66 din, which so powerfully tended, during our war with France, to rouse our ocean warriors" to the highest pitch of patriotic daring and enthusiasm. Inspired too by the shrill tones of the bagpipe how frequently have our highland regiments fought and conquered. And as one of our writers has said, "Who knows how much of loyalty might have remained unexcited if the music of the national anthem had not been so magnificent, and the air of "Rule Britannia" had had not been so inspiriting?" Such is the power of the Lyric, which is certainly the most delightful species of our poetic literature. But the Lyric Muse instructs as well as delights. In the most captivating style she brings before us the pure and the beautiful, both in the natural and the moral world. Alike in the lowly cot and the stately hall-alike in the home circle as at the social board-she brings "to our business and bosoms" thoughts and feelings "too deep for tears." Whereever we move and have our being she displays to us all the realities of life, and thus shews us "the image of man and of nature," which is the very essence, the very soul of Poetry, emphatically denominated by Wordsworth, as the first and last of all knowledge, as it is the language of the heart. We shall now dismiss this part of our subject and proceed to give a passing glance at the productions of our most popular lyrists from the reign of Queen Elizabeth to the present time, and in doing this we shall endeavour to shew the wide difference that exists between a pure and a vitiated taste for metrical compositions, especially such as have been set to music. The reign of Elizabeth has justly been termed the golden age of English poetic literature, for it was the age of Shakespeare, the great exponent of human nature, the intellectual Titan, who "piles up his magnificent thoughts, Olympus high, grasps the lightnings of creative Jove, and speaks the words. that call spirits and mortals and worlds into existence." It was the age of Beaumont and Fletcher, the Siamese twins in dramatic literature, whose lyrics are so sweet in versification and so highly polished that even at the present day they might pass for modern productions. It was the age of Massinger, and Spencer, and Jonson-"O rare Ben Jonson"-the minor poets at that period being George Wither, Drummond, Browne, Carew, Herrick, and others, whose lyrics for elegance of diction and originality of thought can scarcely be surpassed. These were the mighty master spirits of that glorious age, who formed the brightest galaxy of poetic genius that ever shed lustre on the literary hemisphere. "They being dead yet speaketh." Though their mortal remains have long laid mouldering in the tomb, yet their words, their thoughts, stamped with the impress of immortality, will live and breathe to the "last syllable of recorded Time." The lyrics of Shakespeare are still sung in his unrivalled dramatic works, the music to Macbeth being composed by John Locke, who flourished in the 17th century, and the music to the songs in the "Tempest" and "As you like it," being the joint production of Dr. Bull and Dr. Arne, who lived in the same age. That some idea may be formed of the sweet songs of the Elizabethan era, we shall now give two specimens of them, our limits not allowing us to give more. The first, as follows, is by Thomas Carew He that loves a rosy cheek, Or a coral lip admires, But a smooth and stedfast mind, The next specimen is the song entitled" Drink to me only with thine eyes." This song is from the pen of Ben Jonson. It has long floated on the stream of popularity, and still continues a favorite in the musical world. Illustration. DRINK TO ME ONLY WITH THINE EYES. Drink to me only with thine eyes And I will pledge with mine, Or leave a kiss but in the cup And I'll not look for wine. The thirst that from my soul doth rise Doth ask a drink divine, But might I of Jove's nectar sup But thou thereon didst only breathe, And sent it back to me; Since then it grows and smells, I swear, This song and the one previously quoted were composed nearly 300 years ago, yet how musically, how sweetly they flow! They will bear comparison with the best songs of the present day, and present a refreshing contrast to the numberless insipid compositions which have lately been set to music. It is not known who is the composer of the beautiful air adapted to the last song, "Drink to me only with thine eyes." It must have been composed, however, many years after the reign of Elizabeth, as it is said there is not a scrap now extant of the original music to the lyrics of that period. CHAPTER II. Reign of Charles II-a decline in literary tastethe Commonwealth-Milton and Dryden. Though rather tinctured with a quaintness of expression peculiar to that age, yet the lyrical poetry of the Elizabethan era, was so extremely original in thought and so truthful in feeling, uniting Doric simplicity with vigour of diction, that the songs then composed might have stood as models for future lyrists. But not so:-a decline in literary taste began in the reign of Charles the second, and the taste for such sweet compositions as those of Carew, Browne, Suckling, Herrick, and others, was at once superseded by a strange and unnatural mania for Pastoral Love ditties and Bacchanalian drinking songs. The insipidity of the one could only be equalled by the vulgarity of the other. In the amatory effusions just alluded to there is no truth, no nature, no genuine feeling. A perusal of them leads one to imagine, that in by-gone days the length and breadth of old England was swarming with love-sick shepherds and shepherdesses, who, like amorous turtle doves, had nothing else to do but bill and coo amid arcadian scenes where murmuring streams eternally meandered through flowery meeds and myrtle groves. A writer on this subject says, that "Corydon then wept among his flocks because Chloe or Phoebe was cruel, and Chole called upon echo to repeat the name of Corydon, the falsest of shepherds and of men." O hopeless, unrequited Love! thou relentless breaker of human hearts! were all true that babbling poets tell us of the shepherdesses of that puling age, how terrible must be thy power! We have now in our possession upwards of one hundred songs, set to music, which were highly popular in the middle of the last century. We shall make two or three extracts from them merely to shew the depraved taste for ballad writing at that period. The first song to which we call attention is entitled "The Shepherd's Complaint," and it concludes thus : "To Nanny's poultry oats I gave, I'm sure I always had the best, |