
 And the merl and the mavis forhooyed their young; 
 
 (forsook) 
 
 And all in a peaceful ring were hurled : (drawn) 
 It was like an eve in a sinless world ! 
 
 JAMES HOGG, from The Queen's Wake. 
 
 The supreme potency, the universal, multifarious, 
 irresistible, indefinable effects of music have been 
 so felt in all ages and countries, that the sculptors 
 and painters, ancient and modern, in the highest 
 conceptions of human genius, have glorified the art 
 with deification ; and the poets, in their futile 
 attempts to give these commensurate expression in 
 the sublimest effusions of song, have represented 
 heaven, earth, air, sea, even the spirit-world, as 
 spellbound by its magic chain, as subject to its con- 
 trolling and transforming power, as endowed with 
 intelligence and responding to its persuasive num- 
 bers. It produces a hush of expectancy throughout
 
 64 
 
 creation, a silence as profound as that described by 
 the poet Pollok, which " all being held," when the 
 rebel angels were hurled from Heaven into the 
 molten lake ! 
 
 " So still that all creation heard their fall 
 Distinctly in the lake of burning fire." 
 
 The golden chariot of Phoebus, and the silver car of 
 Cynthia stand on the gemmed causeway of the 
 Galaxy; the stars listen, the fierce comet is reined 
 in, and brought to halt, like a fiery courser under 
 bit and bridle; the clouds dissolve and leave the 
 sky a liquid blue; the mist, o'erhanging the plain 
 and enrobing the hill, melts away, unfolding a 
 panorama of sky and mountain, wood, and water- 
 fall, lake, stream, green field, and castellated man- 
 sion ; the sea falls asleep, the river is arrested in its 
 course, the balm-laden zephyr folds its wings, not 
 a leaf stirs in the forest, birds of passage are de- 
 tained in their flight to southern climes, the wolf's 
 howl is hushed, the raging lion retreats, and winks 
 and nods in the thicket, the tiger forgets to spring 
 upon his prey, the serpent is hypnotised to harm- 
 lessness, the raven leaves the eyes of the lamb half- 
 picked out, the bald, repulsive vultures stop feast- 
 ing on the carcase of the camel on the burning 
 sands of the desert, the dreary, boundless wilder- 
 ness, with its hot sand, sulphury sirocco, coppery 
 sky and broiling sun overhead, is transformed into 
 a rural elysium ; cities and palaces rise on waste, 
 deserted lands, the rocks melt, the mountains make 
 obeisance, the trees dance and clap their hands for 
 joy, the birds come down from the boughs and
 
 65 
 
 their perches in the bushes and gather round the 
 minstrel ; the comb of pearl rests in the half-dressed 
 flaxen tresses of the mermaid, the very dead come 
 up through the blue sea to hear, the fair maiden is 
 drawn to the knee of the Scald or the Minnesinger, 
 demons slink away and huddle in their dens, 
 the gods honour poor mortals with their presence, 
 participating in their pleasures, dispensing their 
 favours, and bestowing their benisons; and, re- 
 sponding to " Cecilia's mingled world of sound,"* 
 angels descend stairways of light between heaven 
 and earth ; the sheen of their star-studded pinions 
 illuming the sky and irradiating the mountains, 
 communing with sinful man in this vale of tears, 
 transforming earth into primeval Eden ; walking 
 by her streams and tarrying in her groves ! Jason's 
 magnificent galley, the " Argo," defying the united 
 strength of her builders and crew to launch her into 
 the shining water, yields to the enticing strains of 
 the voice and lyre of Orpheus; and glides grace- 
 fully from the tressels into the sparkling element, 
 in which plunges her exquisitely carved oaken 
 figurehead of the goddess Minerva, that baptises 
 with silvery spray her complement of fifty Grecian 
 heroes with burnished helmets, shields, and swords, 
 and upward-pointing oars, as buoyant as beautiful 
 light-footed Atalanta walking on the foaming waves. 
 His lively notes incited the warriors to deeds of 
 valour and renown in overcoming the dangers and 
 obstacles, and quelling the enemies of the expedi- 
 tion in quest of the Golden Fleece; and, when at 
 length, Prince Jason the horrific, insatiable, sleep- 
 
 * Collins.
 
 66 
 
 less dragon that guarded the glistering treasure 
 where it was suspended succumbing to the 
 anaesthetic potion of Mcedea, and lying full- 
 stretched and passive on the sward unhung the 
 precious trophy from the tree, hurried through the 
 grove of Colchis, and bounded aboard the royal 
 barge (the sheen from his golden shoulder-mantle 
 illuming the faces of his trusty companions), a shout 
 arose of " Victory and Immortal Fame;" and, on 
 the voyage home, the " Argo " seemed to skip, 
 and dance, and bound, and fly, to measures of 
 triumph from the orpharion of the musician. 
 Milton's chaste, gentle Sabrina, goddess of the 
 argent streams, protectress of virtue, friend of bloom- 
 ing virginity, " if she be right invoked by warbled 
 song," will quickly ascend from her coral chamber, 
 in her chariot, tinted agate, turquoise-green, and 
 lapis-lazuli, with precious balms, oils, and liquors 
 to dissolve the frozen current in the veins, and thrill 
 the numb-cold nerves of Lady Chastity ; to liberate 
 and reanimate, and refortify her with heavenly 
 strength ; petrified by the vile sorcerer Comus on 
 the marble throne of his palace. Browning's 
 ' Pied Piper of Hamelin " can convert his reed 
 into an instrument of beneficence or fiendish 
 revenge ; dissipating for the Cham inTartary clusters 
 of pestilent, phlebotomic gnats, exorcising for the 
 Nizam in Asia infernal clutchings of vampire-bats 
 that sucked the blood in sleep of man and beast, 
 decoying from the town a predatory army of rats 
 to death by drowning in the river Weser, or tra- 
 panning
 
 67 
 
 " All the little boys and girls, 
 With rosy cheeks and flaxen curls, 
 And sparkling eyes and teeth like pearls," 
 
 into eternal incarceration in the Cimmerian cavern 
 of the Koppleberg Hill. We have endeavoured to 
 embody the preceding conception in the following 
 pastoral rhapsody. Upon a daisy-spangled knoll 
 sat Madeline, " in shape and feature Beauty's 
 Queen,"* the bloom of seventeen summers mant- 
 ling o'er her cheeks. A harp, festooned with 
 flowers, lay by her side. No straggling cloudlet 
 marred the azure sky. Heaven shed its hyaline 
 lustre full upon her. A velvet head-dress, bordered 
 with filigree of silver thread, and with a star in fret- 
 work on the crown, decked her head, and glinted 
 like a tiara in the sun. The scented zephyr wan- 
 toned with her russet hair that flowed in mellow 
 richness down. Above her orbits' well-defined and 
 graceful curves, o'erarched by auburn eyebrows, 
 her marble forehead smiled. Beneath the brown- 
 fringed lids, large hazel eyes beamed pensive, but 
 not sad. Whene'er she smiled, between her lips 
 so rubicund gleamed her teeth, two rows of pearls 
 fitly set. Carcanet of daisies with pendant of blue- 
 bells circled her neck of perfect mould, and white 
 as snow. The blue veins traced their courses o'er 
 her milk-white heaving breast, 
 
 ' With smooth transparent skin, 
 Refined as with intent to show 
 The holiness within."* 
 
 Her silk dress glistened in the sun ; her hands, so 
 
 * Unknown. * Wordsworth.
 
 68 
 
 soft and white, with finger-nails of pearly hue, 
 enclasped, lay in her lap and nestled among the 
 glossy folds. Fixed in its breast a rosette of red 
 rowans blushed. Beneath its costly broidered skirt 
 there shone the polished leather and the silver 
 buckles of her shoes, that Cinderella might have 
 worn. A nodding bluebell bore the butterfly that 
 oped and shut its gaudy wings ecstatic in the sun. 
 With rapturous hum the bees flew by, to rob the 
 wild flowers' honey cups. In yonder dell the black- 
 bird poured his amorous strains. She took the harp 
 into her hand, and gently raised her eyes to heaven. 
 Her nimble fingers swept the chords, and dulcet 
 sounds awoke. All nature felt the glamour of 
 her lay. The blackbird on the bough suspent love- 
 notes and listened, bright and upturned his eye. 
 The ringdove ceased her amorous cooing o'er her 
 young ones in the nest on the dark fir tree of the 
 wood. Serrate crek-crake, crek-crake, crek-crake 
 of the swift-footed, timid landrail in the adjacent 
 ryegrass plot, abloom with globose clover tops, no 
 longer sawed the ear. Bees cradled in the nectaries. 
 The butterfly flew to her breast. The timid leveret 
 in its snug among the tufted grass, pricked up its 
 ears, and reared its paws, and sat to hear. The 
 hawk, down from the feathers sticking on his curved 
 and gory bill, breast spattered with warm blood, and 
 victim under foot, stopped butchering his prey, and 
 with quick glancing eyes looked to where the charm 
 took rise. The cattle left the luscious grass, 
 assembled round the knoll, and stood, gazing with 
 large and kindly eyes. The speckled trout leapt 
 in the limpid pool as fain to leave the element.
 
 69 
 
 The sparkling runnel's liquid tinkling ceased. The 
 wind drooped its balmy wings, to list the music 
 sweeter than its own, 
 " Lightly touch'd by fairy fingers, hark ! the lyre 
 
 enchants the wind, 
 Now the music mounts on high, sweetly swelling 
 
 through the sky, 
 Now the strains to silence stealing, soft in ecstasies 
 
 expire."* 
 
 A simultaneous quivering of the forest leaves was 
 seen, as if, responding to the magic call, the Breath 
 from the Four Winds came and breathed upon the 
 leaves that they might live. Honeysuckle, meadow 
 queen, and hawthorn bloom ; the iris by the stream, 
 the bluebell and the buttercup, looked glad and 
 radiant, as if imbued with new vivific essence, or a 
 soul expanding to the melody. Tip-tinted petals 
 of the daisies closed like fringed lids o'er their eyes 
 of gold. Her heart beat fast, her bosom heaved, 
 her face grew pale, and then her cheeks turned red 
 again. She stirred the emotions of her soul. Her 
 spirit communed with the skies. A vision of the 
 Land of Beulah opened on her ravished sight ! She 
 saw its verdant, broad champaign, watered by 
 streams, flowing from an unfailing fount among the 
 hills of Amaranth that formed a battlement all 
 round. The serene empyrean overhead. Angels 
 in ermine stoles, with folded wings, ready to strike 
 their harps or wave their palms; their forms re- 
 flected in the mirrors of pellucid streams ; or, ex- 
 tending golden pinions to celestial airs, borne 
 
 * Thomson.
 
 70 
 
 serenely o'er the verdant plain. Castles of the Blest 
 among the hills. Seraphim going in and coming 
 out, with quick, light steps ascending the green 
 slopes, and standing on the mountain-tops, their 
 wings outspread, and faces radiant with the light of 
 Heaven. Grottoes and bowers of roses, fragrant 
 groves, perennial flowers and fruits, and trees on 
 which the hierarchy suspended lyres and glittering 
 crowns, and from their clusters drained immortal 
 draughts. Rainbows arching the eternal hills, their 
 hues reflected on the spray of fountains, gleaming 
 in celestial sheen, and on the burnished helmets, 
 habergeons, shields, and greaves of iridescent 
 cherubim. Balmy airs bore on their wings the 
 quintessence of melody. She rose and lightly 
 passed away, the grass and flowers scarce yielding 
 'neath her feet. The place seemed consecrated 
 ground ! 
 
 We annex to this Treatise selections from Holy 
 Scripture and from the poets and literati, with the 
 view of directing attention to special portions of 
 the inspired volume in which reference is made to 
 Music; making known the opinions of men of 
 genius concerning the Divine Art; and illustrating 
 and confirming as far as possible by this system the 
 train of thought running through the treatise. If 
 there are any ideas, words, or phrases in the 
 Treatise verging on identity with those in the 
 extracts, the only explanation occurring to the mind 
 of the author is that of literary coincidence; and he 
 feels assured that he will be entirely exonerated
 
 71 
 
 from the suspicion of plagiarism by pledging his 
 word of honour that the appendix was prepared 
 after completion of the Treatise. The entire verbal 
 accuracy of every quotation is not guaranteed. 
 
 APPENDIX No. II. 
 SELECTIONS FROM THE OLD TESTAMENT 
 
 And David made him houses in the city of David, 
 and prepared a place for the ark of God, and 
 pitched for it a tent. Then David said, None ought 
 to carry the ark of God but the Levites; for them 
 hath the Lord chosen to carry the ark of God and 
 minister unto him for ever. . . . And David 
 spake to the chief of the Levites to appoint their 
 brethren to be the singers, with instruments of 
 musick, psalteries, and harps and cymbals, sound- 
 ing, by lifting up the voice with joy. So the 
 Levites appointed Heman, the son of Joel ; and of 
 his brethren, Asaph, the son of Berechiah, and of 
 the sons of Merari, their brethren, Ethan, the son 
 of Kushaiah. And with them their brethren of the 
 second degree. . . . And Chenaniah, chief of 
 the Levites, was for song; he instructed about the 
 song because he was skilful. 1st Chronicles, chap. 
 15, verses 1-2, 16-22. 
 
 And when he (Jehoshaphat) had consulted with 
 the people, he appointed singers unto the Lord, and 
 that should praise the beauty of holiness as they
 
 72 
 
 went out before the army, and to say, Praise the 
 Lord, for his mercy endureth for ever. 2nd 
 Chronicles, chap, xx., verse 21. 
 
 " And four thousand praised the Lord with the 
 instruments which I made, said David, to praise 
 herewith." 1st Chronicles, chap, xxiii., verse 5. 
 
 Now, when Athaliah heard the noise of the people 
 running, and praising the King, she came to the 
 people into the house of the Lord. And she 
 looked, and behold the King (Joash) stood at his 
 pillar at the entering in, and the princes and the 
 trumpets by the King ; and all the people of the 
 land rejoiced, and sounded with trumpets, also the 
 singers with instruments of musick and such as 
 taught to sing praise. Then Athaliah rent her 
 clothes and said, Treason, treason. 2nd Chronicles, 
 chap, xxiii., verses 12-13. 
 
 And Hezekiah commanded to offer the burnt 
 offering upon the altar. And when the burnt 
 offering began, the song of the Lord began, also 
 with the trumpets and with the instruments 
 ordained by David, King of Israel. And all the 
 congregation worshipped, and the singers sang, and 
 the trumpeters sounded; and all this continued 
 until the burnt offering was finished. 2nd 
 Chronicles, chap, xxix., verses 27-28. 
 
 And when the builders laid the foundation of the 
 temple of the Lord they set the priests in their 
 apparel with trumpets, and the Levites, the sons 
 of Asaph, with cymbals, to praise the Lord after 
 the ordinance of David, King of Israel. And they
 
 73 
 
 sung together by course in praising and giving 
 thanks unto the Lord ; because He is good, for His 
 mercy endureth for ever toward Israel. And all 
 the people shouted with a great shout when they 
 praised the Lord, because the foundation of the 
 house of the Lord was laid. But many of the 
 priests and Levites, and chief of the fathers, who 
 were ancient men, that had seen the first house, 
 when the foundation of this house was laid before 
 their eyes, wept with a loud voice; and many 
 shouted aloud for joy. So that the people could 
 not discern the noise of the shout of joy from the 
 noise of the weeping of the people ; for the people 
 shouted with a loud shout and the noise was heard 
 afar off. Ezra, chap, iii., verses 10-13. 
 
 And at the dedication of the wall of Jerusalem 
 they sought the Levites out of all their places to 
 bring them to Jerusalem to keep the dedication 
 with gladness, both with thanksgiving and with 
 singing, with cymbals, psalteries, and with harps. 
 Nehemiah, chap, xii., verse 27. 
 
 They take the timbrel and harp, and rejoice at 
 the sound of the organ. Job, chap, xxi., verse 12. 
 
 I caused the widow's heart to sing for joy. Job, 
 chap, xxix., verse 13. 
 
 My harp also is turned to mourning, and my 
 organ into the voice of them that weep. Job, 
 chap xxx., verse 31. 
 
 But none saith, Where is God, my maker, who 
 giveth songs in the night? Job, chap, xxxv., 
 verse 10.
 
 74 
 
 At this also my heart trembleth, and is moved 
 out of his place. Hear attentively the noise of his 
 voice and the sound that goeth out of his mouth. 
 He directeth it under the whole heaven and his 
 lightning unto the ends of the earth. After it a 
 voice roareth ; he thundereth with the voice of his 
 excellency; and he will not stay them when his 
 voice is heard. God thundereth marvellously with 
 his voice. Job, chap, xxxvii., verses 1-5. 
 
 When the morning stars sang together and all the 
 sons of God shouted for joy. Job, chap, xxxviii., 
 verse 7. 
 
 Rejoice in the Lord, O ye righteous; for praise 
 is comely for the upright. Praise the Lord with 
 harp; sing unto Him with the psaltery and an in- 
 strument of ten strings. Sing unto Him a new song, 
 play skilfully with a loud noise. For the word of 
 the Lord is right; and all his works are done in 
 truth. He loveth righteousness and judgment; the 
 earth is full of the goodness of the Lord. Psalm 
 xxxiii., verses 1-5. 
 
 O send out thy light and thy truth ; let them lead 
 me, let them bring me unto thy holy hill and to 
 thy tabernacles. Then will I go unto the altar of 
 God, unto God, my exceeding joy ; yea, upon the 
 harp will I praise thee, O God, my God. Psalm 
 xliii., verses 3-4. 
 
 God is gone up with a shout, the Lord with the 
 sound of a trumpet. Sing praises to God, sing 
 praises; sing praises unto our King, sing praises. 
 Psalm, xlvii., verses 5-6.
 
 75 
 
 My heart is fixed, O God, my heart is fixed; I 
 will sing and give praise. Awake up my glory; 
 awake psaltery and harp ; I myself will awake early. 
 I will praise thee, O Lord, among the people; I 
 will sing unto thee among the nations. For thy 
 mercy is great unto the heavens, and thy truth 
 unto the clouds. Be thou exalted, O God, above 
 the heavens; let thy glory be above all the earth. 
 Psalm Ivii., verses 7-11. 
 
 The singers went before, the players on instru- 
 ments followed after, among them were the damsels 
 playing with timbrels. Psalm Ixviii., verse 25. 
 
 I will also praise thee with the psaltery, even 
 thy truth, O my God; unto thee will I sing with 
 the harp, O thou Holy One of Israel. My lips 
 shall greatly rejoice when I sing unto thee, and 
 my soul which thou hast redeemed. Psalm Ixxi., 
 verses 22-23. 
 
 Sing aloud unto God our strength ; make a joyful 
 noise unto the God of Jacob. Take a psalm, and 
 bring hither the timbrel, the pleasant harp, with the 
 psaltery. Blow up the trumpet in the new moon, 
 in the time appointed on our solemn feast day. 
 For this was a statute for Israel, and a law of the 
 God of Jacob. Psalm Ixxxi., verses 1-4. 
 
 It is a good thing to give thanks unto the Lord 
 and to sing praises unto thy name, O most High. 
 To shew forth thy lovingkindness in the morning, 
 and thy faithfulness every night. Upon an instru- 
 ment of ten strings and upon the psaltery; upon 
 the harp, with a solemn sound. For thou, Lord,
 
 76 
 
 hast made me glad through thy work : I will 
 triumph in the works of thy hands. Psalm xcii., 
 verses 1-4. 
 
 O, come let us sing unto the Lord; let us make 
 a joyful noise to the rock of our salvation. Let us 
 come before his presence with thanksgiving, and 
 make a joyful noise unto him with psalms. For 
 the Lord is a great God, and a great King above all 
 gods. In his hand are the deep places of the earth, 
 the strength of the hills is his also. The sea is his 
 and he made it, and his hands formed the dry 
 land. Psalm xcv., verses 1-5. 
 
 Make a joyful noise unto the Lord, all the earth ; 
 make a loud noise, and rejoice and sing praise. 
 Sing unto the Lord with the harp, with the harp 
 and the voice of a psalm. With trumpets and 
 sound of cornet make a joyful noise before the 
 Lord the King. Let the sea roar and the fulness 
 thereof, the world and they that dwell therein. 
 Let the floods clap their hands, let the hills be joy- 
 ful together. Before the Lord, for he cometh to 
 judge the earth ; with righteousness shall he judge 
 the world, and the people with equity. Psalm 
 xcviii., verses 4-9. 
 
 By the rivers of Babylon there we sat down ; yea, 
 we wept, when we remembered Zion : We hanged 
 our harps upon the willows in the midst thereof. 
 For there they that carried us away captive re- 
 quired of us a song; and they that wasted us 
 required of us mirth, saying, Sing us one of the 
 songs of Zion. How shall we sing the Lord's song
 
 77 
 
 in a strange land? If I forget thee, O Jerusalem, 
 let my right hand forget her cunning. Psalm 
 cxxxvii., verses 1-5. 
 
 Praise ye the Lord. Sing unto the Lord a new 
 song, and his praise in the congregation of the 
 saints. Let Israel rejoice in him that made him ; 
 let the children of Zion be joyful in their King. 
 Let them praise his name in the dance; let them 
 sing praises unto him with the timbrel and harp. 
 For the Lord taketh pleasure in his people ; he will 
 beautify the meek with salvation. Let the saints 
 be joyful in glory; let them sing aloud upon their 
 beds. Psalm cxlix, verses 1-5. 
 
 Praise ye the Lord. Praise God in his sanctuary ; 
 praise him in the firmament of his power. Praise 
 him for his mighty acts ; praise him according to 
 his excellent greatness. Praise him with the sound 
 of the trumpet; praise him with the psaltery and 
 harp. Praise him with the timbrel and dance; 
 praise him with stringed instruments and organs. 
 Praise him upon the loud cymbals ; praise him upon 
 the high-sounding cymbals. Let everything that 
 hath breath praise the Lord. Praise ye the Lord. 
 Psalm cl. 
 
 I gat me men singers and women singers, and 
 the delights of the sons of men as musical instru- 
 ments, and that of all sorts. Ecclesiastes, chap, ii., 
 verse 8. 
 
 And he shall rise up at the voice of the bird, and 
 all the daughters of musick shall be brought low. 
 Ecclesiastes, chap xii., verse 4.
 
 78 
 
 The song of songs which is Solomon's. The 
 Song of Solomon, chap, i., verse 1. 
 
 The time of the singing of birds is come, and the 
 voice of the turtle is heard in our land. The Song 
 of Solomon, chap ii., verse 12. 
 
 Now will I sing to my well beloved a song of my 
 beloved, touching his vineyard. Isaiah, chap v., 
 verse 1. 
 
 And the harp and the viol, the tabret and pipe, 
 and wine are in their feasts, but they regard not 
 the work of the Lord, neither consider the opera- 
 tion of his hands. Isaiah, chap v., verse 12. 
 
 And one cried unto another, and said, Holy, 
 holy, holy, is the Lord of Hosts ; the whole earth 
 is full of his glory. Isaiah, chap, vi., verse 3. 
 
 And gladness is taken away, and joy out of the 
 plentiful field; and in the vineyards there shall be 
 no singing, neither shall there be shouting. Where- 
 fore my bowels shall sound like an harp for Moab, 
 and my inward parts for Kir-haresh. Isaiah, chap, 
 xvi., verses 10-11. 
 
 Take an harp, go about the city, 
 
 that hast been forgotten ; make sweet melody, sing 
 many songs, that thou mayest be remembered. 
 Isaiah, chap, xxiii., verse 16. 
 
 The mirth of tabrets ceaseth, the noise of them 
 that rejoice endeth, the joy of the harp ceaseth. 
 They shall not drink wine with a song. . . . 
 They shall lift up their voice, they shall sing for the 
 majesty of the Lord, they shall cry aloud from the 
 sea. Isaiah, chap, xxiv., verses 8, 9, 14.
 
 79 
 
 Ye shall have a song as in the night when a holy 
 solemnity is kept; and gladness of heart as when 
 one goeth with a pipe to come into the mountain 
 of the Lord, to the mighty One of Israel. Isaiah, 
 chap, xxx., verse 29. 
 
 The wilderness and the solitary place shall be 
 glad for them, and the desert shall rejoice and 
 blossom as the rose. It shall blossom abundantly, 
 and rejoice even with joy and singing- . . . and 
 the tongue of the dumb sing. . . . And the 
 ransomed of the Lord shall return and come to 
 Zion with songs and everlasting joy upon their 
 heads ; they shall obtain joy and gladness, and 
 sorrow and sighing shall flee away. Isaiah, chap, 
 xxxv., verses 1-2, 6, 10. 
 
 Sing unto the Lord a new song, and his praise 
 from the end of the earth, ye that go down to the 
 sea, and all that is therein, the isles and the inhabi- 
 tants thereof. Let the wilderness and the cities 
 thereof lift up their voice, the villages that Kedar 
 doth inhabit ; let the inhabitants of the rock sing, 
 let them shout from the top of the mountains. 
 Let them give glory unto the Lord, and declare his 
 praise in the islands. Isaiah, chap, xlii., verses 
 10-11-12. 
 
 Sing, O ye heavens; for the Lord hath done it; 
 shout, ye lower parts of the earth ; break forth into 
 singing, ye mountains ; O forest and every tree 
 therein ; for the Lord hath redeemed Jacob and 
 glorified himself in Israel. Isaiah, chap, xliv., 
 verse 23.
 
 80 
 
 For the Lord shall comfort Zion ; he will comfort 
 all her waste places; and he will make her wilder- 
 ness like Eden, and her desert like the garden of 
 the Lord; joy and gladness shall be found therein; 
 thanksgiving and the voice of melody. Isaiah, 
 chap, li., verse 3. 
 
 Break forth into joy, sing together, ye waste 
 places of Jerusalem ; for the Lord hath comforted 
 his people; he hath redeemed Jerusalem. Isaiah, 
 chap. Hi., verse 9. 
 
 For ye shall go out with joy and be led forth 
 with peace, the mountains and the hills shall break 
 forth before you into singing, and all the trees of 
 the field shall clap their hands. Isaiah, chap. lv., 
 verse 12. 
 
 And I will cause the noise of thy songs to cease ; 
 and the sound of thy harps shall be no more heard. 
 Ezekiel, chap, xxvi., verse 13. 
 
 And, lo, thou art unto them as a very lovely 
 song of one that hath a pleasant voice, and can play 
 well on an instrument. Ezekiel, chap, xxxiii., 
 verse 32. 
 
 Therefore at that time, when all the people heard 
 the sound of the cornet, flute, harp, sackbut, 
 psaltery, and all kinds of musick, all the people, 
 the nations, and the languages fell down and wor- 
 shipped the golden image that Nebuchadnezzar the 
 King had set up. Daniel, chap iii., verse 7. 
 
 Take thou away from me the noise of thy songs ; 
 for I will not hear the melody of thy viols. Amos, 
 chap, v., verse 23.
 
 81 
 
 That chant to the sound of the viol, and invent 
 to themselves instruments of musick like David. 
 Amos, chap, vi., verse 5. 
 
 To the chief singer on my stringed instruments. 
 Habakkuk, chap, iii., verse 19. 
 
 Sing, O daughter of Zion; shout, O Israel; 
 be glad and rejoice with all the heart, O daughter 
 of Jerusalem. Zephaniah, chap, iii., verse 14. 
 
 . . . . he will joy over thee with singing. 
 Zephaniah, chap, iii., verse 17. 
 
 Sing and rejoice, O daughter of Zion ; for, lo, I 
 come, and I will dwell in the midst of thee, saith 
 the Lord. Zechariah, chap ii., verse 10. 
 
 SELECTIONS FROM THE NEW 
 TESTAMENT. 
 
 And the multitudes that went before, and that 
 followed, cried, saying, Hosanna to the son of 
 David ; Blessed is he that cometh in the name of 
 the Lord ; Hosanna in the highest. Matthew, 
 chap, xxi., verse 9. 
 
 And when they had sung an hymn, they went out 
 into the Mount of Olives. Mark, chap, xiv., 
 verse 26. 
 
 And suddenly there was with the angel a multi- 
 tude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying, 
 Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, 
 goodwill toward men. Luke, chap, ii., verses 
 13-14.
 
 82 
 
 . . . . and as he came and drew nigh to the 
 house he heard musick and dancing. Luke, chap, 
 xv., verse 25. 
 
 And they worshipped him, and returned to Jeru- 
 salem with great joy. And were continually in the 
 temple praising and blessing God. Luke, chap, 
 xxiv., verses 52-53. 
 
 And at midnight Paul and Silas prayed and sang 
 praises unto God; and the prisoners heard them. 
 Acts, chap, xvi., verse 25. 
 
 For this cause I will confess to thee among the 
 Gentiles, and sing unto thy name. And again he 
 saith, Rejoice, ye Gentiles, with his people. And 
 again, Praise the Lord, all ye Gentiles, and laud 
 him, all ye people. Romans, chap, xv., verses 
 9-10-11. 
 
 Speaking to yourselves in psalms and hymns and 
 spiritual songs, singing and making melody in your 
 heart to the Lord. Ephesians, chap, v., verse 19. 
 
 For the Lord himself shall descend from heaven 
 with a shout, with the voice of the archangel, and 
 with the trump of God. 1st Thessalonians, chap, 
 iv., verse 16. 
 
 . . . . Is any merry? Let him sing psalms. 
 James, chap, v., verse 13. 
 
 And I beheld, and I heard the voice of many 
 angels round about the throne and the living 
 creatures and the elders; and the number of them 
 was ten thousand times ten thousand, and thou-
 
 83 
 
 sands of thousands; saying with a loud voice, 
 Worthy is the Lamb that was slain to receive power 
 and riches, and wisdom and strength, and honour 
 and glory and blessing. And every creature which 
 is in heaven, and on the earth, and under the 
 earth, and such as are in the sea, and all that are 
 in them heard I saying, Blessing and honour, and 
 glory and power, be unto him that sitteth upon 
 the throne, and unto the Lamb for ever and ever. 
 And the four living creatures said, Amen. And 
 the four-and-twenty elders fell down and wor- 
 shipped him that liveth for ever and ever. 
 Revelation, chap v., verses 11-14. 
 
 And I heard a voice from heaven as the voice of 
 many waters, and as the voice of a great thunder; 
 and I heard the voice of harpers, harping with their 
 harps. And they sung as it were a new song before 
 the throne and before the four living creatures and 
 the elders ; and no man could learn that song, but 
 the hundred and forty and four thousand which 
 were redeemed from the earth. Revelation, chap, 
 xiv., verses 2-3. 
 
 And the voice of harpers, and musicians, and of 
 pipers and trumpeters shall be heard no more at 
 all in thee. Revelation, chap, xviii., verse 22. 
 
 And I heard as it were the voice of a great mul- 
 titude, and as the voice of many waters, and as 
 the voice of mighty thunderings, saying, Alleluia; 
 for the Lord God omnipotent reigneth. Revela- 
 tion, chap, xix., verse 6.
 
 84 
 
 APPENDIX No. HI. 
 
 SELECTIONS FROM THE POETS AND 
 LITERATI. 
 
 Fingal came in his mildness, rejoicing in secret 
 over the deeds of his son. Morni's face brightened 
 with gladness; his aged eyes look fondly through 
 tears of joy. We came to the halls of Selma. We 
 sat around the feast of shells. The maids of song 
 came into our presence, and the mildly-blushing 
 Everallin ! Her hair spreads on her neck of snow, 
 her eye rolls in secret on Ossian. She touched the 
 harp of music ; we blessed the daughter of Brauno ! 
 Macpherson's Translation of Ossian, from Lath- 
 mon. 
 
 O, strike the harp in praise of my love, the lonely 
 sunbeam of Dunscaith ! Strike the harp in praise 
 of Bragela; she that I left in the Isle of Mist, the 
 spouse of Semo's son ! . . . Retire, for it is 
 night, my love; the dark winds sing in thy hair. 
 Ossian, from Fingal, Book I. 
 
 Many a voice and many a harp in tuneful sounds 
 arose. Of Fingal's noble deeds they sung ; of 
 Fingal's noble race. And some times on the lovely 
 sound was heard the name of Ossian. Ossian, from 
 Fingal, Book HI.
 
 85 
 
 But sit thou on the heath, O Bard; and let us 
 hear thy voice. It is pleasant as the gale of spring 
 that sighs on the hunter's ear ; when he awakens 
 from dreams of joy, and has heard the music of 
 the spirits of the hill ! Ossian, from Fingal, Book 
 V. 
 
 ' Raise, ye bards of other times," continued the 
 great Fingal, " raise high the praise of heroes." 
 . . . . A hundred voices at once arose; a hun- 
 dred harps were strung. They sung of other times ; 
 the mighty chiefs of former years ! When now 
 shall I hear the bard? When rejoice at the fame 
 of my fathers? The harp is not strung on Morven. 
 The voice of music ascends not on Cona. Dead, 
 with the mighty, is the bard. Fame is in the 
 desert no more. Ossian, from Fingal, Book VI. 
 
 The people gather to the hall. The shells of the 
 feast are heard. Ten harps are strung; five bards 
 advance, and sing, by turns, the praise of Ossian, 
 they poured forth their burning souls, and the 
 string answered to their voice. The joy of Croma 
 was great ; for peace returned to the land. Ossian, 
 from Croma. 
 
 Nor unconcerned heard Sulmalla, the praise of 
 Cathmor of shields. . . . Amidst the song re- 
 moved the daughter of Kings, like the voice of a 
 summer-breeze; when it lifts the heads of flowers, 
 and curls the lakes and streams. The rustling 
 sound gently spreads o'er the vale, softly-pleasing 
 as it saddens the soul. Ossian, from Sul-malla of 
 Lumon.
 
 86 
 
 How great was the joy of Ossian when he beheld 
 the distant sail of his son ! . . . We brought 
 him with songs to Selma's halls. Fingal spread the 
 feast of shells. A thousand bards raised the name 
 of Oscar : Morven answered to the sound. The 
 daughter of Toscar was there; her voice was like 
 the harp ; when the distant sound comes in the 
 evening, on the soft-rustling breeze of the vale ! 
 Ossian, from The War of Inis-Thona. 
 
 Such were the words of the bards in the days of 
 song, when the King heard the music of harps, the 
 tales of other times ! The chiefs gathered from all 
 their hills and heard the lovely sound. They 
 praised the voice of Cona,* the first among a thou- 
 sand bards ! But age is now on my tongue ; my 
 soul has failed ! I hear at times the ghosts of bards, 
 and learn their pleasant song. But memory fails on 
 my mind. I hear the call of years ! They say, as 
 they pass along, Why does Ossian sing? Soon 
 shall he lie in the narrow house, and no bard shall 
 raise his fame ! Roll on, ye dark-brown years ! ye 
 bring no joy on your course ! Let the tomb open 
 to Ossian, for his strength has failed. The sons 
 of song are gone to rest. My voice remains, like 
 a blast, that roars lonely, on a sea-surrounded rock 
 after the winds are laid. The dark moss whistles 
 there; the distant mariner sees the waving trees ! 
 Ossian, from The Songs of Selma. 
 
 " In exitu Israel de /Egypto." 
 All with one voice together sang, with what 
 In the remainder of that hymn is writ. 
 
 * Ossian.
 
 87 
 
 Then I ; "If new law taketh not from thee 
 Memory or custom of love-tuned song, 
 That whilom all my cares had power to 'swage ; 
 Please thee therewith a little to console 
 My spirit, that encumber'd with its frame 
 Travelling so far, of pain is overcome." 
 ' Love, that discourses in my thoughts," he then 
 Began in such soft accents, that within 
 The sweetness thrills me yet. My gentle guide 
 And all who came with him, so well were pleased, 
 That seem'd nought else might in their thoughts 
 
 have room. 
 
 Fast fix'd in mute attention to his notes 
 We stood. 
 
 From Dante's Purgatory, Canto ii. 
 (Gary's Translation). 
 
 . . . . Attentively I turn'd, 
 
 Listening the thunder that first issued forth ; 
 
 And " We praise thee, O God," methought I 
 
 heard, 
 
 In accents blended with sweet melody. 
 The strains came o'er mine ear, e'en as the sound 
 Of choral voices, that in solemn chant 
 With organ mingle, and, now high and clear, 
 Come swelling, now float indistinct away. 
 
 From Dante's Purgatory, Canto ix. 
 
 As, entering, there we turn'd, voices, in strain 
 Ineffable, sang : " Blessed are the poor 
 In spirit." Ah ! how far unlike to these 
 The straits of Hell : here songs to usher us, 
 There, shrieks of woe. 
 
 From Dante's Purgatory, Canto xii.
 
 88 
 
 the bird that most 
 
 Delights itself in song. 
 
 From Dante's Purgatory, Canto xvii. 
 
 I am the Syren, she whom mariners 
 
 On the wide sea are wilder'd when they hear; 
 
 Such fulness of delight the listener feels. 
 
 I, from his course, Ulysses by my lay 
 
 Enchanted drew. Whoe'er frequents me once, 
 
 Parts seldom : so I charm him, and his heart, 
 
 Contented, knows no void. 
 
 From Dante's Purgatory, Canto xix. 
 
 A pleasant air, 
 
 That intermitted never, never veer'd, 
 Smote on my temples, gently, as a wind 
 Of softest influence : at which the sprays, 
 Obedient all, lean'd trembling to that part 
 Where first the holy mountain casts his shade ; 
 Yet were not so disorder'd but that still 
 Upon their top the feather'd quiristers 
 Applied their wonted art, and with full joy 
 Welcomed those hours of prime, and warbled shrill 
 Amid the leaves, that to their jocund lays 
 Kept tenour; even as from branch to branch, 
 Along the piny forests on the shore 
 Of Chiassi, rolls the gathering melody, 
 When Eolus hath from his cavern loosed 
 The dripping south. 
 
 From Dante's Purgatory, Canto xxviii. 
 
 Now, through my breast let Helicon his stream 
 Pour copious, and Urania with her choir 
 Arise to aid me ; while the verse unfolds, 
 Things that do almost mock the grasp of thought. 
 From Dante's Purgatory, Canto xxix.
 
 89 
 
 " The heathen, Lord ! are come " : responsive 
 
 thus, 
 
 The trinal now, and now the virgin band 
 Quaternion, their sweet psalmody began, 
 Weeping ; and Beatrice listen'd, sad 
 And sighing, to the song, in such a mood, 
 That Mary, as she stood beside the Cross, 
 Was scarce more changed. 
 
 From Dante's Purgatory, Canto xxxiii. 
 
 Of diverse voices is sweet music made. 
 
 From Dante's Paradise, Canto vi. 
 
 And as the chime 
 
 Of minstrel music, dulcimer, and harp 
 With many strings, a pleasant dinning makes. 
 To him who heareth not distinct the note ; 
 So from the lights, which there appear'd to me, 
 Gather'd along the cross a melody, 
 That undistinctly heard, with ravishment 
 Possess'd me. Yet I mark'd it was a hymn 
 Of lofty praises; for there came to me, 
 " Arise " and " Conquer," as to one who hears 
 And comprehends not. Me such ecstasy 
 O'ercame, that never, till that hour, was thing 
 That held me in so sweet imprisonment. 
 
 From Dante's Paradise, Canto xiv. 
 
 Like to the lark, 
 
 That warbling in the air expatiates long, 
 Then, trilling out his last sweet melody, 
 Drops, satiate with the sweetness 
 
 And, as one handling skilfully the harp,
 
 90 
 
 Attendant on some skilful songster's voice 
 Bids the chord vibrate; and therein the song 
 Acquires more pleasure. 
 
 From Dante's Paradise, Canto xx. 
 
 Then, " Glory to the Father, to the Son, 
 And to the Holy Ghost," rang aloud 
 Throughout all Paradise; that with the song 
 My spirit reel'd, so passing sweet the strain. 
 
 From Dante's Paradise, Canto xxvii. 
 
 And he who had to her descended once 
 
 On earth, now hail'd in Heaven; and on poised 
 
 wing; 
 
 " Ave, Maria, Gratia Plena," sang : 
 To whose sweet anthem all the blissful court, 
 From all parts, answering, rang ; that holier joy 
 Brooded the deep serene. 
 
 From Dante's Paradise, Canto xxxii. 
 
 Eftsoones, they heard a most melodious sound, 
 Of all that mote delight a daintie eare, 
 Such as attonce might not on living ground, 
 Save in this Paradise, be heard elsewhere : 
 Right hard it was for wight which did it heare, 
 To read what manner musicke that mote bee, 
 For all that pleasing is to living eare 
 Was there consorted in one harmonee. 
 Birdes, voices, instruments, windes, waters, all 
 
 agree. 
 
 The joyous birdes, shrouded in chearefull shade, 
 Their notes unto the voice attempred sweet;
 
 91 
 
 Th' Angelicall soft trembling voyces made 
 To th' instruments, divine respondence meet; 
 The silver sounding instruments did meet; 
 With the base murmure of the waters fall; 
 The waters fall with difference discreet, 
 Now soft, now loud, unto the wind did call ; 
 The gentle warbling wind low answered to all. 
 Spenser, from The Faerie Queene, Book II., 
 Canto xii. 
 
 (ENTER MUSICIANS.) 
 
 Come, ho; and wake Diana with a hymn, 
 
 With sweetest touches pierce your mistress' ear, 
 
 And draw her home with music. 
 
 I am never merry when I hear sweet music. 
 
 The reason is, your spirits are attentive : 
 
 For do but note a wild and wanton herd, 
 
 Or race of youthful and unhandled colts, 
 
 Fetching mad bounds, bellowing and neighing loud, 
 
 Which is the hot condition of their blood; 
 
 If they but hear perchance a trumpet sound, 
 
 Or any air of music touch their ears, 
 
 You shall perceive them make a mutual stand, 
 
 Their savage eyes turn'd to a modest gaze, 
 
 By the sweet power of music ! therefore, the poet 
 
 Did feign that Orpheus drew trees, stones, and 
 
 floods ; 
 
 Since naught so stockish, hard, and full of rage, 
 But music for the time doth change his nature. 
 Shakespeare, from The Merchant of Venice.
 
 92 
 
 Let music sound, while he doth make his choice; 
 Then, if he lose, he makes a swan-like end, 
 
 Fading in music 
 
 He may win : 
 
 And what is music then? Then music is 
 Even as the flourish when true subjects bow 
 To a new-crowned monarch : such it is, 
 As are those dulcet sounds in break of day, 
 That creep into the dreaming bridegroom's ear 
 And summon him to marriage. 
 
 Shakespeare, from The Merchant of Venice. 
 
 Music do I hear? 
 
 Ha, ha ! keep time. How sour sweet music is 
 When time is broke, and no proportion kept ! 
 So is it in the music of men's lives. 
 And here have I the daintiness of ear, 
 To check time broke in a disorder'd string; 
 But, for the concord of my state and time, 
 Had not an ear to hear my true time broke : 
 I wasted time, and now doth time waste me. 
 
 This music mads me ; let it sound no more ; 
 For though it hath holp madmen to their wits, 
 In me, it seems, it will make wise men mad. 
 Yet blessing on his heart that gives it me ! 
 For 'tis a sign of love, and love to Richard 
 Is a strange brooch in this all-hating world. 
 
 Shakespeare, from King Richard II. 
 
 It is my soul, that calls upon my name : 
 
 How silver-sweet sound lovers' tongues by night, 
 
 Like softest music to attending ears ! 
 
 Shakespeare, from Romeo and Juliet.
 
 93 
 
 Ah, Juliet, if the measure of thy joy 
 Be heaped like mine, and that thy skill be more 
 To blazon it, then sweeten with thy breath 
 This neighbour air, and let rich music's tongue 
 Unfold the imagined happiness, that both 
 Receive in either by this dear encounter. 
 
 Shakespeare, from Romeo and Juliet. 
 
 If music be the food of love, play on ; 
 
 O ! it came o'er my ear like the sweet sound 
 That breathes upon a bank of violets 
 Stealing and giving odour ! 
 
 Shakespeare, from Twelfth Night. 
 
 Under the greenwood tree, 
 
 Who loves to lie with me, 
 
 And tune his merry note 
 
 Unto the sweet bird's throat 
 
 Come hither, come hither, come hither ! 
 
 Here shall we see 
 
 No enemy, 
 But winter and rough weather. 
 
 Shakespeare, from As You Like It. 
 
 as sweet and musical 
 
 As bright Apollo's lute, strung with his hair; 
 And when Love speaks, the voice of all the gods 
 Makes heaven drowsy with the harmony. 
 
 Shakespeare, from Love's Labour Lost. 
 
 Once I sat upon a promontory, 
 
 And heard a mermaid on a dolphin's back 
 Uttering such dulcet and harmonious breath, 
 That the rude sea grew civil at her song,
 
 94 
 
 And certain stars shot madly from their spheres, 
 
 To hear the sea-maid's music. 
 
 Shakespeare, from A Midsummer Night's Dream. 
 
 How oft, when thou, my music, music play'st 
 Upon that blessed wood whose motion sounds 
 With thy sweet ringers, when thou gently sway'st 
 The wiry concord that mine ear confounds, 
 Do I envy those jacks that nimble leap 
 To kiss the tender inward of thy hand ! 
 
 Shakespeare, from Sonnets. 
 
 If the true concord of well-tuned sounds, 
 By unions married, do offend thy ear, 
 They do but sweetly chide thee, who confounds 
 In singleness the parts that thou shouldst bear. 
 Mark, how one string, sweet husband to another, 
 Strikes each in each by mutual ordering ; 
 Resembling sire and child and happy mother, 
 Who, all in one, one pleasing note do sing : 
 Whose speechless song, being many, seeming one, 
 Sings this to thee ' Thou single wilt prove none." 
 Shakespeare, from Sonnets. 
 
 Anon they move 
 
 In perfect phalanx to the Dorian mood 
 Of flutes and soft recorders such as raised 
 To height of noblest temper heroes old 
 Arming to battle; and instead of rage 
 Deliberate valour breathed, firm and unmoved 
 With dread of death to flight or foul retreat ; 
 Nor wanting power to mitigate and swage 
 With solemn touches, troubled thoughts, and chase 
 Anguish, and doubt, and fear, and sorrow, and pain, 
 From mortal or immortal minds. Thus they
 
 95 
 
 Breathing united force with fixed thought, 
 Moved on in silence to soft pipes that charmed 
 Their painful steps o'er the burnt soil. 
 
 Milton, from Paradise Lost, Book I. 
 
 Others, more mild, 
 
 Retreated in a silent valley, sing 
 
 With notes angelical to many a harp. . . . 
 
 Their song was partial ; but the harmony 
 (What could it less when spirits immortal sing?) 
 Suspended hell, and took with ravishment 
 
 The thronging audience 
 
 Milton, from Paradise Lost, Book II. 
 
 No sooner had the Almighty ceased, but all 
 
 The multitude of angels with a shout 
 
 Loud as from numbers without number, sweet 
 
 As from blest voices, uttering joy Heaven rung 
 
 With jubilee, and loud hosannas filled 
 
 The eternal regions 
 
 Then crowned again their golden harps they took 
 Harps ever tuned, that, glittering by their side, 
 Like quivers hung ; and with preamble sweet 
 Of charming symphony they introduce 
 Their sacred song, and waken raptures high : 
 No voice exempt, no voice but well could join 
 Melodious part, such concord is in Heaven. 
 
 Milton, from Paradise Lost, Book HI. 
 
 Millions of spiritual creatures walk the earth 
 Unseen, both when we wake and when we sleep ; 
 All these with ceaseless praise His works behold
 
 96 
 
 Both day and night. How often from the steep 
 Of echoing hill or thicket have we heard 
 Celestial voices to the midnight air, 
 Sole, or responsive each to other's note, 
 Singing their great Creator ! Oft in bands 
 While they keep watch, or nightly rounding walk, 
 With heavenly touch of instrumental sounds 
 In full harmonic number joined, their songs 
 Divide the night, and lift our thoughts to Heaven. 
 Milton, from Paradise Lost, Book IV. 
 
 the powers militant 
 
 That stood for Heaven, in mighty quadrate joined 
 
 Of union irresistible, moved on 
 
 In silence their bright legions to the sound 
 
 Of instrumental harmony, that breathed 
 
 Heroic ardour to adventurous deeds 
 
 Under their god-like leaders in the cause 
 
 Of God and His Messiah. 
 
 Milton, from Paradise Lost, Book VI. 
 
 Nor passed uncelebrated, nor unsung 
 
 By the celestial choirs, when orient light 
 
 Exhaling first from darkness they beheld, 
 
 Birth-day of heaven and earth. With joy and shout 
 
 The hollow universal orb they filled; 
 
 And touched their golden harps, and hymning 
 
 praised 
 
 God and His works ; Creator Him they sung, 
 Both when first evening was, and when first morn. 
 Milton, from Paradise Lost, Book VII. 
 
 Up He rode, 
 
 Followed with acclamation, and the sound 
 Symphonious of ten thousand harps, that tuned
 
 97 
 
 Angelic harmonies. The earth, the air 
 
 Resounded, 
 
 The heavens and all the constellations rung, 
 The planets in their stations listening stood, 
 While the bright pomp ascended jubilant. 
 
 Milton, from Paradise Lost, Book VII. 
 
 the harp 
 
 Had work and rested not ; the solemn pipe 
 And dulcimer, all organs of sweet stop, 
 All sounds on fret by string or golden wire, 
 Tempered soft tunings, intermixed with voice 
 Choral or unison; 
 
 Creation and the six days' acts they sung. 
 
 So sung they, and the empyrean rung 
 With hallelujahs. Thus was Sabbath kept. 
 
 Milton, from Paradise Lost, Book VII. 
 
 others, whence the sound 
 
 Of instruments that made melodious chime 
 Was heard, of harp and organ, and who moved 
 Their stops and chords was seen : his volant touch. 
 Instinct through all proportions low and high 
 Fled and pursued transverse the resonant fugue. 
 
 Milton, from Paradise Lost, Book XL 
 
 and all Heaven 
 
 Admiring stood a space, then into hymns 
 Burst forth, and in celestial measures moved, 
 Circling the throne and singing, while the hand 
 
 Sung with the voice 
 
 Milton, from Paradise Regained, Book I. 
 
 and now the herald lark
 
 98 
 
 Left his ground-nest, high towering to descry 
 The morn's approach, and greet her with his song. 
 Milton, from Paradise Regained, Book II. 
 
 And all the while harmonious airs were heard 
 Of chiming strings or charming pipes. . . . 
 
 Milton, from Paradise Regained, Book II 
 
 Or, if I would delight my private hours 
 With music or with poem, where so soon 
 As in our native language can I find 
 That solace? All our law and story strewed 
 With hymns, our psalms with artful terms inscribed, 
 Our Hebrew songs and harps, in Babylon, 
 That pleased so well our victor's ear, declare 
 That rather Greece from us these arts derived- 
 Ill imitated while they loudest sing 
 The vices of their deities and their own, 
 
 In fable, hymn, or song 
 
 Thin sown with aught of profit or delight, 
 Will far be found unworthy to compare 
 With Sion's songs, to all true tastes excelling. 
 
 Milton, from Paradise Regained, Book IV. 
 
 the birds, 
 
 Who all things now behold more fresh and green, 
 After a night of storm so ruinous, 
 Cleared up their choicest notes in bush and spray 
 To gratulate the sweet return of morn. 
 
 Milton, from Paradise Regained, Book IV. 
 
 and as He fed, angelic choirs 
 
 Sung heavenly anthems of His victory 
 Over temptation and the tempter proud. 
 
 Milton, from Paradise Regained, Book IV.
 
 99 
 
 Who, with his soft pipe and smooth-dittied song, 
 Well knows to still the wild winds when they roar, 
 
 And hush the waving woods 
 
 Milton, from Comus. 
 
 LADY : Methought it was the sound 
 
 Of riot and ill-managed merriment 
 Such as the jocund flute or gamesome pipe 
 Stirs up among the loose unlettered hinds, 
 When, for their teeming flocks and granges full, 
 In wanton dance they praise the bounteous Pan 
 
 And thank the gods amiss 
 
 Milton, from Comus. 
 
 Sweet Echo, sweetest nymph, that liv'st unseen 
 
 Within thy airy shell, 
 By slow, Meander's margent green, 
 And in the violet-embroidered vale, 
 Where the love-lorn nightingale 
 Nightly to thee her sad song mourneth well. 
 
 Sweet queen of parley, daughter of the sphere. 
 
 Milton, from Comus. 
 
 Comus : Can any mortal mixture of earth's mould 
 
 Breathe such divine enchanting ravishment? 
 
 Sure something holy lodges in that breast, 
 
 And with these raptures moves the vocal air 
 
 To testify his hidden residence. 
 
 How sweetly did they float upon the wings 
 
 Of silence through the empty-vaulted night, 
 
 At every fall smoothing the raven-down 
 
 Of darkness till it smiled ! I have oft heard 
 
 My mother Circe with the Sirens three.
 
 100 
 
 Who, as they sung, would take the prisoned soul 
 And lap it in Elysium : Scylla wept 
 And chid her barking waves into attention, 
 And fell Charybdis murmured soft applause, 
 Yet they in pleasing slumber lulled the sense, 
 And in sweet madness robbed it of itself ; 
 But such a sacred and home-felt delight, 
 Such sober certainty of waking bliss 
 
 I never heard till now 
 
 Milton, from Comus. 
 
 First Bro. : Thyrsis ! whose artful strains have oft 
 
 delayed 
 
 The huddling brook to hear his madrigal, 
 And sweetened every musk-rose of the dale. 
 
 Milton, from Comus. 
 
 At last a soft and solemn-breathing sound 
 Rose like a steam of rich-distilled perfumes, 
 And stole, upon the air, that even silence 
 Was took ere she was 'ware, and wished she might 
 Deny her nature, and be never more, 
 Still to be so displaced. I was all ear, 
 And took in strains that might create a soul 
 Under the ribs of death. 
 
 Milton, from Comus. 
 
 So Lycidas sunk low, but mounted high, 
 Through the dear might of Him that walked the 
 waves, 
 
 hears the unexpressive nuptial song, 
 
 In the blest kingdoms meek of joy and love.
 
 101 
 
 There entertain him all the saints above, 
 In solemn troops, and sweet societies, 
 That sing, and singing, in their glory move, 
 And wipe the tears for ever from his eyes. 
 
 Milton, from Lycidas. 
 
 Sweet bird, that shunn'st the noise of folly, 
 Most musical, most melancholy ! 
 Thee, chantress, oft the woods among 
 I woo, to hear thy even-song. 
 
 Milton, from // Penseroso. 
 
 And, as I wake, sweet music breathe 
 
 Above, about, or underneath, 
 
 Sent by some spirit to mortals good, 
 
 Or the unseen genius of the wood. 
 
 But let my due feet never fail 
 
 To walk the studious cloister's pale, 
 
 And love the high embowed roof, 
 
 With antique pillars massy proof, 
 
 And storied windows richly dight, 
 
 Casting a dim religious light. 
 
 There let the pealing organ blow, 
 
 To the full-voiced choir below, 
 
 In service high and anthems clear, 
 
 As may with sweetness, through mine ear, 
 
 Dissolve me into ecstasies, 
 
 And bring all Heaven before mine eyes. 
 
 Milton, from // Penseroso. 
 
 And ever, against eating cares, 
 Lap me in soft Lydian airs, 
 Married to immortal verse, 
 Such as the meeting soul may pierce 
 In notes with many a winding bout
 
 102 
 
 Of linked sweetness long drawn out, 
 
 With wanton heed and giddy cunning 
 
 The melting voice through mazes running, 
 
 Untwisting all the chains that tie 
 
 The hidden soul of harmony. 
 
 That Orpheus' self may heave his head 
 
 From golden slumber on a bed 
 
 Of heaped Elysian flowers, and hear 
 
 Such strains as would have won the ear 
 
 Of Pluto to have quite set free 
 
 His half-regained Eurydice. 
 
 Milton, from L' Allegro. 
 
 But else, in deep of night, when drowsiness 
 Hath locked up mortal sense, then listen I 
 To the celestial Sirens' harmony, 
 That sit upon the nine infolded spheres, 
 And sing to those that hold the vital shears, 
 And turn the adamantine spindle round, 
 On which the fate of gods and men is wound. 
 Such sweet compulsion doth in music lie, 
 To lull the daughters of necessity, 
 And keep unsteady Nature to her law, 
 And the low world in measured motion draw 
 After the heavenly tune, which none can hear 
 Of human mould with gross unpurged ear. 
 
 Milton, from Arcades. 
 
 When such music sweet 
 
 Their hearts and ears did greet, 
 As never was by mortal finger strook, 
 
 Divinely-warbled voice 
 
 Answering the stringed noise, 
 As all their souls in blissful rapture took.
 
 103 
 
 The air such pleasure loth to lose, 
 
 With thousand echoes still prolongs each 
 heavenly close. 
 
 Nature, that heard such sound 
 
 Beneath the hollow round 
 Of Cynthia's seat the airy region thrilling, 
 
 Now was almost won 
 
 To think her part was done, 
 And that her reign had here its last fulfilling : 
 
 She knew such harmony alone 
 
 Could hold all Heaven and earth in happier 
 union. 
 
 At last surrounds their sight 
 
 A globe of circular light, 
 That with long beams the shamefaced night arrayed, 
 
 The helmed cherubim, 
 
 And sworded seraphim 
 Are seen in glittering ranks with wings displayed, 
 
 Harping in loud and solemn choir, 
 
 With unexpressive notes, to Heaven's new-born 
 Heir. 
 
 Such music (as 'tis said) 
 
 Before was never made, 
 But when of old the sons of morning sung, 
 
 While the Creator great 
 
 His constellations set, 
 And the well-balanced world on hinges hung. 
 
 And cast the dark foundations deep, 
 
 And bid the weltering waves their oozy channels 
 keep. 
 
 Ring out, ye crystal spheres ! 
 
 Once bless our human ears. 
 If ye have power to touch our senses so ;
 
 104 
 
 And let your silver chime 
 
 Move in melodious time, 
 And let the bass of Heaven's deep organ blow ; 
 
 And with your ninefold harmony 
 
 Make up full consort to the angelic symphony. 
 
 For, if such holy song 
 
 Enwrap our fancy long, 
 Time will run back and fetch the age of gold ; 
 
 And speckled vanity 
 
 Will sicken soon, and die, 
 And leprous sin will melt from earthly mould; 
 
 And hell itself will pass away, 
 
 And leave her dolorous mansions to the peering 
 day. 
 
 Milton, from Hymn on the Nativity. 
 
 From harmony, from heav'nly harmony, 
 
 This universal frame began ; 
 
 From harmony to harmony, 
 
 Through all the compass of the notes it ran ; 
 
 The diapason closing full in man. 
 
 What passion cannot Music raise and quell? 
 
 When Jubal struck the corded shell 
 
 His list'ning brethren stood around, 
 
 And, wond'ring, on their faces fell 
 
 To worship that celestial sound ; 
 
 Less than a god they thought there could not dwell 
 
 Within the hollow of that shell 
 
 That spoke so sweetly and so well. 
 
 What passion cannot Music raise and quell? 
 
 But, oh ! what art can teach, 
 What human voice can reach 
 The sacred organ's praise,
 
 105 
 
 Notes inspiring holy love, 
 
 Notes that wing their heav'nly ways, 
 
 To mend the choirs above. 
 
 Orpheus cou'd lead the savage race, 
 
 And trees, unrooted, left their place, 
 
 Sequacious of the lyre; 
 
 But bright Cecilia rais'd the wonder higher 
 
 When to her organ vocal breath was giv'n, 
 
 An angel heard and straight appear'd 
 
 Mistaking earth for heav'n. 
 
 GRAND CHORUS. 
 
 As from the pow'r of sacred lays 
 
 The spheres began to move, 
 
 And sung the great Creator's praise 
 
 To all the bless'd above : 
 
 So, when the last and dreadful hour 
 
 This crumbling pageant shall devour, 
 
 The trumpet shall be heard on high, 
 
 The dead shall live, the living die, 
 
 And Music shall untune the sky. 
 
 Dryden, from A Song for St. Cecilia's Day. 
 
 Timotheus plac'd on high 
 
 Amid the tuneful quire, 
 
 With flying fingers touch'd the lyre; 
 
 The trembling notes ascend the sky, 
 
 And heav'nly joys inspire. 
 
 The praise of Bacchus, then, the sweet musician 
 
 sung, 
 
 Of Bacchus ever fair and ever young. 
 The jolly god in triumph comes ; 
 Sound the trumpets, beat the drums !
 
 106 
 
 Flush'd with a purple grace, 
 
 He shows his honest face; 
 
 Now give the hautboys breath ; he comes, he 
 
 comes ! 
 Bacchus, ever fair and young, 
 
 Bacchus' blessings are a treasure, 
 
 Rich the treasure, 
 
 Sweet the pleasure, 
 
 Sweet is pleasure after pain. 
 
 Dry den, from Alexander's Feast; or, The 
 Power of Music. 
 
 Music has charms to soothe a savage breast, 
 To soften rocks, or bend a knotted oak, 
 I've read that things inanimate have moved, 
 And, as with living souls, have been informed 
 By magic numbers and persuasive sound. 
 
 William Congreve, from The Mourning Bride. 
 Music the fiercest grief can charm, 
 And Fate's severest rage disarm ; 
 Music can soften pain to ease, 
 And make despair and madness please ; 
 Our joys below it can improve, 
 And antedate the bliss above. 
 
 Pope, from Ode for Music on St. Cecilia's Day. 
 
 Behold the merry minstrels of the morn, 
 The swarming songsters of the careless grove, 
 Ten thousand throats that, from the flowering 
 
 thorn, 
 
 Hymn their good God, and carol sweet of love 
 Such grateful kindly raptures them emove !
 
 107 
 
 A certain music, never known before, 
 Here lulled the pensive, melancholy mind; 
 Full easily obtained. Behoves no more, 
 But sidelong to the gently-waving wind 
 To lay the well-tuned intrument reclined; 
 From which, with airy flying fingers light, 
 Beyond each mortal touch the most refined, 
 The god of winds drew sounds of deep delight ; 
 Whence with just cause the harp of Eolus it hight. 
 Ah me ! what hand can touch the string so fine? 
 Who up the lofty diapason roll 
 Such sweet, such sad, such solemn airs divine, 
 Then let them down again into the soul ! 
 Now rising love they fanned ; now pleasing dole 
 They breathed, in tender musings, through the 
 
 heart ; 
 
 And now a graver sacred strain they stole, 
 As when seraphic hands a hymn impart; 
 Wild-warbling Nature all, above the reach of Art ! 
 Thomson, from The Castle of Indolence. 
 
 Awake, yEolian lyre, awake ! 
 
 And give to rapture all thy trembling strings, 
 
 Now, the rich stream of Music winds along, 
 Deep, majestic, smooth, and strong. 
 
 Gray, from The Progress of Poesy. 
 
 Cold is Cadwallo's tongue 
 
 That hushed the stormy main ; 
 
 Brave Urien sleeps upon his craggy bed; 
 
 Mountains ye mourn in vain. 
 
 Modred, whose magic song
 
 108 
 
 Made huge Plinlimmon bow his cloud-topped head, 
 On dreary Arvon's shore they lie. 
 
 What strings symphonious tremble in the air ! 
 What strains of vocal transport round her play ! 
 Hear from the grave, great Taliessin, hear ! 
 They breathe a soul to animate thy clay. 
 
 Gray, from The Bard A Pindaric Ode. 
 
 But who the melodies of morn can tell? 
 
 The wild brook babbling down the mountain side; 
 
 The lowing herd; the shepherd's simple bell; 
 
 The pipe of early shepherd dim descried 
 
 In the lone valley ; echoing far and wide 
 
 The clamorous horn along the cliffs above ; 
 
 The hollow murmur of the ocean tide; 
 
 The hum of bees; the linnet's lay of love; 
 
 And the full choir that wakes the universal grove. 
 
 O, Nature, how in every charm supreme ! 
 Whose votaries feast on raptures ever new ! 
 O, for the voice and fire of seraphim, 
 To sing thy glories with devotion due ! 
 Blest be the day I 'scaped the wrangling crew, 
 . . And held high converse with the goldlike few 
 Who, to th' enraptured heart, and ear, and eye, 
 Teach beauty, virtue, truth, and love, and melody. 
 Beattie, from The Minstrel. 
 
 Not rural sights alone, but rural sounds, 
 Exhilarate the spirit, and restore 
 The tone of languid nature. Mighty winds 
 That sweep the skirt of some far-spreading wood 
 Of ancient growth, make music not unlike
 
 109 
 
 The dash of ocean on his winding shore, 
 
 And lull the spirit while they fill the mind, 
 
 Unnumbered branches waving in the blast, 
 
 And all their leaves fast fluttering all at once. 
 
 Nor less composure waits upon the roar 
 
 Of distant floods, or on the softer voice 
 
 Of neighbouring fountain, or of rills that slip 
 
 Through the cleft rock, and, shining as they fall 
 
 Upon loose pebbles, lose themselves at length 
 
 In matted grass, that with a livelier green 
 
 Betrays the secret of their silent course. 
 
 Nature inanimate employs sweet sounds, 
 
 But animated nature sweeter still, 
 
 To soothe and satisfy the human ear. 
 
 Ten thousand warblers cheer the day, and one 
 
 The livelong night 
 
 Cowper, from The Task. 
 
 The howl of the wolf is little distinguished from 
 the howl of the dog, either in its tone or in its 
 strength ; but there is no comparison between their 
 sublimity . . . The hooting of the owl at mid- 
 night, or amid ruins, is strikingly sublime . . . 
 The scream of the eagle ... is sublime only 
 when it is heard amid rocks and deserts, and when 
 it is expressive to us of liberty, and independence, 
 and savage majesty. The neighing of a war-horse 
 in the field of battle, or of a young untrained horse 
 when at large among mountains, is powerfully sub- 
 lime . . There is certainly no resemblance, as 
 sounds, between the noise of thunder and the hiss- 
 ing of a serpent ; between the growling of a tiger 
 and the explosion of gunpowder ; between the
 
 110 
 
 scream of the eagle and the shouting of a multitude ; 
 yet all of these are sublime. In the same manner, 
 there is as little resemblance between the tinkling 
 of the sheep-fold bell and the murmuring of the 
 breeze ; between the hum of the beetle and the song 
 of the lark ; between the twitter of the swallow and 
 the sound of the curfew ; yet all these are beautiful. 
 Rev. Archibald Alison, from Essays Sound 
 Coloured by Association. 
 
 The second was styled the Temple of Melody, 
 or the Nectar of the Soul. It was inhabited by the 
 most skilful musicians and admired poets of the 
 time, who not only displayed their talents within, 
 but, dispersing in bands without, caused every sur- 
 rounding scene to reverberate their songs, which 
 were continually varied in the most delightful suc- 
 cession. William Beckford, from Vathek The 
 Caliph Vathek and his Palace. 
 
 How still the morning of the hallowed day ! 
 
 Mute is the voice of rural labour, hushed 
 
 The ploughboy's whistle and the milkmaid's song. 
 
 Sounds the most faint attract the ear the hum 
 Of early bee, the trickling of the dew, 
 The distant bleating midway up the hill. 
 
 The blackbird's note comes mellower from the dale, 
 And sweeter from the sky the gladsome lark 
 Warbles his heaven-tuned song; the lulling brook 
 Murmurs more gently down the deep-sunk glen, 
 While from yon lowly roof, whose curling smoke 
 O'ermounts the mist, is heard at intervals
 
 Ill 
 
 The voice of psalms, the simple song of praise. 
 
 A pause ensues. 
 
 The organ breathes its distant thunder-notes, 
 Then swells into a diapason full : 
 The people, rising, sing, " with harp, with harp, 
 And voice of psalms;" harmoniously attuned 
 The various voices blend, the long-drawn aisles, 
 At every close the lingering strain prolong. 
 
 Nor yet less pleasing at the heavenly throne 
 The Sabbath service of the shepherd-boy ! 
 In some lone glen, where every sound is lulled 
 To slumber, save the tinkling of the rill, 
 Or bleat of lamb, or hovering falcon's cry ; 
 Stretched on the sward, he reads of Jesse's son, 
 Or sheds a tear o'er him to Egypt sold, 
 And wonders why he weeps : . . . . 
 Thus reading, hymning, all alone, unseen, 
 The shepherd-boy the Sabbath holy keeps. 
 
 Rev. James Grahame, from The Sabbath. 
 
 Hark ! through the calm and silence of the scene, 
 
 Slow, solemn, sweet, with many a pause between, 
 
 Celestial music swells along the air ! 
 
 No ! 'tis the evening-hymn of praise and prayer 
 
 From yonder deck, where, on the stern retired, 
 
 Three humble voyagers, with looks inspired 
 
 And hearts enkindled with a holier flame 
 
 Than ever lit to empire or to fame, 
 
 Devoutly stand : their choral accents rise 
 
 On wings of harmony beyond the skies; 
 
 And, 'mid the songs that seraph-minstrels sing, 
 
 Day without night, to their immortal King, 
 
 These simple strains, which erst Bohemian hills
 
 112 
 
 Echoed to pathless woods and desert rills, 
 Now heard from Shetland's azure bound are 
 known 
 
 In heaven 
 
 Is there a group more lovely than those three 
 Night-watching pilgrims on the lonely sea? 
 Or to his ear, that gathers in one sound 
 The voices of adoring worlds around, 
 Comes there a breath of more delightful praise 
 Than the faint notes his poor disciples raise, 
 Ere on the treacherous main they sink to rest, 
 Secure as leaning on their Master's breast? 
 
 James Montgomery, from Greenland. 
 
 They chant their artless notes in simple guise ; 
 They tune their hearts, by far the noblest aim ; 
 Perhaps " Dundee's " wild-warbling measures rise, 
 Or plaintive " Martyrs " worthy of the name, 
 Or noble " Elgin " beats the heavenward flame, 
 The sweetest far of Scotia's holy lays : 
 Compar'd with these, Italian trills are tame; 
 The tickl'd ears no heartfelt raptures raise; 
 Nae unison hae they with our Creator's praise. 
 
 Burns, from The Cotter's Saturday Night. 
 
 There was ae sang, among the rest, 
 Aboon them a' it pleas'd me best, 
 That some kind husband had addrest 
 
 To some sweet wife ; 
 It thirl'd the heart-strings thro' the breast, 
 
 A' to the life. 
 
 Burns, from Epistle to J. Lapraik. 
 
 A pigmy scraper wi' his fiddle, 
 
 Wha us'd at trystes and fairs to driddle,
 
 113 
 
 Wi' hand on hainch, and upward e'e, 
 He croon'd his gamut, one, two, three, 
 Then in an arioso key 
 
 The wee Apollo 
 Set off wi' allegretto glee 
 
 His giga solo. 
 Burns, from The Jolly Beggars A Cantata. 
 
 All hail ! my own inspired bard ! 
 In me thy native Muse regard; 
 Nor longer mourn thy fate is hard, 
 
 Thus poorly low ; 
 I come to give thee such reward 
 
 As we bestow. 
 
 " And wear thou this," she solemn said, 
 And bound the holly round my head : 
 The polish'd leaves and berries red 
 
 Did rustling play; 
 And like a passing thought, she fled 
 
 In light away ! 
 
 Burns, from The Vision. 
 
 A fairy train appear'd in order bright ; 
 
 While arts of Minstrelsy among them rung, 
 And soul-ennobling Bards heroic ditties sung. 
 
 No guess could tell what instrument appear'd, 
 But all the soul of Music's self was heard; 
 Harmonious concert rung in every part, 
 While simple melody pour'd, moving, on the heart. 
 Burns, from The Brigs of Ayr.
 
 114 
 
 Hale be your heart ! hale be your fiddle ! 
 Lang may your elbuck jink and diddle, 
 To cheer you through the weary widdle 
 
 O' this wild warl', 
 Until you on a crummock driddle, 
 
 A grey-hair'd carl. 
 
 May still your life from day to day 
 
 Nae " lente largo " in the play, 
 
 But " allegretto forte " gay, 
 Harmonious flow, 
 
 A sweeping, kindling, bauld strathspey- 
 Encore ! Bravo ! 
 Burns, from Epistle to Major Logan. 
 
 The sober lav'rock, warbling wild, 
 
 Shall to the skies aspire; 
 The gowdspink, Music's gayest child, 
 
 Shall sweetly join the choir; 
 The blackbird strong, the lintwhite clear, 
 
 The mavis mild and mellow; 
 The robin pensive Autumn cheer, 
 
 In all her locks of yellow. 
 
 -Burns, from The Humble Petition oj Bruar 
 Water. 
 
 Ilk happing bird wee, helpless thing, 
 That in the merry months o' Spring 
 Delighted me to hear thee sing; 
 
 What comes o' thee? 
 Whar' wilt thou cow'r thy chittering wing 
 
 An' close thy e'e? 
 
 Burns, from A Winter Night.
 
 115 
 
 I hear her voice in ilka bird 
 Wi' music charm the air; 
 
 There's no' a bonnie bird that sings 
 But minds me o' my Jean. 
 Burns, from O' a' the airts the wind can blaw. 
 
 The birds sang love on every spray. 
 
 Burns, from To Mary in Heaven. 
 
 Now laverocks wake the merry morn 
 
 Aloft on dewy wing ; 
 The merle in his noon tide bow'r 
 
 Makes woodland echoes ring ; 
 The mavis wild, wi' mony a note, 
 
 Sings drowsy day to rest : 
 In love and freedom they rejoice, 
 
 Wi' care nor thrall opprest. 
 Burns, from Lament of Mary Queen of Scots. 
 
 Her voice is like the ev'ning thrush 
 That sings on Cessnock's banks unseen ; 
 While his mate sits nestling in the bush. 
 
 Burns, from The Lass of Cessnock Banks. 
 Her voice is the song o' the morning, 
 
 That wakes thro' the green-spreading grove 
 When Phoebus peeps over the mountains 
 On music, and pleasure, and love. 
 
 Burns, from Phillis, the Queen o' the Fair. 
 
 The feather'd people you might see 
 
 Perch'd all around on every tree, 
 
 In notes of sweetest melody 
 
 They hail the charming Chloe. 
 
 Burns, from The Charming Month of May.
 
 116 
 
 And frae his harp sic strains did flow, 
 
 Might rous'd the slumb'ring Dead to hear; 
 But oh, it was a tale of woe, 
 
 As ever met a Briton's ear ! 
 He sang wi' joy his former day ; 
 
 He, weeping, wailed his latter times ; 
 But what he said it was nae play, 
 
 I winna ventur't in my rhymes. 
 
 Burns, from A Vision. 
 
 And as he touch'd his trembling harp, 
 
 And as he tun'd his doleful sang, 
 The winds lamenting thro' their caves 
 To Echo bore the notes alang. 
 
 Awake thy last sad voice, my harp ! 
 
 The voice of woe and wild despair ! 
 Awake, resound thy latest lay, 
 
 Then sleep in silence evermair. 
 Burns, from Lament for James, Earl of Glcncairn. 
 
 . . . . With solemn rites between, 
 'Twas sung how they were lovely in their lives, 
 And in their deaths had not divided been. 
 Touched by the music and the melting scene, 
 Was scarce one tearless eye amidst the crowd- 
 Stern warriors, resting on their swords, were seen 
 To veil their eyes as passed each much-loved 
 
 shroud- 
 While woman's softer soul in woe dissolved aloud. 
 Campbell, from The Death of Gertrude. 
 
 Soft sigh the winds of heaven o'er their grave ! 
 While the billow mournful rolls,
 
 117 
 
 And the mermaid's song condoles, 
 Singing glory to the souls 
 Of the brave ! 
 
 Campbell, from The Battle of the Baltic. 
 
 Behold her, single in the field, 
 
 Yon solitary Highland lass ! 
 Reaping and singing by herself. 
 
 Stop here, or gently pass, 
 Alone she cuts and binds the grain, 
 
 And sings a melancholy strain. 
 Oh, listen ! for the vale profound 
 Is overflowing with the sound. 
 No nightingale did ever chant 
 
 So sweetly to reposing bands 
 Of travellers in some shady haunt 
 
 Among Arabian sands ; 
 No sweeter voice was ever heard 
 
 In spring-time from a cuckoo-bird, 
 Breaking the silence of the seas 
 Among the farthest Hebrides. 
 Will no one tell me what she sings? 
 
 Perhaps the plaintive numbers flow 
 For old, unhappy, far-off things, 
 
 And battles long ago ; 
 Or is it some more humble lay, 
 
 Familiar matter of to-day? 
 Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain, 
 That has been, and may be again? 
 Whate'er the theme, the maiden sang 
 
 As if her song could have no ending; 
 I saw her singing at her work, 
 
 And o'er the sickle bending; 
 I listen'd till I had my fill;
 
 118 
 
 And, as I mounted up the hill, 
 The music in my heart I bore, 
 Long after it was heard no more. 
 
 Wordsworth, The Solitary Reaper. 
 
 The way was long, the wind was cold, 
 The minstrel was infirm and old ; 
 His withered cheek and tresses gray 
 Seemed to have known a better day ; 
 The harp, his sole remaining joy, 
 Was carried by an orphan boy. 
 The last of all the bards was he 
 Who sung of Border chivalry. 
 
 No more on prancing palfrey borne, 
 He caroled, light as lark at morn ; 
 No longer courted and caressed, 
 High placed in hall, a welcome guest, 
 He poured to lord and lady gay, 
 The unpremeditated lay. 
 
 Sir Walter Scott, from The Lay of the Last 
 Minstrel. 
 
 They 
 
 . . . . bade the passing knell to toll 
 For welfare of a passing soul. 
 Slow o'er the midnight wave it swung, 
 Northumbrian rocks in answer rung; 
 To Warkworth cell the echoes rolled, 
 His beads the wakeful hermit told; 
 The Bamborough peasant raised his head, 
 But slept ere half a prayer he said ; 
 So far was heard the mighty knell, 
 The stag sprung up on Cheviot Fell,
 
 119 
 
 Spread his broad nostril to the wind, 
 
 Listed before, aside, behind, 
 
 Then couched him down beside the hind, 
 
 And quaked among the mountain fern, 
 
 To hear that sound so dull and stern. 
 
 Sir Walter Scott, from Marmion, Canto ii., st. 33. 
 
 And, hark ! the nightingale begins its song, 
 " Most musical, most melancholy " bird ! 
 A melancholy bird? Oh, idle thought ! 
 In Nature there is nothing melancholy. . . . 
 
 'Tis the merry Nightingale 
 
 That crowds, and hurries, and precipitates 
 With fast thick warble his delicious notes, 
 As he were fearful that an April night 
 Would be too short for him to utter forth 
 His love-chant, and disburthen his full soul 
 Of all its music ! 
 
 Coleridge, from " A Conversation Poem," 
 April, 1798. 
 
 Awake, voice of sweet song ! Awake, my heart ! 
 Awake, green vales and icy cliffs ! All join my 
 
 hymn Let the torrents like a shout of 
 
 nations answer ! and let the ice-plains echo, God 
 God ! Sing, ye meadow streams, with gladsome 
 voice; ye pinegroves, with your soft and soul-like 
 sounds ! And they, too, have a voice, yon piles of 
 snow, and in their perilous fall shall thunder, God ! 
 . . . . great Hierarch ! tell thou the silent sky, 
 and tell the stars, and tell yon rising sun, Earth, 
 with her thousand voices, praises God ! Coleridge, 
 from Hymn Before Sunrise in the Vale of Cha- 
 mouni.
 
 120 
 
 Let me drink of the spirit of that sweet sound; 
 
 More, oh more ! I am thirsting yet ! 
 It loosens the serpent which care has bound 
 
 Upon my heart, to stifle it ; 
 The dissolving strain, through every vein, 
 Passes into my heart and brain. 
 
 Shelley, from Music. 
 
 My soul is dark oh ! quickly string 
 
 The harp I yet can brook to hear ; 
 And let thy gentle fingers fling 
 
 Its melting murmurs o'er mine ear. 
 If in this heart a hope be dear, 
 
 That sound shall charm it forth again ; 
 If in these eyes there lurk a tear, 
 
 'Twill flow, and cease to burn my brain. 
 But bid the strain be wild and deep, 
 
 Nor let thy notes of joy be first : 
 I tell thee, minstrel, I must weep, 
 
 Or else this heavy heart will burst; 
 For it hath been by sorrow nursed, 
 
 And ach'd in sleepless silence long; 
 And now 'tis doom'd to know the worst, 
 
 And break at once or yield to song. 
 
 Byron, from My Soul is Dark. 
 
 The harp the monarch minstrel swept, 
 The King of Men, the loved of Heaven, 
 
 Which Music hallow'd while she wept 
 O'er tones her heart of hearts had given, 
 Redoubled be her tears, its chords are riven ! 
 
 It soften'd men of iron mould; 
 It gave them virtues not their own; 
 
 No ear so dull, no soul so cold,
 
 121 
 
 That felt not, fired not to the tone, 
 
 Till David's lyre grew mightier than his throne. 
 It told the triumphs of our King, 
 
 It wafted glory to our God; 
 It made our gladden'd valleys ring, 
 
 The cedars bow, the mountains nod ; 
 
 Its sound aspired to Heaven and there abode ! 
 Since then, though heard on earth no more, 
 
 Devotion and her daughter Love 
 Still bid the bursting spirit soar 
 
 To sounds that seem as from above, 
 
 In dreams that day's broad light can not remove. 
 Byron, from The Harp the Monarch Minstrel 
 Swept. 
 
 But I have sinuous shells of pearly hue, 
 
 Shake one, and it awakens, then apply 
 Its polish'd lips to your attentive ear, 
 And it remembers its august abodes, 
 And murmurs as the ocean murmurs there. 
 And I have others given me by the nymphs 
 Of sweeter sound than any pipe you have 
 
 Walter Savage Landor, Tamar and the Sea- 
 Nymph, from Gebir. 
 
 A few years ago, when I heard Paganini play on 
 the violin, the subject of wonder with me was the 
 exquisite fineness of his notes. The sounds fell on 
 the ear as if their cause had been purely ethereal. 
 No indication of their material origin could be 
 traced. An angel might be imagined to send forth 
 such strains to mortal ears. The extraordinary 
 development of Paganini's organs of tune and time,
 
 122 
 
 with the extreme sensibility of his nervous system, 
 strongly indicated in his countenance and figure, 
 seems to have been the causes of his attaining this 
 exquisite power. In reflecting on his performance, 
 I was forcibly struck with the idea that until a being 
 constituted like Paganini appeared, we had no 
 means of discovering that the substances, composing 
 a violin and bow were capable of emitting such 
 pure and dulcet sounds ; and that a similar reflection 
 may probably be applicable to the entire sublunary 
 creation. This world may be full of divine quali- 
 ties and delicious harmonies, if we had only 
 superior men to evoke them. And if the case be so, 
 how truly admirable is that constitution of nature 
 which furnishes us with every possible inducement, 
 not only to study itself, but to improve our own 
 qualities, and which presents us with richer trea- 
 sures the further we advance in the discharge of 
 our most pleasing and profitable duties ! George 
 Combe, from The Constitution oj Man, chap iv. 
 
 The bleat of mountain-goat on high, 
 That from the cliff came quavering by; 
 The echoing rock, the rushing flood, 
 The cataract's swell, the moaning wood; 
 The undefined and mingled hum- 
 Voice of the desert never dumb ! 
 All these have left within this heart 
 A feeling tongue can ne'er impart ; 
 A wildered and unearthly flame, 
 A something that's without a name. 
 
 James Hogg, from The Poet's Nurture. 
 
 And, hark the music, mariners
 
 123 
 
 The wind is piping loud; 
 The wind is piping loud, my boys, 
 The lightning flashing free 
 While the hollow oak our palace is, 
 Our heritage the sea. 
 
 Allan Cunningham, from A Wet Sheet and 
 and a Flowing Sea. 
 
 With eyes turned to heaven in calm resignation, 
 They sang their last song to the God of Salvation. 
 The hills with the deep mournful music were 
 
 ringing, 
 
 The curlew and plover in concert were singing ; 
 But the melody died 'mid derision and laughter, 
 As the host of ungodly rushed on to the slaughter. 
 James Hyslop, from The Cameraman's Dream. 
 
 The palm tree waveth high, 
 
 And fair the myrtle springs ; 
 And to the Indian maid 
 
 The bulbul sweetly sings ; 
 But I dinna see the broom 
 
 Wi' its tassels on the lea, 
 Nor hear the lintie's sang, 
 
 O' my ain countrie ! 
 Oh, here no Sabbath bell 
 
 Awakes the Sabbath morn, 
 Nor song of reapers heard 
 
 Amang the yellow corn ; 
 For the tyrant's voice is here, 
 
 And the wail of slaverie, 
 But the sun of freedom shines 
 
 In my ain countrie ! 
 Robert Gilfillan, from The Exile's Song.
 
 124 
 
 There are seven notes in the scale ; make them 
 fourteen ; yet what a slender outfit for so vast an 
 enterprise ! What science brings so much out of 
 so little? Out of what poor elements does some 
 great master in it create his new world ! . . . 
 Is it possible that that inexhaustible evolution and 
 disposition of notes, so rich yet so simple, so intri- 
 cate yet so regulated, so various yet so majestic, 
 should be a mere sound, which is gone and 
 perishes? Can it be that those mysterious stirrings 
 of heart, and keen emotions, and strange yearnings 
 after we know not what, and awful impressions 
 from we know not whence, should be wrought in us 
 by what is unsubstantial, and comes and goes, and 
 begins and ends in itself? It is not so; it cannot 
 be. No, they have escaped from some higher 
 spheres; they are the outpourings of eternal har- 
 mony in the medium of created sound; they are 
 echoes from our home ; they are the voice of angels, 
 or the Magnificat of saints, or the living laws of 
 divine governance, or the divine attributes ; some- 
 thing are they besides themselves, which we cannot 
 compass, which we cannot utter though mortal 
 man, and he perhaps not otherwise distinguished 
 above his fellows, has the gift of eliciting them. 
 John Henry Newman, from Sermons before the 
 University. 
 
 She sings the wild songs of her dear native plains, 
 Every note that he loved awaking 
 
 Ah ! little they think, who delight in her strains, 
 How the heart of the minstrel is breaking ! 
 
 Moore, from She is Far from the Land.
 
 125 
 
 Sing sing Music was given 
 
 To brighten the gay and kindle the loving; 
 Souls here, like planets in Heaven, 
 
 By harmony's laws alone are kept moving. 
 
 Moore. 
 
 When thro' life unblest we rove, 
 
 Loving all that made life dear, 
 Should some notes we used to love 
 
 In days of boyhood meet our ear, 
 Oh ! how welcome breathes the strain, 
 
 Wakening thoughts that long have slept, 
 Kindling former smiles again 
 
 In faded eyes that long have wept ! 
 Like the gale, that sighs along 
 
 Beds of oriental flowers, 
 Is the grateful breath of song, 
 
 That once was heard in happier hours ; 
 Fill'd with balm, the gale sighs on, 
 
 Though the flowers have sunk in death ; 
 So, when Pleasure's dream is gone, 
 
 Its memory lives in Music's breath. 
 Music ! oh, how faint, how weak, 
 
 Language fades before thy spell ! 
 Why should feeling ever speak, 
 
 When thou canst breathe her soul so well? 
 Friendship's balmy words may feign, 
 
 Love's are even more false than they ; 
 Oh ! 'tis only Music's strain 
 
 Can sweetly soothe, and not betray. 
 
 Moore, On Music. 
 
 But the gentlest of all are those sounds full of feeling 
 That soft from the lute of some lover are stealing,
 
 126 
 
 Some lover who knows all the heart-touching power 
 Of a lute and a sigh in the magical hour. 
 
 Moore. 
 How sweet the answer Echo makes 
 
 To music at night, 
 
 When roused by lute or horn, she wakes, 
 And, far away, o'er lawns and lakes, 
 Goes answering light ! 
 
 Moore, from Echo. 
 
 Dear Harp of my Country ! in darkness I found 
 
 thee, 
 
 The cold chain of silence had hung o'er thee long, 
 When, proudly, my own Island Harp, I unbound 
 
 thee, 
 
 And gave all my chords to light, freedom, and song. 
 The warm lay of love and the light note of gladness 
 Have waken'd thy fondest, thy liveliest thrill ; 
 But so oft hast thou echo'd the deep sigh of sadness, 
 That ev'n in thy mirth it will steal from thee still. 
 Dear Harp of my Country ! farewell to thy num- 
 bers, 
 
 This sweet wreath of song is the last we shall twine ; 
 Go sleep with the sunshine of Fame on thy slumbers 
 Till touched by some hand less unworthy than 
 
 mine; 
 
 If the pulse of the patriot, soldier, or lover 
 Have throbb'd at our lay, 'tis thy glory alone; 
 I was but as the wind passing heedlessly over, 
 And all the wild sweetness I wak'd was thy own. 
 
 Moore. 
 
 Oh, Native Music ! beyond comparing, 
 The sweetest far on the ear that falls;
 
 127 
 
 Thy gentle numbers the heart remembers, 
 Thy strains enchain us in tender thralls. 
 Thy tones endearing, 
 Or sad, or cheering, 
 The absent soothe on a foreign strand ; 
 Ah ! who can tell 
 What a holy spell 
 Is in the song of our native land? 
 The proud and lowly, the pilgrim holy, 
 
 The lover, kneeling at Beauty's shrine; 
 The bard who dreams by the haunted streams ; 
 All, all are touch'd by thy power divine ! 
 The captive cheerless, 
 The soldier fearless ; 
 The mother taught by Nature's hand 
 Her child when weeping 
 Will lull to sleeping, 
 With some sweet song of her native land ! 
 
 Samuel Lover. 
 
 I see her still, that fair enchantress, 
 As first my eyes upon her fell ; 
 I hear her rich voice clear and pealing, 
 Into my heart's depths sweetly stealing, 
 Till tears relieve the quickened feeling. 
 How I was moved I cannot tell. 
 Away to dreamland I was wafted. 
 Heine, On hearing a Lady Sing an Old Ballad 
 (Translated by Sir Theodore Martin). 
 
 Music is the mediator between the spiritual and 
 the sensual life; although the spirit be not master 
 of that which it creates through music, yet it is 
 blessed in this creation, which, like every creation
 
 128 
 
 of art, is mightier than the artist. Beethoven. 
 
 Poet and Musician they are One. For each 
 knows and feels what the other feels and knows. 
 Wagner, from Prose Works, translated by Wm. 
 Ashton Ellis. 
 
 It is only when the heart of him is rapt into true 
 passion of melody, and the very tones of him, 
 according to Coleridge's remark, become musical 
 by the greatness, depth, and music of his thoughts, 
 that we can give him right to rhyme and sing; that 
 we call him a Poet and listen to him as the Heroic 
 of Speakers whose speech is Song. Carlyle, from 
 Heroes, &c. 
 
 He feels the music of the skies the while his heart 
 
 is breaking ; 
 He sings the songs of Paradise, where love has no 
 
 forsaking ; 
 And, though so deaf, he (Beethoven) cannot hear 
 
 the tempest as a token, 
 He makes the music of his mind the grandest ever 
 
 spoken. 
 
 Eric Mackay, Love Letters of a Violinist. 
 
 Which is the greater, Mozart or Beethoven? 
 Idle question ! The one is more perfect, the other 
 more colossal. The first gives you the peace of 
 perfect art, beauty at first sight. The second gives 
 you sublimity, terror, pity, a beauty of second 
 impression. The one gives that for which the 
 other rouses a desire. Mozart has the classic purity 
 of light and the blue ocean; Beethoven the 
 romantic grandeur which belongs to the storms of
 
 129 
 
 air and sea, and while the soul of Mozart seems to 
 dwell on the ethereal peaks of Olympus, that of 
 Beethoven climbs, shuddering, to the storm-beaten 
 sides of a Sinai. Blessed be they both ! Each 
 represents a moment of the ideal life, each does us 
 good. Our love is due to both. Amiel, Translated 
 by Mrs. Humphrey Ward. 
 
 I had conceived, ever since I had studied the life 
 and works of Chopin, the greatest desire to hear him 
 
 played by Liszt Again in that 
 
 room, with its long bright window opening out into 
 the summer-land, we sat in deep shadow in perfect 
 seclusion ; not a sound, but the magic notes falling 
 at first like a soft shower of pearls or liquid drops 
 from a fountain blown spray falling hither and 
 thither, and changing into rainbow-tints in its 
 passage, as the harmonic progression kept changing 
 and tossing the fugitive fragments of melody with 
 which that exquisite Nocturne opens, until it settles 
 into the calm, happy dream, which seems to rock 
 the listener to sleep with the deep and perfect 
 benison of ineffable rest; then out of the dream, 
 through a few bars, like the uneasy consciousness of 
 a slowly awakening sleeper, and again the interlude, 
 the blown rain of double pearls until once more 
 the heavenly dream is resumed. I drew my chair 
 gently nearer; I almost held my breath, not to 
 miss a note. There was a strange concentrated 
 anticipation about Liszt's playing, unlike anything 
 I had ever heard not for a moment could the ear 
 cease listening; each note seemed prophetic of the 
 next, each yielded in importance to the next ; one
 
 130 
 
 felt that in the soul of the player the whole 
 Nocturne existed from the beginning as one and 
 indivisible, like a poem in the heart of a poet. The 
 playing of the bars had to be gone through 
 seriatim; but there were glimpses of a higher state 
 of intuition, in which one could read thoughts 
 without words, and possess the soul of music, with- 
 out the intervention of bars and keys and strings ; 
 all the mere elements seemed to fade, nothing but 
 perception remained. Sense of time vanished ; all 
 was, as it were, realised in a moment, that moment 
 the Present the eternal Present no Past, no 
 Future. Yet I could not help noticing each inci- 
 dent : the perfect, effortless independence of the 
 fingers, mere obedient ministers of the master's 
 thought ; the complete trance of the player, . . ; 
 and I had time to notice the unconscious habits of 
 the master. ... So I noticed the first finger 
 and thumb drawn together to emphasise a note, or 
 fingers, mere obedient ministers of the master's 
 manner, with a gentle sweep in the middle of a 
 phrase things in which those who are determined 
 to be like the master can be like him though in 
 nothing else; also the peculiar repercussion reson- 
 ance, since reduced to something like a science by 
 Rubenstein, and the caressing touch, which seemed 
 to draw the soul oj the piano out of it almost before 
 the finger reached the keyboard. When Liszt 
 passed silently to op. 48, he arrived at some stiff 
 bravura passages, which called forth his old vigour. 
 Yet here all was perfect ; not a note slurred over 
 or missed; the old thunder woke beneath his out- 
 stretched hands ; the spirits of the vasty deep were
 
 131 
 
 as obedient as ever to their master's call. With 
 the last chord he rose abruptly; abruptly we came 
 out of the dim, enchanted land of dreams; the 
 common light of day was once more around me. 
 H. R. Haweis (from " My Musical Life "). 
 
 I heard a noble service in one of the parish 
 churches yesterday, and an hour and a half of mag- 
 nificent organ and chorus three organs answering 
 each other, and the whole congregation joining as 
 Italians can do always in perfect melody . . . 
 every possible power of music used to its fullest 
 extent the best pieces chosen out of standard 
 operas, and every variety of style, exciting, tender, 
 and sublime given with ceaseless and overwhelm- 
 ing effect ; one solo unimaginably perfect, by a 
 chosen voice, thrilling through darkness. All 
 music should be heard in obscurity. Ruskin, 
 Music in Italy. 
 
 Thy sacred song is like the trump of doom ; 
 Yet in thy heart what human sympathies, 
 What soft compassion glows. 
 
 Longfellow, Dante. 
 
 Alas ! how changed from the fair scene, 
 
 When birds sang out their mellow lay, 
 And winds were soft, and woods were green, 
 
 And the song ceased not with the day ! 
 But still wild music is abroad, 
 
 Pale, desert woods ! within your crowd ; 
 And gathering winds, in hoarse accord, 
 
 Amid the vocal reeds pipe loud. 
 
 Longfellow, from Woods in Winter.
 
 132 
 
 and her silver voice 
 
 Is the rich music of a summer bird, 
 Heard in the still night, with its passionate cadence. 
 Longfellow, from The Spirit of Poetry. 
 
 When first in ancient time, from JubaFs tongue 
 The tuneful anthem filled the morning air, 
 To sacred hymnings and elysian song 
 His music-breathing shell the minstrel woke. 
 Devotion breathed aloud from every chord : 
 The voice of praise was heard in every tone, 
 And prayer and thanks to Him, the Eternal One, 
 To Him, that with bright inspiration touched 
 The high and gifted lyre of heavenly song, 
 And warmed the soul with new vitality. 
 A stirring energy through Nature breathed : 
 The voice of adoration from her broke, 
 
 Men felt the heavenly influence, and it stole 
 Like balm into their hearts, till all was peace; 
 And even the air they breathed, the light they saw, 
 Became religion; for the ethereal spirit 
 That to soft music wakes the chords of feeling, 
 And mellows everything to beauty, moved 
 With cheering energy within their breasts, 
 And made all holy there, for all was love. 
 The morning stars, that sweetly sang together; 
 The moon, that hung at night in the mid-sky; 
 Dayspring and eventide; and all the fair 
 And beautiful forms of nature, had a voice 
 Of eloquent worship. Ocean, with its tides 
 Swelling and deep, where low the infant storm 
 Hung on his dun, dark cloud, and heavily beat
 
 133 
 
 The pulses of the sea, sent forth a voice 
 Of awful adoration to the spirit 
 That, wrapt in darkness, moved upon its face, 
 And when the bow of evening arched the east, 
 Or, in the moonlight pale, the curling wave 
 Kissed with a sweet embrace the sea-worn beach, 
 And soft the song of winds came o'er the waters, 
 The mingled melody of wind and wave 
 Touched like a heavenly anthem on the ear; 
 For it arose a tuneful hymn of worship. 
 And have our hearts grown cold? 
 
 Longfellow, from Thanksgiving. 
 
 He hears his daughter's voice 
 
 Singing in the village choir, 
 
 And it makes his heart rejoice ; 
 
 It sounds to him like her mother's voice 
 
 Singing in Paradise ! 
 Longfellow, from The Village Blacksmith. 
 
 Soft music breathes around, and dies 
 
 On the calm bosom of the sea, 
 Whilst in her cell the novice sighs 
 
 Her vespers to her rosary. 
 Longfellow, from The Venetian Gondolier. 
 
 But amid my broken slumbers 
 Still I heard those magic numbers, 
 As they loud proclaimed the flight 
 And stolen marches of the night ; 
 Till their chimes in sweet collision 
 Mingled with each wandering vision ;
 
 134 
 
 And I thought how like these chimes 
 Are the poet's airy rhymes, 
 All his rhymes and roundelays, 
 His conceits, and songs, and ditties, 
 From the belfry of his brain, 
 Scattered downward, though in vain, 
 On the roofs and stones of cities ! 
 For by night the drowsy ear 
 Under its curtains cannot hear, 
 And by day men go their ways, 
 Hearing the music as they pass, 
 But deeming it no more, alas ! 
 Than the hollow sound of brass. 
 
 Longfellow, from The Belfry of Bruges. 
 
 And those who heard the Singers three 
 
 Disputed which the best might be ; 
 
 For still their music seemed to start 
 
 Discordant echoes in each heart. 
 
 But the great Master said, " I see 
 
 No best in kind, but in degree ; 
 
 I gave a various gift to each, 
 
 To charm, to strengthen, and to teach. 
 
 These are the three great chords of might, 
 
 And he whose ear is tuned aright 
 
 Will hear no discord in the three, 
 
 But the most perfect harmony." 
 
 Longfellow, from The Singers. 
 
 Most beloved by Hiawatha 
 Was the gentle Chibiabos,
 
 135 
 
 He the best of all musicians, 
 He the sweetest of all singers. 
 
 All the many sounds of nature 
 Borrowed sweetness from his singing; 
 All the hearts of men were softened 
 By the pathos of his music; 
 For he sang of peace and freedom, 
 Sang of beauty, love, and longing ; 
 Sang of death and life undying 
 In the Islands of the Blessed, 
 In the Kingdom of Ponemah, 
 In the land of the Hereafter. 
 Longfellow, from The Song of Hiawatha, vi. 
 
 A Poet, too, was there, whose verse 
 Was tender, musical, and terse; 
 The inspiration, the delight, 
 The gleam, the glory, the swift flight 
 Of thoughts so sudden, that they seem 
 The revelations of a dream. 
 Longfellow, from The Prelude Tales of a 
 Wayside Inn. 
 
 He played ; at first the tones were pure 
 
 And tender as a summer night, 
 
 The full moon climbing to her height, 
 
 The sob and ripple of the seas, 
 
 The flapping of an idle sail ; 
 
 And then by sudden and sharp degrees 
 
 The multiplied, wild harmonies 
 
 Freshened and burst into a gale; 
 
 A tempest howling through the dark,
 
 136 
 
 A crash as of some shipwreck bark, 
 A loud and melancholy wail. 
 Such was the prelude to the tale 
 Told by the Minstrel ; and at times 
 He paused amid its varying rhymes, 
 And at each pause again broke in 
 The music of his violin, 
 With tones of sweetness or of fear, 
 Movements of trouble or of calm, 
 Creating their own atmosphere; 
 As sitting in a church we hear 
 Between the verses of the psalm 
 The organ playing soft and clear, 
 Or thundering on the startled ear. 
 
 Longfellow, from Interlude Tales of a 
 Wayside Inn. 
 
 I heard the bells on Christmas Day 
 Their old, familiar carols play, 
 And wild and sweet 
 The woods repeat, 
 Of peace on earth, goodwill to men ! 
 
 Longfellow, from Christmas Bells, 
 
 O curfew of the setting sun ! O Bells of Lynn ! 
 O requiem of the dying day ! O Bells of Lynn ! 
 From the dark belfries of yon cloud-cathedral 
 
 wafted, 
 
 Your sounds aerial seem to float, O Bells of Lynn ! 
 Longfellow, from The Bells of Lynn. 
 
 I see amid the fields of Ayr 
 A ploughman, who in foul and fair 
 Sings at his task.
 
 137 
 
 So clear, we know not if it is 
 The laverock's song we hear, or his, 
 
 Nor care to ask. . . . 
 
 the music of his song 
 
 Is love of right, disdain of wrong; 
 
 Its master-chords 
 
 Are Manhood, Freedom, Brotherhood; 
 Its discords but an interlude 
 
 Between the words. 
 
 Longfellow, from Robert Burns. 
 
 ELSIE : The night is calm and cloudless, 
 And still as still can be, 
 And the stars come forth to listen 
 To the music of the sea. 
 They gather, and gather, and gather, 
 Until they crowd the sky, 
 And listen in breathless silence 
 To the solemn litany. 
 It begins in rocky caverns, 
 As a voice that chants alone 
 To the pedals of the organ 
 In monotonous undertone ; 
 And anon from shelving beaches, 
 And shallow sands beyond, 
 In snow-white robes uprising 
 The ghostly choirs respond. 
 And sadly and unceasing 
 The mournful voice sings on, 
 And the snow-white choirs still answer 
 Christe eleison ! 
 
 PRINCE HENRY : Angel of God ! thy finer sense per- 
 ceives
 
 \ 
 
 138 
 
 Celestial and perpetual harmonies ! 
 
 Thy purer soul, that trembles and believes, 
 
 Hears the archangel's trumpet in the breeze, 
 
 And where the forest rolls, or ocean heaves, 
 
 Cecilia's organ sounding in the seas, 
 
 And tongues of prophets speaking in the leaves. 
 
 But I hear discord only and despair, 
 
 And whispers as of demons in the air ! 
 
 Longfellow, from The Golden Legend. 
 
 The grand, majestic symphonies of ocean. 
 
 Longfellow, from Dedication By the Seaside. 
 
 Hark ! then roll forth at once the mighty tones of 
 
 the organ, 
 Hover like voices from God, aloft like invisible 
 
 spirits. 
 Like as Elias in Heaven, when he cast from off him 
 
 his mantle, 
 So cast off the soul its garments of earth ; and with 
 
 one voice 
 Chimed in the congregation, and sang an anthem 
 
 immortal 
 Of the sublime Wallin, of David's harp in the 
 
 North-land 
 Tuned to the choral of Luther ; the song on its 
 
 mighty pinions 
 Took every living soul, and lifted it gently to 
 
 Heaven, 
 And each face did shine like the Holy One's face 
 
 upon Tabor. 
 
 Esaias Tegner, from The Children of the Lord's 
 Supper (Longfellow's Translation).
 
 139 
 
 . . . . the solemn oak-tree sigheth, 
 
 Thick-leaved, ambrosial, 
 
 With an ancient melody 
 
 Of an inward agony, 
 
 Where Claribel low-lieth. 
 
 At eve the beetle boometh 
 
 Athwart the thicket lone : 
 
 At noon the wild-bee hummeth 
 
 About the moss'd headstone : 
 
 Her song the lintwhite swelleth, 
 The clear-voiced mavis dwelleth, 
 The callow throstle lispeth, 
 The slumbrous wave outwelleth, 
 The babbling runnel crispeth, 
 The hollow-grot replieth 
 Where Claribel low-lieth. 
 
 Tennyson, from Claribel. 
 
 Sure she was nigher to heaven's spheres, 
 Listening the lordly music flowing from 
 The illimitable years. 
 
 And like a bride of old 
 
 In triumph led, 
 With music and sweet showers 
 
 Of festal flowers. 
 -Tennyson, from Ode to Memory. 
 
 . . . . They heard her singing her last song, 
 
 The Lady of Shalott. 
 Heard a carol, mournful, holy, 
 Chanted loudly, chanted lowly, 
 Till her blood was frozen slowly,
 
 140 
 
 And her eyes were darken'd wholly 
 
 Turn'd to tower'd Camelot. 
 For ere she reach'd upon the tide 
 The first house by the water-side, 
 Singing in her song she died, 
 
 The Lady of Shalott. 
 
 Tennyson, from The Lady of Shalott. 
 
 And, in the pauses of the wind, 
 Sometimes I heard you sing within. 
 Tennyson, from The Miller's Daughter. 
 The clouds are broken in the sky, 
 
 And thro' the mountain-walls 
 A rolling organ-harmony 
 Swells up, and shakes, and falls. 
 
 Tennyson, from Sir Galahad. 
 
 Then methought I heard a mellow sound, 
 Gathering up from all the lower ground; 
 Narrowing in to where they sat assembled 
 Low voluptuous music, winding, trembled, 
 
 Wov'n in circles 
 
 Then the music touch'd the gates and died; 
 Rose again from where it seem'd to fail, 
 Storm'd in orbs of song, a growing gale ; 
 Till thronging in and in, to where they waited, 
 As 'twere a hundred-throated nightingale, 
 The strong tempestuous treble throbb'd and palpi- 
 tated ; 
 Ran into its giddiest whirl of sound, 
 
 Then they started from their places, 
 Caught each other with wild grimaces,
 
 141 
 
 Wheeling with precipitate paces 
 
 To the melody; 
 
 Till, kill'd with some luxurious agony, 
 The nerve-dissolving melody 
 Flutter'd headlong from the sky. 
 
 Tennyson, from The Vision of Sin. 
 
 And he sat him down in a lonely place, 
 
 And chanted a melody loud and sweet, 
 That made the wild-swan pause in her cloud, 
 
 And the lark drop down at his feet. 
 The swallow stopt as he hunted the fly, 
 
 The snake slipt under a spray, 
 The wild hawk stood with the down on his beak, 
 
 And stared, with his foot on the prey; 
 And the nightingale thought, " I have sung many 
 songs, 
 
 But never a one so gay, 
 For he sings of what the world will be 
 
 When the years have died away." 
 
 Tennyson, from The Poet's Song. 
 The league-long roller thundering on the reef, 
 
 The hollower-bellowing ocean. 
 
 -Tennyson, from Enoch Arden. 
 
 I chatter over stony ways, 
 In little sharps and trebles, 
 
 I babble on the pebbles. 
 
 I chatter, chatter, as I flow. 
 
 Tennyson, from The Brook.
 
 142 
 
 the children call, and I 
 
 Thy shepherd pipe, and sweet is every sound, 
 Sweeter thy voice, but every sound is sweet ; 
 Myriads of rivulets hurrying thro' the lawn, 
 The moan of doves in immemorial elms, 
 And murmuring of innumerable bees. 
 
 O hark, O hear ! how thin and clear, 
 And thinner, clearer, farther going ! 
 O sweet and far from cliff and scar 
 The horns of Elfland faintly blowing ! 
 Blow, let us hear the purple glens replying : 
 Blow, bugle; answer, echoes; dying, dying, dying. 
 O love, they die in yon rich sky ! 
 They faint on hill or field or river : 
 Our echoes roll from soul to soul, 
 And grow for ever and for ever. 
 Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying ! 
 And answer, echoes; answer; dying, dying, dying. 
 Tennyson, from The Princess. 
 
 Let the bell be toll'd : 
 
 And a deeper knell in the heart be knolPd; 
 
 And the sound of the sorrowing anthem roll'd 
 
 Through the dome of the golden cross; 
 
 And the volleying cannon thunder his loss; 
 
 He knew their voices of old. 
 
 For many a time in many a clime 
 
 His captain's ear has heard them boom, 
 
 Bellowing victory, bellowing doom. 
 
 Now to the roll of muffled drums, 
 
 To thee (Lord Nelson) the greatest soldier comes;
 
 143 
 
 Hush ! the Dead March wails in the people's ears; 
 
 there are sobs and tears ; 
 
 The black earth yawns. 
 
 Tennyson, from Ode on the Death of the 
 Duke of Wellington. 
 
 Make music, O bird, in the new-budded bowers ! 
 Warble, O bugle, and trumpet blare ! 
 
 Utter your jubilee, steeple and spire ! 
 Clash, ye bells, in the merry March air ! 
 
 Roll and rejoice, jubilant voice, 
 
 Roll as a ground-swell dash'd on the strand, 
 
 Roar as the sea when he welcomes the land, 
 
 And welcome her, welcome the land's desire, 
 
 The Sea-King's daughter as happy as fair, 
 
 Blissful bride of a blissful heir, 
 
 Bride of the heir of the Kings of the Sea. 
 
 -Tennyson, from A Welcome to Alexandra. 
 
 O mighty-mouth'd inventor of harmonies, 
 O skill'd to sing of Time or Eternity, 
 God-gifted organ-voice of England, 
 Milton, a name to resound for ages ! 
 
 Tennyson, from Milton. 
 
 For I am but an earthly Muse, 
 And owning but a little art 
 To lull with song an aching heart, 
 And render human love his dues. 
 
 Tennyson, from In Memoriam, xxxvii.
 
 144 
 
 And heard once more in college fanes, 
 The storm their high-built organs make, 
 And thunder-music, rolling, shake 
 The prophet blazon'd on the panes. 
 
 Tennyson, from In Memoriam, Ixxxvii. 
 Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky, 
 
 Ring, happy bells, across the snow : 
 
 Ring out, ring out my mournful rhymes, 
 But ring the fuller minstrel in. 
 
 Tennyson, from In Memoriam, cvi. 
 
 A voice by the cedar-tree 
 
 In the meadow under the Hall ! 
 
 She is singing an air that is known to me, 
 
 A passionate ballad gallant and gay, 
 
 A martial song like a trumpet's call ! 
 
 Singing alone in the morning of life, 
 
 In the happy morning of life and of May, 
 
 Singing of men that in battle array, 
 
 Ready in heart, and ready in hand, 
 
 March with banner and bugle and fife 
 
 To the death, for their native land. 
 
 Tennyson, from Maud. 
 
 And while he waited in the castle court, 
 The voice of Enid, Yniol's daughter, rang i 
 Clear thro' the open casement of the hall, 
 Singing ; and as the sweet voice of a bird, 
 Heard by the lander in a lonely isle, 
 Moves him to think what kind of bird it is 
 That sings so delicately clear, and make 
 Conjecture of the plumage and the form ;
 
 145 
 
 So the sweet voice of Enid moved Geraint. 
 Tennyson, from The Marriage of Geraint. 
 
 O ! never harp nor horn, 
 
 Nor aught we blow with breath, or touch with hand, 
 Was like that music as it came. 
 
 Tennyson, from The Holy Grail. 
 
 and from them rose 
 
 A cry that shiver'd to the tingling stars, 
 
 And as it were one voice, an agony 
 
 Of lamentation, like a wind that shrills 
 
 All night in a waste land, where no one comes, 
 
 Or hath come, since the making of the world. 
 
 Tennyson, from The Passing of Arthur. 
 
 They have left the doors ajar ; and by their clash, 
 And prelude on the keys, I know the song, 
 Their favourite, which I call " The Tables Turned." 
 Evelyn begins it " O diviner Air." 
 
 Edith" 6 diviner light.'* 
 
 Marvellously like, their voices ! 
 
 Tennyson, from The Sisters. 
 
 I salute thee, Mantovano, 
 I that loved thee since my day began, 
 Wielder of the stateliest measure 
 Ever moulded by the lips of man. 
 
 Tennyson, from To Virgil. 
 
 The great sphere music of stars and of constella- 
 tions. 
 
 Tennyson, from Parnassus.
 
 146 
 
 What sound was dearest in his native dells? 
 The mellow lin-lan-lone of evening bells. 
 Far far away. 
 
 Tennyson, from Far Far Away. 
 
 The toll of funeral in an Angel ear 
 
 Sounds happier than the merriest marriage bell. 
 
 no discordance in the roll 
 
 And march of that Eternal Harmony 
 Whereto the worlds beat time, tho' faintly heard 
 Until the great Hereafter ! 
 
 Tennyson, from The Death of the Duke of 
 Clarence and Avondale. 
 
 Thou that hast been in England many a year, 
 The interpreter who left us nought to seek, 
 Making Beethoven's inmost passion speak, 
 Bringing the soul of great Sebastian near, 
 Their music liveth ever, and 'tis just 
 That thou, good Joachim, so high thy skill, 
 Rank (as thou shalt upon the heavenly hill) 
 Laurel'd with them, for thy ennobling trust 
 Remember'd when thy loving hand is still 
 And every ear that heard thee stopt with dust. 
 
 Robert Bridges, from To Joseph Joachim. 
 
 Myriad-voiced Queen, Enchantress of the air, 
 Bride of the life of man ! 
 
 To me, to me, fair-hearted Goddess, come ; 
 To Sorrow come, 
 
 Where by the grave I linger dumb ; 
 
 With sorrow bow thine head, 
 For all my beauty is dead,
 
 147 
 
 Leave Freedom's vaunt and playful thought awhile, 
 
 Come with thine unimpassioned smile 
 
 Of heavenly peace, and with thy fourfold choir 
 
 Of fair uncloying harmony 
 Unveil the palaces where man's desire 
 
 Keepeth celestial solemnity 
 Robert Bridges, from Ode to Music. 
 
 FINIS.
 
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