ODE VIII.

FOR

ST. CECILIA's DAY.

AS ALTERED

BY MR. POPE.

I.

DESCEND, ye Nine! descend and sing;
The breathing instruments inspire;
Wake into voice each silent string,
And sweep the sounding tyre!
In a sadly-pleasing strain

Let the warbling lute complain:

In more lengthen'd notes and slow, The deep, majestic, solemn organs blow, Hark! the numbers soft and clear

Gently steal upon the ear;

Now louder they sound,

Till the roofs all around

The shrill echoes rebound:

Till, by degrees, remote and small,

The strains decay,

And melt away,

In a dying, dying fall.

11.

By Music, minds an equal temper know,

Nor swell too high, nor sink too low. If in the breast tumultuous joys arise. Music her soft assuasive voice applies;

Or, when the soul is sunk in cares, Exalts her with enlivening airs. Warriors she fires by sprightly sounds; Pours balm into the lover's wounds: Passions no more the soul engage,

Ev'n factions hear away their rage.

III.

Amphion thus bade wild dissension cease,
And soften'd mortals learn'd the arts of peace.
Amphion taught contending kings,
From various discords, to create
The music of a well-tun'd state;
Nor slack, nor strain the tender strings,
Those useful touches to impart,

That strike the subject's answering heart,

And the soft silent harmony that springs
From sacred union and consent of things.

IV.

But, when our country's cause provokes to arms,

How martial music every bosom warms!

When the first vessel dar'd the seas,

The Thracian rais'd his strain,

And Argo saw her kindred trees
Descend from Pelion to the main,

Transported demi-gods stood round,
And men grew heroes at the sound,
Inflam'd with glory's charms!
Each chief his sevenfold shield display'd,
And half unsheath'd the shining blade:
And seas, and rocks, and skies rebound
To arms, to arms, to arms!

V.

But when through all th' infernal bounds,
Which flaming Phlegeton surrounds,
Sad Orpheus sought his consort lost :

The adamantine gates were barr'd,

And nought was seen, and nought was heard, Around the dreary coast;

But dreadful gleams,

Dismal screams,

Fires that glow,

Shrieks of woe,

Sullen moans,

Hollow groans,

And cries of tortur'd ghosts!

But hark! he strikes the golden lyre,
And see! the tortur'd ghosts respire,
See shady forms advance!

And the pale spectres dance!

The Furies sink upon their iron beds,

And snakes uncurl'd hang listening round their heads.

VI.

By the streams that ever flow,
By the fragrant winds that blow

O'er the Elysian flowers;

By those happy souls that dwell
In yellow meads of Asphodel,
Or Amaranthine bowers;
By the hero's armed shades;

Glittering through the gloomy glades,
By the youths that died for love,
Wandering in the myrtle grove ;

Restore, restore Eurydice to life :

Oh, take the husband, or return the wife!

VII.

He sung, and hell consented

To hear the poet's prayer;
Stern Proserpine relented,
And gave him back the fair.
Thus song could prevail

O'er death and o'er hell,

A conquest how hard and how glorious! Though fate had fast bound her,

With Styx nine times round her, Yet music and love were victorious.

ODE IX.

ON

ST. CECILIA's DAY.

BY CHRISTOPHER SMART, M.A.

I.

FROM your lyre-enchanted towers,
Ye musically mystic Powers,

Ye, that inform the tuneful spheres,
Inaudible to mortal ears,

While each orb in ether swims

Accordant to th' inspiring hymns;
Hither Paradise remove,

Spirits of Harmony and Love!

Thou too, divine Urania, deign to appear,

And with thy sweetly solemn lute

To the grand argument the numbers suit;

Such as sublime and clear,
Replete with heavenly love,

Charm th' enraptur'd souls above.

Disdainful of fantastic play,

Mix on your ambrosial tongue, Weight of sense with sound of song, And be angelically gay.