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Or, the Power of Music
An Ode in Honor of St. Cecilia’s Day
I. ’T WAS at the royal feast for Persia won | |
| By Philip’s warlike son: | |
| Aloft, in awful state, | |
| The godlike hero sate | |
| On his imperial throne; | 5 |
| His valiant peers were placed around, | |
| Their brows with roses and with myrtles bound | |
| (So should desert in arms be crowned); | |
| The lovely Thais by his side | |
| Sate, like a blooming Eastern bride, | 10 |
| In flower of youth and beauty’s pride. | |
| Happy, happy, happy pair! | |
| None but the brave, | |
| None but the brave, | |
| None but the brave deserves the fair. | 15 |
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II. Timotheus, placed on high, | |
| Amid the tuneful quire, | |
| With flying fingers touched the lyre; | |
| The trembling notes ascend the sky, | |
| And heavenly joys inspire. | 20 |
| The song began from Jove, | |
| Who left his blissful seats above | |
| (Such is the power of mighty Love). | |
| A dragon’s fiery form belied the god; | |
| Sublime on radiant spires he rode, | 25 |
| When he to fair Olympia pressed, | |
| And while he sought her snowy breast; | |
| Then, round her slender waist he curled, | |
| And stamped an image of himself, a sovereign of the world. | |
| The listening crowd admire the lofty sound,— | 30 |
| A present deity! they shout around; | |
| A present deity! the vaulted roofs rebound. | |
| With ravished ears | |
| The monarch hears, | |
| Assumes the god, | 35 |
| Affects to nod, | |
| And seems to shake the spheres. | |
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III. The praise of Bacchus, then, the sweet musician sung,— | |
| Of Bacchus ever fair and ever young; | |
| The jolly god in triumph comes: | 40 |
| Sound the trumpets; beat the drums! | |
| Flushed with a purple grace, | |
| He shows his honest face; | |
| Now give the hautboys breath,—he comes, he comes! | |
| Bacchus, ever fair and young, | 45 |
| Drinking joys did first ordain; | |
| Bacchus’ blessings are a treasure; | |
| Drinking is the soldier’s pleasure: | |
| Rich the treasure, | |
| Sweet the pleasure; | 50 |
| Sweet is pleasure after pain. | |
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IV. Soothed with the sound, the king grew vain; | |
| Fought all his battles o’er again: | |
| And thrice he routed all his foes, and thrice he slew the slain. | |
| The master saw the madness rise,— | 55 |
| His glowing cheeks, his ardent eyes; | |
| And, while he Heaven and Earth defied, | |
| Changed his hand, and checked his pride. | |
| He chose a mournful Muse, | |
| Soft pity to infuse, | 60 |
| He sung Darius great and good, | |
| By too severe a fate | |
| Fallen, fallen, fallen, fallen,— | |
| Fallen from his high estate, | |
| And weltering in his blood; | 65 |
| Deserted, at his utmost need, | |
| By those his former bounty fed: | |
| On the bare earth exposed he lies, | |
| With not a friend to close his eyes. | |
| With downcast looks the joyless victor sate, | 70 |
| Revolving in his altered soul | |
| The various turns of chance below; | |
| And, now and then, a sigh he stole; | |
| And tears began to flow. | |
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V. The mighty master smiled, to see | 75 |
| That Love was in the next degree; | |
| ’T was but a kindred sound to move, | |
| For pity melts the mind to love. | |
| Softly sweet, in Lydian measures, | |
| Soon he soothed his soul to pleasures. | 80 |
| War, he sung, is toil and trouble; | |
| Honor but an empty bubble,— | |
| Never ending, still beginning,— | |
| Fighting still, and still destroying; | |
| If the world be worth thy winning, | 85 |
| Think, oh, think it worth enjoying! | |
| Lovely Thais sits beside thee,— | |
| Take the goods the gods provide thee. | |
| The many rend the skies with loud applause; | |
| So Love was crowned, but Music won the cause. | 90 |
| The prince, unable to conceal his pain, | |
| Gazed on the fair | |
| Who caused his care, | |
| And sighed and looked, sighed and looked, | |
| Sighed and looked, and sighed again. | 95 |
| At length, with love and wine at once oppressed, | |
| The vanquished victor sunk upon her breast. | |
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VI. Now strike the golden lyre again,— | |
| A louder yet, and yet a louder strain! | |
| Break his bands of sleep asunder, | 100 |
| And rouse him, like a rattling peal of thunder. | |
| Hark! hark! the horrid sound | |
| Has raised up his head; | |
| As awaked from the dead, | |
| And amazed, he stares around. | 105 |
| Revenge! revenge! Timotheus cries; | |
| See the Furies arise! | |
| See the snakes that they rear, | |
| How they hiss in their hair, | |
| And the sparkles that flash from their eyes! | 110 |
| Behold a ghastly band, | |
| Each a torch in his hand! | |
| Those are Grecian ghosts, that in battle were slain, | |
| And unburied remain, | |
| Inglorious, on the plain! | 115 |
| Give the vengeance due | |
| To the valiant crew. | |
| Behold how they toss their torches on high, | |
| How they point to the Persian abodes, | |
| And glittering temples of their hostile gods! | 120 |
| The princes applaud with a furious joy, | |
| And the king seized a flambeau with zeal to destroy; | |
| Thais led the way | |
| To light him to his prey, | |
| And, like another Helen, fired another Troy. | 125 |
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VII. Thus, long ago,— | |
| Ere heaving bellows learned to blow, | |
| While organs yet were mute,— | |
| Timotheus, to his breathing flute, | |
| And sounding lyre, | 130 |
| Could swell the soul to rage, or kindle soft desire. | |
| At last divine Cecilia came, | |
| Inventress of the vocal frame; | |
| The sweet enthusiast, from her sacred store, | |
| Enlarged the former narrow bounds, | 135 |
| And added length to solemn sounds, | |
| With nature’s mother-wit, and arts unknown before. | |
| Let old Timotheus yield the prize, | |
| Or both divide the crown; | |
| He raised a mortal to the skies,— | 140 |
| She drew an angel down. | |
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