 | The miscellaneous essays and occasional writings of Francis Hopkinson, Esq |  |
5
ODE ON MUSIC.
Hark! hark! the sweet vibrating lyre
Sets my attentive soul on fire;
Thro' all my frame what pleasures thrill
Whilst the loud treble warbles shrill,
And the more slow and solemn bass
Adds charm to charm and grace to grace.
Sets my attentive soul on fire;
Thro' all my frame what pleasures thrill
Whilst the loud treble warbles shrill,
And the more slow and solemn bass
Adds charm to charm and grace to grace.
Sometimes in sweetly languid strains
The guilty trembling string complains:
How it delights may ravished ear
When the expiring notes I hear
Vanish distant and decay!—
They steal my yielding soul away.
The guilty trembling string complains:
How it delights may ravished ear
When the expiring notes I hear
Vanish distant and decay!—
They steal my yielding soul away.
Neatly trip the merry dance,
And lightly touch and swiftly glance;
Let boundless transport laugh aloud
Sounds madly ramble mix and crowd,
Till all in one loud rapture rise,
Spread thro' the air and reach the skies.
And lightly touch and swiftly glance;
Let boundless transport laugh aloud
Sounds madly ramble mix and crowd,
Till all in one loud rapture rise,
Spread thro' the air and reach the skies.
But when you touch the solemn air,
Oh! swell each note distinct and clear;
In ev'ry strain let sorrow sigh,
Languish soft and sweetly die.
Oh! swell each note distinct and clear;
In ev'ry strain let sorrow sigh,
Languish soft and sweetly die.
6
So shall th' admir'd celestial art,
Raise and transport my ravish'd heart;
Exalt my soul, and give my mind
Ideas of sublimer kind.
So great the bliss it seems to prove
There must be music too above.
That from the trumpets silver sound
Of wing'd arch-angels plac'd around
Thy burning throne—Oh! king of Heaven!
Most perfect harmony is giv'n:
Whilst happy saints in concert join
To make the music more divine,
And with immortal voices sing
HOSANNAHS to their glorious KING.
Raise and transport my ravish'd heart;
Exalt my soul, and give my mind
Ideas of sublimer kind.
So great the bliss it seems to prove
There must be music too above.
That from the trumpets silver sound
Of wing'd arch-angels plac'd around
Thy burning throne—Oh! king of Heaven!
Most perfect harmony is giv'n:
Whilst happy saints in concert join
To make the music more divine,
And with immortal voices sing
HOSANNAHS to their glorious KING.
| The miscellaneous essays and occasional writings of Francis Hopkinson, Esq | |