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Ode on St.
Cecilia’s Day 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
obye. 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. II. 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: 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? III. 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! 'tis
too late to retreat. IV. The soft complaining
flute, In dying notes
discovers The woes of hopeless
lovers; Whose dirge is
whisper'd by the warbling lute. V. Sharp violins
proclaim Their jealous pangs
and desperation, Fury, frantic
indignation, Depth of pains, and
height of passion, For the fair,
disdainful dame. VI. But oh! 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. VII. Orpheus could lead
the savage race; And trees uprooted
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. Grand Chorus As from the power 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. |
