A SONG FOR ST. CECILIA'S DAY, NOVEMBER 22,
1687
by: John Dryden
- I.
-
- ROM 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.
'A Song for St. Cecilia's Day, November
22, 1687' is reprinted from English Poems. Ed. Edward
Chauncey Baldwin. New York: American Book Company, 1908. |
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