Poems on Several Occasions ... To which is added, the Plague of Wealth, Occasion'd By the Author's receiving fifty Pounds from his Excellency the Lord Carteret, for the foremention'd Ode. With several Poems not in the Dublin Edition. By Matthew Pilkington. Revised by the Reverend Dr. Swift |
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THE PROGRESS of MUSICK IN IRELAND.
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| XXXIV. |
 | Poems on Several Occasions |  |
1
THE PROGRESS of MUSICK IN IRELAND.
TO MIRA.
------Μουσικην δ' αρα
Ερως διδασκει, καν αμουσος ην το πριν.
Eurip. Sthenobœa.
Ερως διδασκει, καν αμουσος ην το πριν.
Eurip. Sthenobœa.
By thee enjoyn'd th' obsequious Muse obeys,
Yet trembling, dreads the Danger she surveys,
But vain are Infant Fears, I plead in vain,
The Task too Noble, too Sublime the Strain,
The Fancy's wing'd, and springs to bolder Flights,
When Beauty bids, and Harmony invites;
For each, our Passions pleasingly controuls;
Love's but the purer Harmony of Souls:
Musick and Love the savage World refin'd,
Reform'd the Manners, while they rais'd the Mind,
Gave Man a Foretaste of the Joys above;
For what is Heav'n but Harmony and Love?
Yet trembling, dreads the Danger she surveys,
2
The Task too Noble, too Sublime the Strain,
The Fancy's wing'd, and springs to bolder Flights,
When Beauty bids, and Harmony invites;
For each, our Passions pleasingly controuls;
Love's but the purer Harmony of Souls:
Musick and Love the savage World refin'd,
Reform'd the Manners, while they rais'd the Mind,
Gave Man a Foretaste of the Joys above;
For what is Heav'n but Harmony and Love?
Hibernia long beheld, with Sorrow fill'd,
Her Poets and her Sons in Arts unskill'd:
Sons! dead to Fame, nor comely to the Sight,
Their Customs wild, their Manners unpolite;
Nor yet could Musick boast persuasive Charms,
To tempt one sprightly Genius to her Arms:
The Muse, in mournful Pomp, laments her Case,
Pale Grief and Anguish painted in her Face;
To lonely Woods retire the tuneful Throng,
Uncharm'd by Sound, and negligent of Song:
The silent Lark forgets to wake the Dawn
With early Song, suspended o'er the Lawn,
On Earth he pines, and droops his useless Wings
With dumb Concern, and neither Soars nor Sings.
Her Poets and her Sons in Arts unskill'd:
Sons! dead to Fame, nor comely to the Sight,
Their Customs wild, their Manners unpolite;
3
To tempt one sprightly Genius to her Arms:
The Muse, in mournful Pomp, laments her Case,
Pale Grief and Anguish painted in her Face;
To lonely Woods retire the tuneful Throng,
Uncharm'd by Sound, and negligent of Song:
The silent Lark forgets to wake the Dawn
With early Song, suspended o'er the Lawn,
On Earth he pines, and droops his useless Wings
With dumb Concern, and neither Soars nor Sings.
At length a Swain, long tortur'd with Despair,
The Scorn of some inexorable Fair,
Haunted each Grove, each dark Retreat of Grief,
Bereft of Ease, and hopeless of Relief;
Nightly he heard sad Philomel complain,
And wish'd to copy so divine a Strain,
So clear, so soft the plaintive Warbler sung,
The Groves, and Hills with plaintive Echoes rung.
Her Notes so mournfully melodious flow,
They calm his Soul, and mitigate his Woe,
Distressful Passion both alike bewail,
He sighs his Grief, she chants her piteous Tale.
The Scorn of some inexorable Fair,
Haunted each Grove, each dark Retreat of Grief,
Bereft of Ease, and hopeless of Relief;
4
And wish'd to copy so divine a Strain,
So clear, so soft the plaintive Warbler sung,
The Groves, and Hills with plaintive Echoes rung.
Her Notes so mournfully melodious flow,
They calm his Soul, and mitigate his Woe,
Distressful Passion both alike bewail,
He sighs his Grief, she chants her piteous Tale.
Fain would he Sing; his Voice was still supprest
By swelling Sighs, which struggled from his Breast.
Despair, whose Sting can haughtiest Minds controul,
Unstrings his Nerves, and quite unmans his Soul,
Breaths a wild Horror into ev'ry Part,
Restrains his Tongue, and preys upon his Heart.
By swelling Sighs, which struggled from his Breast.
Despair, whose Sting can haughtiest Minds controul,
Unstrings his Nerves, and quite unmans his Soul,
Breaths a wild Horror into ev'ry Part,
Restrains his Tongue, and preys upon his Heart.
5
But near the Grove, where comfortless he lies,
The spiky Reeds in waving Clusters rise,
He models one, and his Invention tires,
Varying its Form as Art or Chance inspires:
Then gives it Breath to sing: With gentle Mirth
It strikes the Ear, as conscious of its Birth.
With sharpen'd Steel he lanc'd its tender Skin,
In Order rang'd the op'ning Wounds are seen,
Wounds! less than he receiv'd, with piercing Smart,
In that soft Instrument of Love, the Heart:
To these his active Fingers he applies,
Which bid the changing Musick fall, and rise,
While in the Road of Harmony they guide
Each infant Sound, and o'er the Notes preside.
The spiky Reeds in waving Clusters rise,
He models one, and his Invention tires,
Varying its Form as Art or Chance inspires:
Then gives it Breath to sing: With gentle Mirth
It strikes the Ear, as conscious of its Birth.
With sharpen'd Steel he lanc'd its tender Skin,
In Order rang'd the op'ning Wounds are seen,
Wounds! less than he receiv'd, with piercing Smart,
In that soft Instrument of Love, the Heart:
To these his active Fingers he applies,
Which bid the changing Musick fall, and rise,
While in the Road of Harmony they guide
Each infant Sound, and o'er the Notes preside.
6
But o'er his Airs a gloomy Sorrow hung;
For still he lov'd, and Love distress'd he sung,
His Heart in ev'ry Accent seem'd to bleed,
And Grief harmonious trembled from the Reed.
For still he lov'd, and Love distress'd he sung,
His Heart in ev'ry Accent seem'd to bleed,
And Grief harmonious trembled from the Reed.
And still the Tenor of Hibernian Strains,
Those pleasing Labours of enamour'd Swains,
From his a melancholly Turn receive,
The Airs are moving, and the Numbers grieve.
Those pleasing Labours of enamour'd Swains,
From his a melancholly Turn receive,
The Airs are moving, and the Numbers grieve.
Musick thus wak'd to Life, fair Child of Love!
Time's rip'ning Touch, and growing Arts improve,
While to the feeble Voice of slender Reeds,
The manlier Musick of the Fife succeeds.
Alike in Form, but of a larger Mold,
More durable its Frame, its Tone more bold;
Now lively Numbers, born on willing Gales,
Flow to the Hills, and echo in the Vales;
The rural Throng now chearful croud around,
And catch, enamour'd, the inspiring Sound,
They walk and move with correspondent Mien,
And Dance exulting on the level Green:
No Secret now the raptur'd Heart conceals,
The conscious Maid her hidden Flames reveals,
In glowing Blushes on her Cheeks they rise,
Burst from her Tongue, and kindle in her Eyes.
Time's rip'ning Touch, and growing Arts improve,
While to the feeble Voice of slender Reeds,
The manlier Musick of the Fife succeeds.
Alike in Form, but of a larger Mold,
More durable its Frame, its Tone more bold;
7
Flow to the Hills, and echo in the Vales;
The rural Throng now chearful croud around,
And catch, enamour'd, the inspiring Sound,
They walk and move with correspondent Mien,
And Dance exulting on the level Green:
No Secret now the raptur'd Heart conceals,
The conscious Maid her hidden Flames reveals,
In glowing Blushes on her Cheeks they rise,
Burst from her Tongue, and kindle in her Eyes.
But secret Pleasures once disclos'd to Sight,
Give Birth to fresh Successions of Delight.
On Objects new the restless Fancy strays,
And wantons in the Search of nobler Lays.
Extended Strings at length Experience found,
Start at the Touch, and tremble into Sound;
Of which a Vocal Multitude conspire,
In shining Order plac'd to form the Lyre:
And thus the Strings, as in a Choir combin'd,
Have each their Parts of Harmony assign'd:
Some heavenly Sounds transportingly create,
Like Echo some the heav'nly Sounds repeat,
Those plac'd above, rejoice in sprightly Tones,
Below the rough, hoarse Base, responsive, groans.
Give Birth to fresh Successions of Delight.
On Objects new the restless Fancy strays,
And wantons in the Search of nobler Lays.
8
Start at the Touch, and tremble into Sound;
Of which a Vocal Multitude conspire,
In shining Order plac'd to form the Lyre:
And thus the Strings, as in a Choir combin'd,
Have each their Parts of Harmony assign'd:
Some heavenly Sounds transportingly create,
Like Echo some the heav'nly Sounds repeat,
Those plac'd above, rejoice in sprightly Tones,
Below the rough, hoarse Base, responsive, groans.
If the judicious Artist bids them play,
The dancing Chords in silver Sounds obey;
But struck with Hands unskill'd, they spring to War,
Hiss out their Rage, and in harsh Discords jar.
The dancing Chords in silver Sounds obey;
But struck with Hands unskill'd, they spring to War,
Hiss out their Rage, and in harsh Discords jar.
9
Music henceforward more Domestick grew,
Courts the throng'd Towns, and from the Plains withdrew:
The Vagrant Bard his circling Visits pays,
And charms the Villages with venal Lays.
The solemn Harp, beneath his Shoulder plac'd,
With both his Arms is earnestly embrac'd,
Sweetly irregular, now swift, now slow,
With soft Variety his Numbers flow,
The shrill, the deep, the gentle, and the strong,
With pleasing Dissonance adorn his Song;
While thro' the Chords his Hands unweary'd range,
The Music changing as his Fingers change.
Courts the throng'd Towns, and from the Plains withdrew:
The Vagrant Bard his circling Visits pays,
And charms the Villages with venal Lays.
The solemn Harp, beneath his Shoulder plac'd,
With both his Arms is earnestly embrac'd,
Sweetly irregular, now swift, now slow,
With soft Variety his Numbers flow,
The shrill, the deep, the gentle, and the strong,
With pleasing Dissonance adorn his Song;
While thro' the Chords his Hands unweary'd range,
The Music changing as his Fingers change.
10
The Crowd transported in Attention hung,
Their Breath in Silence sleeps upon the Tongue,
The Wheels forget to turn, the Labours cease,
And ev'ry Sound but Music sinks to Peace.
So when the Thracian charm'd the Shades below,
And brought down Raptures to the Realms of Woe,
Despairing Ghosts from Labour stand releas'd,
Each Wheel, each Instrument of Torture ceas'd;
The Furies drop their Whips, afflictive Pain
Suspends, with ghastly Smiles, her Iron Reign,
All Groans were still'd, all Sorrow lull'd to Rest,
And ev'ry Care was hush'd in ev'ry Breast.
Their Breath in Silence sleeps upon the Tongue,
The Wheels forget to turn, the Labours cease,
And ev'ry Sound but Music sinks to Peace.
So when the Thracian charm'd the Shades below,
And brought down Raptures to the Realms of Woe,
Despairing Ghosts from Labour stand releas'd,
Each Wheel, each Instrument of Torture ceas'd;
The Furies drop their Whips, afflictive Pain
Suspends, with ghastly Smiles, her Iron Reign,
All Groans were still'd, all Sorrow lull'd to Rest,
And ev'ry Care was hush'd in ev'ry Breast.
Joy spreads her Wings o'er all the raptur'd Isle,
And bids each Face be brighten'd to a Smile.
Now Nature, pleas'd, her Gifts profusely pours,
To paint the chearful Earth with od'rous Flow'rs,
So chang'd a Scene she wonders to survey,
And bids ev'n Things inanimate look gay.
And bids each Face be brighten'd to a Smile.
11
To paint the chearful Earth with od'rous Flow'rs,
So chang'd a Scene she wonders to survey,
And bids ev'n Things inanimate look gay.
The Muses now from Albion's Isle retreat,
And here with kind Indulgence fix their Seat:
Then Viner rose, with all their Warmth inspir'd,
A Bard caress'd by all, by all admir'd;
He choral Strings, in sleepy Silence bound,
Touch'd into Voice, and waken'd into Sound;
Then taught those Sounds to flow with easy Art,
To wooe the Soul, and glide into the Heart,
In Notes, untry'd before, his Fancy drest,
And bid new Transports rise in ev'ry Breast.
And here with kind Indulgence fix their Seat:
Then Viner rose, with all their Warmth inspir'd,
A Bard caress'd by all, by all admir'd;
He choral Strings, in sleepy Silence bound,
Touch'd into Voice, and waken'd into Sound;
Then taught those Sounds to flow with easy Art,
To wooe the Soul, and glide into the Heart,
In Notes, untry'd before, his Fancy drest,
And bid new Transports rise in ev'ry Breast.
12
While round in Crowds the fair Creation stand,
The polish'd Viol trembling in his Hand,
While swift as Thought, from Note to Note he springs,
Flies o'er th' unerring Tones, and sweeps the sounding Strings,
The Old, the Young, the Serious, and the Gay,
With ravish'd Ears devour the 'witching Lay;
The Lover's Eyes now languishingly roll,
And speak the Dictates of the raptur'd Soul;
Foes, in whose Breasts the wildest Passion strove,
Forget their Rage, and soften into Love:
The prideful Beauty, feels with new Surprize
Her Bosom swell, and wonders why she sighs,
Each Passion acts as he affects the Heart,
And Nature answers ev'ry stroke of Art.
The polish'd Viol trembling in his Hand,
While swift as Thought, from Note to Note he springs,
Flies o'er th' unerring Tones, and sweeps the sounding Strings,
The Old, the Young, the Serious, and the Gay,
With ravish'd Ears devour the 'witching Lay;
The Lover's Eyes now languishingly roll,
And speak the Dictates of the raptur'd Soul;
Foes, in whose Breasts the wildest Passion strove,
Forget their Rage, and soften into Love:
The prideful Beauty, feels with new Surprize
Her Bosom swell, and wonders why she sighs,
Each Passion acts as he affects the Heart,
And Nature answers ev'ry stroke of Art.
13
But now refin'd Hibernia's ravish'd Throng,
With Wonder dwell on Nicolini's Song,
Whose warbling Voice and tuneful Tongue dispense,
The blended Harmony of Sound and Sense:
With these he knew the list'ning Soul to charm,
And ev'ry Torment of its Sting disarm,
Cou'd calm the harsh disturber Care, to Ease,
With Fear delight us, and with Sorrow please;
Cou'd warm the kindling Soul with am'rous Fire,
And Raptures, which he never felt, inspire.
With Wonder dwell on Nicolini's Song,
Whose warbling Voice and tuneful Tongue dispense,
The blended Harmony of Sound and Sense:
With these he knew the list'ning Soul to charm,
And ev'ry Torment of its Sting disarm,
Cou'd calm the harsh disturber Care, to Ease,
With Fear delight us, and with Sorrow please;
Cou'd warm the kindling Soul with am'rous Fire,
And Raptures, which he never felt, inspire.
While Music thus its native Beauty shows,
And from its living Spring delightful flows,
How does it raise! how gladden ev'ry Heart!
How far transcend the mimic Voice of Art!
And from its living Spring delightful flows,
How does it raise! how gladden ev'ry Heart!
How far transcend the mimic Voice of Art!
14
So, when Belinda's heav'nly Beauties stand,
Wrought into Life by Kneller's magic Hand,
Her Face, her Shape, have all that Art can give,
Start from the animated Paint, and Live;
But, when the real Nymph, divinely bright,
Array'd in native Lustre, strikes our Sight,
Some nameless Transport in our Bosom plays,
That Shade and Colour want the Force to raise.
Wrought into Life by Kneller's magic Hand,
Her Face, her Shape, have all that Art can give,
Start from the animated Paint, and Live;
But, when the real Nymph, divinely bright,
Array'd in native Lustre, strikes our Sight,
Some nameless Transport in our Bosom plays,
That Shade and Colour want the Force to raise.
Dubourg next sways the Soul with nicest Art,
And binds in airy Chains the captive Heart,
While from the vocal Strings, and shifting Bow,
At his nice Touch th' obsequious Numbers flow.
With easy Toil he swells the Notes aloud,
Now on the Ear precipitant they croud,
Now, scarcely heard, they gradually decay,
And with melodious Cadence waste away,
While at his melting Falls, and dying Notes,
Around the Heart the liquid Rapture floats.
And binds in airy Chains the captive Heart,
While from the vocal Strings, and shifting Bow,
At his nice Touch th' obsequious Numbers flow.
With easy Toil he swells the Notes aloud,
Now on the Ear precipitant they croud,
15
And with melodious Cadence waste away,
While at his melting Falls, and dying Notes,
Around the Heart the liquid Rapture floats.
With martial Ardour if he boldly warms,
The animated Hero pants for Arms,
With guiltless Rage th' impetuous Spirit glows,
And prostrates Legions of imagin'd Foes.
The animated Hero pants for Arms,
With guiltless Rage th' impetuous Spirit glows,
And prostrates Legions of imagin'd Foes.
But if to Mirth a sprightly Strain inclines,
With Humour fraught his quick'ning Genius shines,
Then smiling Joys thro' ev'ry Aspect fly,
Glow in the Lips, and wanton in the Eye.
With Humour fraught his quick'ning Genius shines,
Then smiling Joys thro' ev'ry Aspect fly,
Glow in the Lips, and wanton in the Eye.
16
Next Bocchi reigns, whom Art and Nature grace
To smooth the Roughness of the sullen Base,
Directs his Notes distinct to rise or fall,
Tries ev'ry Tone to charm, and charms in all.
To smooth the Roughness of the sullen Base,
Directs his Notes distinct to rise or fall,
Tries ev'ry Tone to charm, and charms in all.
Th' awaken'd Muse thus rises, thus refines,
Improves with Time, and in Perfection shines;
The first rude Lays are now but meanly priz'd,
As rude, neglected, as untun'd, despis'd:
Dead—(in Esteem too dead) the Bards that sung,
The Fife neglected, and the Harp unstrung.
Improves with Time, and in Perfection shines;
The first rude Lays are now but meanly priz'd,
As rude, neglected, as untun'd, despis'd:
Dead—(in Esteem too dead) the Bards that sung,
The Fife neglected, and the Harp unstrung.
So when the Thrush exalts his chearful Throat,
To glad the Fields with many an artless Note,
With rude Delight the List'ner's Breast he warms,
Wild tho' he sings, his sylvan Wildness charms;
But if the warbling Nightingale prepares
Her softer Voice, that melts with thrilling Airs,
The Winds are hush'd, still Silence reigns around,
And list'ning Echo dwells upon the Sound;
Harsh seem the Strains which gave Delight before,
And far excell'd, those Strains delight no more.
To glad the Fields with many an artless Note,
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Wild tho' he sings, his sylvan Wildness charms;
But if the warbling Nightingale prepares
Her softer Voice, that melts with thrilling Airs,
The Winds are hush'd, still Silence reigns around,
And list'ning Echo dwells upon the Sound;
Harsh seem the Strains which gave Delight before,
And far excell'd, those Strains delight no more.
The pausing Muse now shuts her vent'rous Wings,
And, anxious of Success, distrustful sings;
O! might her Lays to thy Esteem succeed,
For whom she tun'd her artless Voice and Reed,
Thy Smiles would swell her Heart with honest Pride,
Approv'd by thee she scorns the World beside.
And, anxious of Success, distrustful sings;
O! might her Lays to thy Esteem succeed,
For whom she tun'd her artless Voice and Reed,
Thy Smiles would swell her Heart with honest Pride,
Approv'd by thee she scorns the World beside.
| Poems on Several Occasions | |