John Dryden(1631–1700)
A Song for St. Cecilia's Day
F r o m h a r m o n y , f r o m h e a v e n l y h a r m o n y
T h i s u n i v e r s a l f r a m e 4 b e g a n :
W h e n N a t u r e 5 u n d e r n e a t h a h e a p
O f j a r r i n g a t o m s l a y ,
A n d c o u l d n o t h e a v e h e r h e a d ,
T h e t u n e f u l v o i c e w a s h e a r d f r o m h i g h :
" A r i s e , y e m o r e t h a n d e a d . "
T h e n c o l d , a n d h o t , a n d m o i s t , a n d d r y , 6
I n o r d e r t o t h e i r s t a t i o n s l e a p ,
And Music's power obey.
F r o m h a r m o n y , f r o m h e a v e n l y h a r m o n y
T h i s u n i v e r s a l f r a m e b e g a n :
F r o m h a r m o n y t o h a r m o n y
T h r o u g h a l l t h e c o m p a s s 0 o f t h e n o t e s i t r a n ,full range
The diapason 7 closing full in man.
W h a t p a s s i o n c a n n o t M u s i c r a i s e a n d q u e l l !
W h e n J u b a l 8 s t r u c k t h e c o r d e d s h e l l ,
H i s l i s t e n i n g b r e t h r e n s t o o d a r o u n d ,
A n d , w o n d e r i n g , o n t h e i r f a c e s f e l l
To worship that celestial sound.
Less than a god they thought there could not dwell
Within the hollow of that shell
That spoke so sweetly and so well.
W h a t p a s s i o n c a n n o t M u s i c r a i s e a n d q u e l l !
The trumpet's loud clangor
Excites us to arms,
With shrill notes of anger,
And mortal alarms.
The double double double beat
Of the thundering drum
Cries: "Hark! the foes come;
Charge, charge, 'tis too late to retreat.
The soft complaining flute
In dying notes discovers
The woes of hopeless lovers,
Whose dirge is whispered by the warbling lute.
Sharp violins9 proclaim
Their jealous pangs, and desperation,
Fury, frantic indignation,
Depth of pains, and height of passion,
For the fair, disdainful dame.
But O! what art can teach,
What human voice can reach,
The sacred organ's praise
Notes inspiring holy love,
Notes that wing their heavenly ways
To mend the choirs above.1
Orpheus could lead the savage race;
And trees unrooted left their place,
Sequacious of2 the lyre;
But bright Cecilia raised the wonder higher:
When to her organ vocal breath3 was given,
An angel heard, and straight appeared,
Mistaking earth for heaven.
GrandChorus
As from the power of sacred lays
The spheres began to move,
And sung the great Creator's praise4
To all the hlest above;
So, when the last and dreadful hour
This crumbling pageant5 shall devour,
The trumpet6 shall be heard on high,
The dead shall live,7 the living die,
And Music shall untune the shy.