ODE for MUSIC t ON ST. CECILIA'S DAY. D I. ESCEND, ye Nine! defcend and fing; Wake into voice each filent string, NOTES. Ode for Music.) This is one of the most artful as well as fublime of our Poet's smaller compositions. The first stanza expreffes the various tones and measures in music. The second defcribes their power over the several passions in general. The third explains their use in inspiring the Heroic passions in particular. The fourth, fifth, and fixth, their power over all nature in the fable of Orpheus's expedition to hell; which subject of illustration arofe naturally out of the preceding mention of the Argonautic expe. dition, where Orpheus gives the example of the use of Music to inspire the heroic paflions. The seventh and last conclude in praise of Music, and the advantages of the facred above the prophane. VER. 7. Let the loud trumpet sound, c.) Our Author in his rules for good writing had faid, that the found should be an echo to the sense. The graces it adds to the harmony are obvious. But we should never have feen all the advantages arifing from this rule, had this ode not been written. In which, one may venture to fay, is found all the harmony that poetic found, when it comes in aid of fenfe, is capable of producing. 'Till the roofs all around While in more lengthen'd notes and flow, And fill with fpreading founds the skies; And melt away. II. By Mufic, minds an equal temper know, Or, when the foul is press'd with cares, Melancholy lifts her head, Intestine war no more our Paffions wage, III. 1 But when our Country's cause provokes to Arms. How martial music ev'ry bosom warins! JO 15 20 25 30 35 1 So when the first bold vessel dar'd the feas Each chief his sev'nfold shield dispsay'd, IV. But when thro' all th' infernal bounds, Which flaming Phlegeton furrounds, Love, strong as Death, the Poet led To the pale nations of the dead, What founds were heard, What scenes appear'd, O'er all the dreary coafts! Dreadful gleams, Difmal screams, Fires that glow, Shrieks of woe, Hollow groans And cries of tortur'd ghosts! But hark! he strikes the golden lyre; And fee! the tortur'd ghofts respire, See, shady forms advance! Thy ftone, O Sifyphus, stands still, Ixion rests upon his wheel, And the pale spectres dance! 40 50 55 60 65 The Furies fink upon their iron beds, V. By the streams that ever flow, He fung, and hell confented Thus fong could prevail Yet music and love were victorious. VI. 70 MA But foon, too foon, the lover turns his eyes: |