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An ode on Saint Caecilia's Day

Adapted to The Ancient British Musick. As it was performed On the Twenty-second of November [by Bonnell Thornton]
Thornton, Bonnell (1724-1768)

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AN ODE On Saint CÆCILIA's Day.

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Cedite, Tibicines Itali, vos cedite, Galli;
Dico iterum vobis, cedite, Tibicines.
Cedite, Tibicines, vobis ter dico; quaterque
Jam vobis dico, cedite, Tibicines.
Alex. Heinsius.

7

AN ODE On Saint CÆCILIA's Day.

CHORUS.

Be dumb, be dumb, ye inharmonious Sounds,
And Musick, that th'astonish'd Ear with Discord wounds:
No more let vulgar Rhymes profane the Day,
Grac'd with divine Cæcilia's Name;
Let solemn Hymns this awful Feast proclaim,
And heav'nly Notes conspire to raise the heav'nly Lay.
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Recitative.

The viler Melody we scorn,
Which meaner Instruments afford;
Shrill Flute, sharp Fiddle, bellowing Horn,
Rumbling Bassoon, or tinkling Harpsichord.

AIR.

In Strains more exalted the Salt Box shall join,
And Clattering, and Battering, and Clapping combine.
With a Rap and a Tap while the hollow Side sounds,
Up and down leaps the Flap, and with Rattling rebounds.
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Recitative.

Strike, strike the soft Judaic Harp,
By Teeth coercive in firm Durance kept,
And lightly by the volant Finger swept.

AIR.

Buzzing twangs the Iron Lyre,
Shrilly thrilling,
Trembling, trilling,
Whizzing with the wav'ring Wire.

AIR.

Hark, how the banging Marrow Bones
Make clanging Cleavers ring,
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With a ding dong, ding dong,
Ding dong, ding dong,
Ding dong, ding dong, ding dong, ding.
Raise your uplifted Arms on high;
In long-prolonged Tones
Let Cleavers sound
A merry merry Round
By banging Marrow Bones.

CHORUS.

Raise your uplifted Arms on high;
In long-prolonged Tones
Let Cleavers sound
A merry merry Round
By banging Marrow Bones.
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Recitative.

Cease, lighter Numbers: Hither bring
The undulating String
Stretch'd out, and to the tumid Bladder
In Amity harmonious bound;
Then deeper swell the Notes and sadder,
And let the hoarse Base slowly solemn sound.

AIR.

With dead, dull, doleful, heavy Hums,
With dismal Moans,
And mournful Groans,
The sober Hurdy Gurdy thrums.
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Recitative.

With Magick Sounds, like these, did Orpheus' Lyre
Motion, Sense, and Life inspire;
When, as he play'd, the list'ning Flood
Still'd its loquacious Waves, and silent stood;
The Trees swift-bounding danc'd with loosen'd Stumps,
And sluggish Stones caper'd in active Jumps.

AIR.

Each ruddy-breasted Robin
The Concert bore a Bob in,
And ev'ry hooting Owl around;
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The croaking Frogs,
The grunting Hogs,
All, all conspire to join the ecchoing Sound.

Grand CHORUS.

Now to Cæcilia, heav'nly Maid,
Your loud united Voices raise:
With solemn Joy to celebrate her Praise,
Each Instrument shall lend its Aid.
The Salt Box with Clattering and Clapping shall sound,
The Iron Lyre
Buzzing twang with wav'ring Wire,
With heavy Hum
The Hurdy Gurdy sadly thrum,
And the merry merry Marrow Bones ring round.
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Such matchless Strains Cæcilia knew,
When Angels from their heav'nly Sphere
By Harmony's strong Pow'r she drew,
Whilst ev'ry Spirit above would gladly stoop to hear.
FINIS.
 

By some called a Hum-Strum.

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