ODE for MUSIC

ON

ST. CECILIA'S DAY.

I.

DEfcend, ye Nine! defcend and fing;

The breathing inftruments inspire,

Wake into voice each filent ftring,
And sweep the founding lyre!

In a fadly-pleafing strain

Let the warbling lute complain:
Let the loud trumpet found,

'Till the roofs all around

The fhrill echos rebound:

NOTES.

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Ode for Mufic.] This is one of the most artful as well as fublime of our Poet's fmaller compofitions. The first ftanza expreffes the various tones and measures in mufic. The fecond defcribes their power over the feveral paffions in general. The third explains their ufe in infpiring the Heroic paffions in particular. The fourth, fifth, and fixth, their power over all nature in the fable of Orpheus's expedition to hell; which fubject of illuftration arofe naturally out of the preceding mention of the Argonautic expedition, where Orpheus gives the example of the ufe of Mufic to infpire the heroic paffions. The feventh and last conclude in praife of Mufic, and the advantages of the facred above the prophane.

VER. 7. Let the loud trumpet found, etc.] Our Author, in his rules for good writing had faid, that the found should be an echo to the fenfe. The graces it adds to the harmony are obvious. But we should never have feen all the advantages arifing from this rule, had this ode not been written.

While in more lengthen'd notes and flow,
The deep, majeftic, folemn organs blow.

Hark! the numbers foft and clear

Gently steal upon the ear;

Now louder, and yet louder rife

And fill with spreading founds the skies; Exulting in triumph now fwell the bold notes, In broken air, trembling, the wild mufic floats; 'Till, by degrees, remote and fmall,

By Music, minds an equal temper know,

Nor fwell too high, nor fink too low. If in the breast tumultuous joys arife, Mufic her foft, affuafive voice applies;

IO

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Or, when the foul is prefs'd with cares,
Exalts her in enliv'ning airs.

Warriors fhe fires with animated founds;

Pours balm into the bleeding lover's wounds:

Melancholy lifts her head,

Morpheus rouzes from his bed,
Sloth unfolds her arms and wakes,

Lift'ning Envy drops her fnakes;

Inteftine war no more our Paffions wage,

And giddy Factions hear away their rage.

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In which, one may venture to say, is found all the harmony that poetic found, when it comes in aid of fenfe, is capable of producing.

III.

But when our Country's caufe provokes to Arms,
How martial mufic ev'ry bofom warms!

So when the first bold veffel dar'd the feas,

High on the ftern the Thracian rais'd his ftrain,
While Argo faw her kindred trees
Defcend from Pelion to the main.
Transported demi-gods stood round,

And men grew heroes at the found,
Enflam'd with glory's charms:

Each chief his fev'nfold fhield difplay'd,
And half unsheath'd the fhining blade:
And feas, and rocks, and fkies rebound
To arms, to arms, to arms!

IV.

But when thro' all th' infernal bounds,

Which flaming Phlegeton furrounds,

Love, ftrong as Death, the Poet led

To the pale nations of the dead,

What founds were heard,
What scenes appear'd,

O'er all the dreary coasts!

Dreadful gleams

Difmal fcreams,

Fires that glow,

Shrieks of woe,

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But hark! he strikes the golden lyre;
And fee! the tortur'd ghofts refpire,

See, fhady forms advance !

Thy stone, O Sifyphus, ftands ftill,
Ixion refts upon his wheel,

And the pale spectres dance!

The Furies fink upon their iron beds,

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And snakes uncurl'd hang lift'ning round their heads.

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Wand'ring in the myrtle grove,

Reftore, reftore Eurydice to life:

Oh take the hufband, or return the wife!

He fung, and hell confented

To hear the Poet's prayer:
Stern Proferpine relented,
And gave him back the fair.
Thus fong could prevail
O'er death, and o'er hell,

A conqueft how hard and how glorious!
Tho' fate had faft bound her

With Styx nine times round her,

Yet aufic and love were victorious.

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