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A SONG FOR ST. CECILIA'S

DAY, 1687

FROM harmony, from heavenly harmony,
This universal frame began;
When Nature underneath a heap
Of jarring atoms lay,

And could not heave her head,
The tuneful voice was heard from high,
Arise, ye more than dead!

Then cold and hot, and moist and dry,
In order to their stations leap,
And Music's power obey.

From harmony, from heavenly 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 chorded shell,
His listening brethren stood around,
And, wondering, on their faces fell,
To worship that celestial sound.

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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? 24

The trumpet's loud clangor

Excites us to arms,
With shrill notes of anger,

And mortal alarms.

The double double double beat Of the thundering drum Cries, Hark! the foes come; Charge, charge, 't is too late to retreat!

The soft complaining flute

In dying notes discovers

The woes of hopeless lovers,

Whose dirge is whispered by the warbling lute. Sharp violins proclaim

Their jealous pangs, and desperation,

Fury, frantic indignation,

Depth of pains and height of passion,
For the fair, disdainful dame.

But O, what art can teach,
What human voice can reach,
The sacred organ's praise?
Notes inspiring holy love,

Notes that wing their heavenly ways
To mend the choirs above.

32

Orpheus could lead the savage race,
And trees unrooted left their place,
Sequacious of the lyre;

But bright Cecilia raised the wonder higher:
When to her organ vocal breath was given,
An angel heard, and straight appeared
Mistaking earth for heaven.

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1687.

GRAND CHORUS

As from the power of sacred lays
The spheres began to move,
And sung the great Creator's praise
To all the blessed 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.

John Dryden.

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ALEXANDER'S FEAST; OR, THE POWER OF MUSIC

'T was at the royal feast, for Persia won By Philip's warlike son:

Aloft in awful state

The godlike hero sate

On his imperial throne;

His valiant peers were placed around,

Their brows with roses and with myrtles bound (So should desert in arms be crowned); The lovely Thais, by his side,

Sate like a blooming Eastern bride

In flower of youth and beauty's pride.

Happy, happy, happy pair!

None but the brave,

None but the brave,

None but the brave deserves the fair.

15

CHORUS

Happy, happy, happy pair!

None but the brave,

None but the brave,

None but the brave deserves the fair.

Timotheus, placed on high

Amid the tuneful choir,

With flying fingers touched the lyre;

The trembling notes ascend the sky,

And heavenly joys inspire.

The song began from Jove,

Who left his blissful seats above

(Such is the power of mighty love).

A dragon's fiery form belied the god;
Sublime on radiant spires he rode,

When he to fair Olympia pressed,

And while he sought her snowy breast;

Then round her slender waist he curled,

And stamped an image of himself, a sovereign

of the world.

19

The listening crowd admire the lofty sound,
A present deity! they shout around;

A present deity! the vaulted roofs rebound.
With ravished ears

The monarch hears,
Assumes the god,

Affects to nod,

And seems to shake the spheres.

CHORUS

With ravished ears
The monarch hears,

Assumes the god,
Affects to nod,

And seems to shake the spheres.

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:
Flushed with a purple grace

He shows his honest face:

Now give the hautboys breath. He comes! he

comes!

Bacchus, ever fair and young,

Drinking joys did first ordain;
Bacchus' blessings are a treasure,
Drinking is the soldier's pleasure;
Rich the treasure,

Sweet the pleasure,
Sweet is pleasure after pain.

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