Books > Old Books > The Golden Treasury (1932)


Page 141

BOOK THIRD
141 THE PASSIONS - An Ode for Music

When Music, heavenly maid, was young,
While yet in early Greece she sung,
The Passions oft, to hear her shell,
Throng'd around her magic cell
Exulting, trembling, raging, fainting,
Possest beyond the Muse's painting;
By turns they felt the glowing mind
Disturb'd, delighted, rais'd, refin'd:
Till once, 'tis said, when all were fir'd,
Fill'd with fury, rapt, inspir'd,
From the supporting myrtles round
They snatch'd her instruments of sound,
And, as they oft had heard apart
Sweet lessons of her forceful art,
Each, for Madness ruled the hour,
Would prove his own expressive power.

First Fear his hand, its skill to try,
Amid the chords bewilder'd laid,
And back recoil'd, he knew not why,
E'en at the sound himself had made.

Next Anger rush'd, his eyes on fire,
In lightnings own 'd his secret stings;
In one rude clash he struck the lyre
And swept with hurried hand the strings.

With woeful measures wan Despair,
Low sullen sounds, his grief beguiled,
A solemn, strange, and mingled air,
'Twas sad by fits, by starts 'twas wild.

But thou, 0 Hope, with eyes so fair,
What was thy delightful measure?
Still it whisper'd promised pleasure
And bade the lovely scenes at distance hail!

Still would her touch the strain prolong;
And from the rocks, the woods, the vale,
She call'd on Echo still through all the song;
And, where her sweetest theme she chose,
A soft responsive voice was heard at every close;
And Hope enchanted smiled, and waved her golden hair.

And longer had she sung,-but with a frown
Revenge impatient rose:
He threw his blood-stain'd sword in thunder down;
And with a withering look
The war-denouncing trumpet took,
And blew a blast so loud and dread,
Were ne'er prophetic sounds so full of woe.
And ever and anon he beat
The doubling drum with furious heat;
And, though sometimes, each dreary pause between,
Dejected Pity at his side
Her soul-subduing voice applied,
Yet still he kept his wild unalter'd mien,
While each strain'd ball of sight seem'd bursting from his head.

Thy numbers, jealousy, to nought were fix'd:
Sad proof of thy distressful state!
Of differing themes the veering song was mix'd;
And now it courted Love, now raving call'd on Hate.

With eyes up-rais'd, as one inspir'd,
Pale Melancholy sat retir'd;
And from her wild sequester'd seat,
In notes by distance made more sweet,
Pour'd through the mellow horn her pensive soul:
And dashing soft from rocks around
Bubbling runnels join'd the sound;
Through glades and glooms the mingled measure stole,

Or, o'er some haunted stream, with fond delay,
Round an holy calm diffusing,
Love of peace and lonely musing,
In hollow murmurs died away.

But 0! how alter'd was its sprightlier tone,
When Cheerfulness, a nymph of healthiest hue,
Her bow across her shoulder flung,
Her buskins gemm'd with morning dew,
Blew an inspiring air, that dale and thicket rung,
The hunter's call to Faun and Dryad known!
The oak-crown'd Sisters and their chaste-eyed Queen,
Satyrs and Sylvan Boys, were seen
Peeping from forth their alleys green:
Brown Exercise rejoic'd to hear;
And Sport leap'd up, and seiz'd his beechen spear.

Last came joy's ecstatic trial:
He, with viny crown advancing,
First to the lively pipe his hand addrest:
But soon he saw the brisk awak'ning viol,
Whose sweet entrancing voice he lov'd the best:
They would have thought who heard the strain
They saw, in Tempe's vale, her native maids
Amidst the festal-sounding shades
To some unwearied minstrel dancing;
While, as his flying fingers kiss'd the strings,
Love fram'd with Mirth a gay fantastic round:
Loose were her tresses seen, her zone unbound;
And he, amidst his frolic play,
As if he would the charming air repay,
Shook thousand odours from his dewy wings.

O Music! sphere-descended maid,
Friend of Pleasure, Wisdom's aid!
Why, goddess, why, to us denied,
Lay'st thou thy ancient lyre aside?
As in that lov'd Athenian bower
You learn'd an all-commanding power,
Thy mimic soul, 0 nymph endear'd,
Can well recall what then it heard.
Where is thy native simple heart
Devote to Virtue, Fancy, Art?
Arise, as in that elder time,
Warm, energic, chaste, sublime!

Thy wonders in that god-like age
Fill thy recording Sister's page;
Tis said, and I believe the tale,
Thy humblest reed could more prevail,
Had more of strength, diviner rage,
Than all which charms this laggard age,
E'en all at once together found,
Cecilia's mingled world of sound:
O bid our vain endeavours cease:
Revive the just designs of Greece:
Return in all thy simple state!
Confirm the tales her sons relate!
W. COLLINS.

travel books:
where is HTML where is HEAD where is TITLE When Music, heavenly maid, was young, While yet in early Greece she sung, what is Passions oft, to hear her shell, Throng'd around her magic cell Exulting, trembling, raging, fainting, Possest beyond what is Muse's painting; By turns they felt what is glowing mind Disturb'd, delighted, rais'd, refin'd: Till once, 'tis said, when all were fir'd, Fill'd with fury, rapt, inspir'd, From what is supporting myrtles round They snatch'd her instruments of sound, And, as they oft had heard apart Sweet lessons of her forceful art, Each, for Madness ruled what is hour, Would prove his own expressive power. First Fear his hand, its s what time is it to try, Amid what is chords bewilder'd laid, And back recoil'd, he knew not why, E'en at what is sound himself had made. Next Anger rush'd, his eyes on fire, In lightnings own 'd his secret stings; In one rude clash he struck what is lyre And swept with hurried hand what is strings. With woeful measur where is meta name="keywords" content="old books, Free book , free book offer , free audio books , free coloring book pages , free book reports , free audio book , audio books free download , book free , free guest book , books free , free book summaries , download free audio books , free childrens books." where is where are they now rel="stylesheet" type="text/css" href="../../style.css" where is meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1" where is BODY bgColor=#ffffff text="#000000" where are they now ="#000000" v where are they now ="#FF0000" where is div align="center" where is strong where is strong where is a href="http://www.aaoldbooks.com" Books > where is a href="../default.asp" title="Book" Old Books > where is strong where is a href="default.asp" The Golden Treasury (1932) where is table width="700" border="1" align="center" cellpadding="15" cellspacing="0" where is center where is tr where is td width="160" align="center" valign="top" where is div align="center" where is td align="center" valign="top" where is div align="left" where is div align="center" where is p align="left" Page 141 where is strong BOOK THIRD where is strong 141 what is PASSIONS - An Ode for Music where is p align="justify" When Music, heavenly maid, was young, While yet in early Greece she sung, what is Passions oft, to hear her shell, Throng'd around her magic cell Exulting, trembling, raging, fainting, Possest beyond what is Muse's painting; By turns they felt what is glowing mind Disturb'd, delighted, rais'd, refin'd: Till once, 'tis said, when all were fir'd, Fill'd with fury, rapt, inspir'd, From the supporting myrtles round They snatch'd her instruments of sound, And, as they oft had heard apart Sweet lessons of her forceful art, Each, for Madness ruled what is hour, Would prove his own expressive power. First Fear his hand, its s what time is it to try, Amid what is chords bewilder'd laid, And back recoil'd, he knew not why, E'en at what is sound himself had made. Next Anger rush'd, his eyes on fire, In lightnings own 'd his secret stings; In one rude clash he struck what is lyre And swept with hurried hand what is strings. With woeful measures wan Despair, Low sullen sounds, his grief beguiled, A solemn, strange, and mingled air, 'Twas sad by fits, by starts 'twas wild. But thou, 0 Hope, with eyes so fair, What was thy delightful measure? Still it whisper'd promised pleasure And bade what is lovely scenes at distance hail! Still would her touch what is strain prolong; And from what is rocks, what is woods, what is vale, She call'd on Echo still through all what is song; And, where her sweetest theme she chose, A soft responsive voice was heard at every close; And Hope enchanted smiled, and waved her golden hair. And longer had she sung,-but with a frown Revenge impatient rose: He threw his blood-stain'd sword in thunder down; And with a withering look what is war-denouncing trumpet took, And blew a blast so loud and dread, Were ne'er prophetic sounds so full of woe. And ever and anon he beat what is doubling drum with furious heat; And, though sometimes, each dreary pause between, Dejected Pity at his side Her soul-subduing voice applied, Yet still he kept his wild unalter'd mien, While each strain'd ball of sight seem'd bursting from his head. Thy numbers, jealousy, to nought were fix'd: Sad proof of thy distressful state! Of differing themes what is veering song was mix'd; And now it courted Love, now raving call'd on Hate. With eyes up-rais'd, as one inspir'd, Pale Melancholy sat retir'd; And from her wild sequester'd seat, In notes by distance made more sweet, Pour'd through what is mellow horn her pensive soul: And dashing soft from rocks around Bubbling runnels join'd what is sound; Through glades and glooms what is mingled measure stole, Or, o'er some haunted stream, with fond delay, Round an holy calm diffusing, what time is it of peace and lonely musing, In hollow murmurs died away. But 0! how alter'd was its sprightlier tone, When Cheerfulness, a nymph of healthiest hue, Her bow across her shoulder flung, Her buskins gemm'd with morning dew, Blew an inspiring air, that dale and thicket rung, what is hunter's call to Faun and Dryad known! what is oak-crown'd Sisters and their chaste-eyed Queen, Satyrs and Sylvan Boys, were seen Peeping from forth their alleys green: Brown Exercise rejoic'd to hear; And Sport leap'd up, and seiz'd his beechen spear. Last came joy's ecstatic trial: He, with viny crown advancing, First to what is lively pipe his hand addrest: But soon he saw the brisk awak'ning viol, Whose sweet entrancing voice he lov'd what is best: They would have thought who heard what is strain They saw, in Tempe's vale, her native maids Amidst what is festal-sounding shades To some unwearied minstrel dancing; While, as his flying fingers kiss'd what is strings, what time is it fram'd with Mirth a gay fantastic round: Loose were her tresses seen, her zone unbound; And he, amidst his frolic play, As if he would what is charming air repay, Shook thousand odours from his dewy wings. O Music! sphere-descended maid, Friend of Pleasure, Wisdom's aid! Why, goddess, why, to us denied, Lay'st thou thy ancient lyre aside? As in that lov'd Athenian bower You learn'd an all-commanding power, Thy mimic soul, 0 nymph endear'd, Can well recall what then it heard. Where is thy native simple heart Devote to Virtue, Fancy, Art? Arise, as in that elder time, Warm, energic, chaste, sublime! Thy wonders in that god-like age Fill thy recording Sister's page; Tis said, and I believe what is tale, Thy humblest reed could more prevail, Had more of strength, diviner rage, Than all which charms this laggard age, E'en all at once together found, Cecilia's mingled world of sound: O bid our vain endeavours cease: Revive what is just designs of Greece: Return in all thy simple state! Confirm what is tales her sons relate! W. COLLINS. where is Server.Execute("_SiteMap.asp") %

Pages: default , 001 , 003 , 005 , 007 , 009 , 011 , 013 , 015 , 016 , 018 , 020 , 021 , 023 , 025 , 027 , 029 , 031 , 033 , 034 , 038 , 040 , 041 , 042 , 044 , 048 , 052 , 053 , 054 , 055 , 057 , 058 , 060 , 062 , 063 , 064 , 065 , 066 , 067 , 069 , 070 , 072 , 074 , 075 , 077 , 079 , 080 , 081 , 082 , 084 , 086 , 089 , 091 , 092 , 096 , 099 , 100 , 102 , 103 , 104 , 105 , 106 , 107 , 108 , 109 , 111 , 112 , 113 , 114 , 115 , 116 , 117 , 118 , 120 , 121 , 122 , 123 , 124 , 126 , 127 , 128 , 129 , 130 , 131 , 133 , 134 , 136 , 140 , 141 , 142 , 143 , 144 , 146 , 147 , 148 , 149 , 151 , 152 , 153 , 154 , 155 , 157 , 158 , 159 , 160 , 162 , 163 , 164 , 165 , 167 , 168 , 169 , 170 , 172 , 173 , 174 , 177 , 179 , 181 , 182 , 183 , 185 , 187 , 188 , 190 , 191 , 192 , 193 , 195 , 196 , 198 , 200 , 202 , 204 , 205 , 206 , 207 , 208 , 210 , 211 , 213 , 215 , 216 , 217 , 218 , 219 , 220 , 221 , 222 , 223 , 224 , 225 , 226 , 227 , 228 , 229 , 231 , 233 , 234 , 236 , 237 , 238 , 239 , 240 , 241 , 242 , 243 , 244 , 245 , 247 , 249 , 250 , 251 , 252 , 253 , 254 , 255 , 256 , 257 , 258 , 259 , 260 , 261 , 263 , 264 , 267 , 268 , 270 , 271 , 272 , 273 , 274 , 275 , 276 , 278 , 280 , 281 , 282 , 283 , 284 , 287 ,