MUSIC-SINGING.

1. Oh! it came over me like the sweet South, That breathes upon a bank of violets, Stealing and giving odour.

As bright Apollo's lute, strung with his hair.

3. The man that hath not music in himself,

SHAKSPEARE.

SHAKSPEARE.

And is not mov'd with concord of sweet sounds,

Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils

Let no man trust him.

4. Untwisting all the chains that tie The hidden soul of harmony.

5. Can any mortal mixture of earth's mould Breathe such divine, enchanting ravishment?

SHAKSPEARE.

MILTON.

MILTON'S Comus.

6. Who, as they sung, would take the prison'd soul,

And lap it in Elysium.

MILTON'S Comus.

7. Music the fiercest grief can charm,

And fate's severest rage disarm.

Music can soften pain to ease,

And make despair and madness please;
Our joys below it can improve,

And antedate the bliss above.

8. Music resembles poetry; in each

POPE.

Are numerous graces which no methods teach,
And which a master-hand alone can reach.

POPE'S Essay on Criticism.

416

MUSIC-SINGING.

9. Even rage itself is cheer'd with music:

It wakes a glad remembrance of our youth,
Calls back past joys, and warms us into transport.

10. Music hath charms to soothe the savage breast, To soften rocks, and bend the knotted oak.

Rowe.

CONGREVE.

11. Though cheerfulness and I have long been strangers,
Harmonious sounds are still delightful to me :
There's sure no passion in the human soul
But finds its food in music.

12. There is in souls a sympathy with sounds,
And as the mind is pitch'd, the ear is pleas'd
With melting airs or martial, brisk or grave.
Some chord in unison with what we hear
Is touch'd within us, and the heart replies.

13. Sweet notes! they tell of former peace, Of all that look'd so rapturous then;

LILLO.

COWPER'S Task.

Now wither'd, lost-Oh! pray thee, cease,

I cannot hear those sounds again!

14. Music! Oh, how faint, how weak, Language fades before thy spell!

Why should feeling ever speak,

When thou canst breathe her soul so well?
Friendship's balmy words may pain,

Love's are e'en more false than they

Oh! 't is only music's strain

Can sweetly soothe, and not betray!

15. Her voice was like the warbling of a bird, So soft, so sweet, so delicately clear.

MOORE.

MOORE.

BYRON'S Don Juan.

16. He hears, alas! no music of the spheres,
But, an unhallow'd, earthly sound of fiddling.

17. In fact he has no singing education,

BYRON'S Don Juan.

An ignorant, noteless, timeless, tuneless fellow.

BYRON'S Don Juan.

18. The brazen trump, the spirit-stirring drum, That bids the foe defiance ere they come.

BYRON'S Curse of Minerva.

19. The dying night-breeze harping o'er the hills,
Striking the strings of nature-rock and tree, -
The best and earliest lyres of harmony,
With echo for their chorus.

20.

Her deep and thrilling song

Seem'd with its piercing melody to reach

The soul, and in mysterious unison

BYRON'S Island.

Blend with all thoughts of gentleness and love.

21. The bird retains his silver note,

Though bondage chains his wing;
His song is not a happy one-
I'm saddest when I sing.

22. Voices of melting tenderness, that blend
With pure and gentle musings, till the soul,
Commingling with the melody, is borne,
Rapt and dissolv'd in ecstasy, to heaven.

SOUTHEY.

J. H. BAYLY.

J. G. PERCIVAL.

23. Who loves not music still may pause to hark
Nature's free gladness hymning in the lark ;-
As sings the bird, sings Lucy! all her art
A voice in which you listen to a heart.

24. Divine interpreter thou art, Oh Song! To thee all secrets of all hearts belong!

The New Timon.

The New Timon.

418

MUSIC-SINGING.

25. See to the desk Apollo's sons repair :Swift rides the rosin o'er the horse's hair; In unison their various tones to tune,

26.

Murmurs the hautboy; growls the hoarse bassoon;
In soft vibrations sighs the whispering lute;
Twang goes the harpsichord; too-too, the flute;
Brays the loud trumpet; squeaks the fiddle sharp;
Winds the French-horn; and twangs the tingling harp.

Rejected Addresses.

Such sweet, such melting strains!

Their soft harmonious cadence rises now,
And swells in solemn grandeur to its height!
Now sinks to mellow notes - now dies away
But leaves its thrilling memory on my ear!

Methodist Protestant.

27. How sweetly sounds each mellow note Beneath the moon's pale ray, When dying zephyrs rise and float

Like lovers' sighs away!

MRS. AMELIA B. WELBY.

28. And, as thy bright lips sung, they caught

So beautiful a ray,

That, as I gaz'd, I almost thought

The spirit of thy lay

Had left, while melting in the air,
Its sweet expression painted there.

MRS. AMELIA B. WELBY.

29. Orpheus himself might hang his lyre
Upon the willows after this,
Nor henceforth impiously aspire

To lap the senses all in bliss ;
For he, who heard that thrilling strain,
Would find all other music vain.

J. T. WATSON.

NAME.

1. What's in a name? That, which we call a rose, By any other name would smell as sweet.

SHAKSPEARE.

2. Brutus and Cæsar: what should be in Cæsar?
Why should that name be sounded more than yours?
Write them together, yours is as fair a name;
Sound them, it doth become the mouth as well;
Weigh them, it is as heavy; conjure with them,
Brutus will start a spirit as soon as Cæsar.

3. What's in the name of lord, that I should fear To bring my grievance to the public ear?

4. Think not a coronet can hide
Assuming ignorance and pride;
By birth the name alone descends,
Your honour on yourself depends.

SHAKSPEARE.

CHURCHILL.

GAY's Fables.

5. Who dares name guilt, and with it Pearcy's name?

6. O Amos Cottle! Phœbus! what a name To fill the sounding trump of future fame!

The Tailors.

BYRON'S English Bards, &c.
Mary,"

7. I have a passion for the name of “

For once it was a magic sound to me,
And still it half calls up the realms of fairy,
Where I beheld what never was to be.

8. Appealing, by the magic of its name, To gentle feelings, and affections kept Within the heart, like gold.

BYRON'S Don Juan.

MISS L. E. LANDON.