 | The poems of Dr. Yalden |  |
AN ODE FOR ST. CECILIA'S DAY,
1693.
Begin, and strike th' harmonious lyre!
Let the loud instruments prepare
To raise our souls, and charm the ear,
With joys which Music only can inspire:
Hark how the willing strings obey!
To consecrate this happy day,
Sacred to Music, Love, and blest Cecilia.
In lofty numbers, tuneful lays,
We'll celebrate the virgin's praise:
Her skilful hand first taught our strings to move,
To her this sacred art we owe,
Who first anticipated Heaven below,
And play'd the hymns on Earth, that she now sings above.
Let the loud instruments prepare
To raise our souls, and charm the ear,
With joys which Music only can inspire:
Hark how the willing strings obey!
To consecrate this happy day,
Sacred to Music, Love, and blest Cecilia.
In lofty numbers, tuneful lays,
We'll celebrate the virgin's praise:
Her skilful hand first taught our strings to move,
To her this sacred art we owe,
Who first anticipated Heaven below,
And play'd the hymns on Earth, that she now sings above.
What moving charms each tuneful voice contains,
Charms that through the willing ear
A tide of pleasing raptures bear,
And with diffusive joys, run thrilling through our veins.
The listening soul does sympathize,
And with each vary'd note complies:
While gay and sprightly airs delight,
Then, free from cares, and unconfin'd,
It takes, in pleasing ecstasies, its flight.
With mournful sounds, a sadder garb it wears,
Indulges grief, and gives a loose to tears.
Charms that through the willing ear
A tide of pleasing raptures bear,
And with diffusive joys, run thrilling through our veins.
The listening soul does sympathize,
And with each vary'd note complies:
While gay and sprightly airs delight,
Then, free from cares, and unconfin'd,
It takes, in pleasing ecstasies, its flight.
With mournful sounds, a sadder garb it wears,
Indulges grief, and gives a loose to tears.
Music's the language of the blest above,
No voice but Music's can express
The joys that happy souls possess,
Nor in just raptures tell the wond'rous power of love.
'Tis Nature's dialect, design'd
To charm, and to instruct the mind.
Music's an universal good!
That does dispense its joys around,
In all the elegance of sound,
To be by men admir'd, by angels understood.
No voice but Music's can express
The joys that happy souls possess,
Nor in just raptures tell the wond'rous power of love.
'Tis Nature's dialect, design'd
To charm, and to instruct the mind.
Music's an universal good!
That does dispense its joys around,
In all the elegance of sound,
To be by men admir'd, by angels understood.
Let every restless passion cease to move!
And each tumultuous thought obey
The happy influence of this day,
For Music's unity and love,
Music's the soft indulger of the mind,
The kind diverter of our care,
The surest refuge mournful grief can find;
A cordial to the breast, and charm to every ear.
Thus, when the prophet struck his tuneful lyre,
Saul's evil genius did retire:
In vain were remedies apply'd,
In vain all other arts were try'd:
His hand and voice alone the charm could find,
To heal his body, and compose his mind.
And each tumultuous thought obey
The happy influence of this day,
For Music's unity and love,
Music's the soft indulger of the mind,
The kind diverter of our care,
The surest refuge mournful grief can find;
A cordial to the breast, and charm to every ear.
Thus, when the prophet struck his tuneful lyre,
Saul's evil genius did retire:
In vain were remedies apply'd,
In vain all other arts were try'd:
His hand and voice alone the charm could find,
To heal his body, and compose his mind.
Now let the trumpet's louder voice proclaim
A solemn jubilee:
For ever sacred let it be,
To skilful Jubal's, and Cecilia's name.
Great Jubal, author of our lays,
Who first the hidden charms of Music found;
And through their airy paths did trace
The secret springs of sound.
When from his hollow chorded shell
The soft melodious accents fell,
With wonder and delight he play'd,
While the harmonious strings his skilful hand obey'd.
A solemn jubilee:
For ever sacred let it be,
To skilful Jubal's, and Cecilia's name.
Great Jubal, author of our lays,
Who first the hidden charms of Music found;
And through their airy paths did trace
The secret springs of sound.
When from his hollow chorded shell
The soft melodious accents fell,
With wonder and delight he play'd,
While the harmonious strings his skilful hand obey'd.
But fair Cecilia to a pitch divine
Improv'd her artful lays:
When to the organ she her voice did join,
In the Almighty's praise;
Then choirs of listening angels stood around,
Admir'd her art, and blest the heavenly sound.
Her praise alone no tongue can reach,
But in the strains herself did teach:
Then let the voice and lyre combine,
And in a tuneful concert join;
For Music's her reward and care,
Above sh' enjoys it, and protects it here,
Improv'd her artful lays:
When to the organ she her voice did join,
In the Almighty's praise;
Then choirs of listening angels stood around,
Admir'd her art, and blest the heavenly sound.
Her praise alone no tongue can reach,
But in the strains herself did teach:
Then let the voice and lyre combine,
And in a tuneful concert join;
For Music's her reward and care,
Above sh' enjoys it, and protects it here,
GRAND CHORUS.
Then kindly treat this happy day,And grateful honours to Cecilia pay:
To her these lov'd harmonious rites belong,
To her that tunes our strings, and still inspires our song.
| The poems of Dr. Yalden | |