GRAND CHORUS.

Then kindly treat this happy day,
And grateful honors to Cecilia pay:

To her these lov'd harmonious rites belong,

To her that tunes our strings, and still inspires our

song.

ODE VII.

ON

ST. CECILIA's DAY.

BY THEOPHILUS PARSONS, 1699.

BLEST Cecilia! charming maid!
Where shall mortals seek for aid,
Thee to sing? whose tuneful lays
Shall thy skill in music praise ?

Inspir'd by thee, thy sons their duty show,
And imitate below,

With pious love,

What Angels sing above.

With breath the spacious organ fill;
With vital breath the trumpet swell;
Inspire the softening flute with skill;
And let Cecilia, Goddess of our song,
In melting accents ever dwell
On every string and every tongue.

For ever sacred be the day, Beyond all others bright and fair, Ever joyous, ever gay,

When first divine Cecilia found

The magic art to quicken the long silent air

With all the energy of sound.

Up to the skies,

On new-fledg'd wings,

From earth celestial Music flies,

And joins in concert with the Cherub's strings. Down from their blissful bowers they came; Came down, to listen and admire

The mighty animated frame,

Itself a quire.

She smil'd,

Cecilia smil'd, to see

The Cherubs mild,

With hovering wings descending from on high:

Like nimble lightning swift and gay,

O'er all the keys her wanton fingers play;

The ready notes obey her touch:

Dissolv'd in ecstacy

Th' immortal beings lie;

Divine Cecilia charms too much.

Her sprightly treble, warbling sweet,

Glides through the veins

On even feet,

And binds the soul in silken chains:

The yielding soul with softness it disarms,

And, like a woman, charms.

With manly grace the bass stalks high,

Array'd in awful majesty:

Its haughty bound and pompous sound
The spirits warm, the soul alarm,

And shake the trembling air around.

Between the two extremes the tenor flows

In gentle streams, persuading union as it goes.
And now in perfect harmony

The blended parts agree,

And glut the listening ear with melody.

The treble starts;

On swift division leads the chace,

And quite out-strips the loitering parts.
The rumbling bass, with clumsy pace,

Pursues the fleeting fugitive,

And all in triumph does her backward drive :
But see!

The friendly tenor, all for unity,

Does mildly interpose,

And joins them in a full compounded close.

She paus'd awhile;

For silence has in music place.

The ravish'd Cherubs, with a silent smile,

Disclose amazement on each face.

Again she plies the loud machine;
Again intranc'd the Cherubs lie;
Immortal, yet in pleasures almost die.
Thrice the lovely Maid

Paus'd; and thrice she play'd;

And thrice she shew'd the power divine And wondrous force of modulated sound, That like a mighty torrent flows, Victorious as it goes,

And sweeps away the strongest mound.

CHORUS.

With breath the spacious organ fill;
With vital breath the trumpet swell;
Inspire the softening flute with skill;
And let Cecilia, Goddess of our song,
In melting accents ever dwell,
In every string and every tongue.