It makes the dumb poetic pictures breathe, Victors' and Poets' names it saves from death. Provoke the military throng! The haut-boys and the warlike fife, And does from neighbouring hills rebound; We make the trembling valleys ring. GRAND GHORUS. All instruments and voices fit the choir, ODE IV. ON ST. CECILIA's DAY. BY NICHOLAS BRADY, D. D. 1692. HAIL! bright Cecilia, hail! fill every heart That thine and Music's sacred love May make the British forest prove As famous as Dodona's vocal grove : Hark! hark! each tree its silence breaks, This in the sprightly violin, "That in the flute distinctly speaks! 'Twas sympathy their listening brethren drew, When to the Thracian lyre with leafy wings they flew 'Tis Nature's voice; by all the moving wood Of creatures understood: The universal tongue to none Of all her numerous race unknown! At once the passions to express and move; We hear, and straight we grieve or hate, rejoice or love: In unseen chains it does the fancy bind; At once it charms the sense, and captivates the mind. The jarring seeds of matter did agree; Which, by thy laws of true proportion join'd, The noble organ may. From Heaven its wondrous notes were given, Some Angel of the sacred choir Did with his breath the pipes inspire; And of their notes above the just resemblance gave, Brisk without lightness, without dullness grave. Wondrous nachine! To thee the warbling lute, Though us'd to conquest, must be forc'd to yield: With thee unable to dispute, The airy violin And lofty viol quit the field; In vain they tune their speaking strings, To court the cruel Fair, or praise victorious Kings. C Whilst all thy consecrated lays And every grateful note to Heaven repays In vain the amorous flute and soft guittar Wanton heat and loose desire; Thou summ'st their differing graces up in one, And art a concert of them all within thyself alone. GRAND CHORUS. Hail! bright Cecilia, hail to thee! Make up a part Of infinite felicity. Hail! bright Cecilia, hail to thee! Great Patroness of Us and Harmony? ODE V. ON ST. CECILIA'S DAY. BY THEOPHILUS PARSONS. 1693. CECILIA, look, look down, and see A tribute paid to Heaven and Thee: Warm you, great Saint, your willing choir, May you move on every string, every voice, In every note your grateful influence sing, When beings in a dark confusion lay, Thy voice the sullen gloom did chase, And Chaos fled before the new-born day. |