 | Sounds and Sweet Airs |  |
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On First Hearing Handel's Messiah.
Inscribed to the Memory of Sir Robert P. Stuart,
Mus. Doc.
What grace had come to me? I was to hear
The first great music that I ever heard;
The name of Handel woke my inward ear
With summoning thunders. Music!—that siren word
Called me, as the far voice of the unknown sea
The new-fledged sea-bird; shone like the mystic star
That once to Bethlehem led young Balthazar;
My eager heart beat with adventurous glee,
Expecting some new glorious avatar.
The first great music that I ever heard;
The name of Handel woke my inward ear
With summoning thunders. Music!—that siren word
Called me, as the far voice of the unknown sea
The new-fledged sea-bird; shone like the mystic star
That once to Bethlehem led young Balthazar;
My eager heart beat with adventurous glee,
Expecting some new glorious avatar.
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And when from noisy traffic of the street
Into the grey cathedral vast and dim,
Leaving life's festering ways, I turned my feet,
I felt the wings of silent seraphim
O'ershadow me as I entered there, and stood
Mid the hushed crowd as for a miracle
Waiting. Phantoms they seemed, myself as well,
When in that silence, thronged like solitude
With unseen powers, awe on my spirit fell.
Into the grey cathedral vast and dim,
Leaving life's festering ways, I turned my feet,
I felt the wings of silent seraphim
O'ershadow me as I entered there, and stood
Mid the hushed crowd as for a miracle
Waiting. Phantoms they seemed, myself as well,
When in that silence, thronged like solitude
With unseen powers, awe on my spirit fell.
Then gloriously, as through night's gloom profound
Soar the light-shedding plumes of day new-born,
Silence was quickened with majestic sound;
The organ, heralding redemption's morn,
Prophesied in that divine primæval tongue
Men caught from angels, ere on Shinar's plain
Confusion fell on Babel, and now again
Heard, as though Morning Stars o'er earth made young
Breathed from sweet flutes a glad prelusive strain.
Soar the light-shedding plumes of day new-born,
Silence was quickened with majestic sound;
The organ, heralding redemption's morn,
Prophesied in that divine primæval tongue
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Confusion fell on Babel, and now again
Heard, as though Morning Stars o'er earth made young
Breathed from sweet flutes a glad prelusive strain.
And then a voice I heard, falling like dew
Of consolation gently out of heaven,
Say: “Comfort ye my people!” and renew
Promise of blessing and peace, with sin forgiven.
It ceased. Once more the billowing organ pealed;
Like angels hovering o'er a sunlit sea
Voices that shone proclaimed exultingly:
“The Glory of the Lord shall be revealed!”
I was exalted in that ecstasy.
Of consolation gently out of heaven,
Say: “Comfort ye my people!” and renew
Promise of blessing and peace, with sin forgiven.
It ceased. Once more the billowing organ pealed;
Like angels hovering o'er a sunlit sea
Voices that shone proclaimed exultingly:
“The Glory of the Lord shall be revealed!”
I was exalted in that ecstasy.
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I stood in heaven. Like an illumined scroll
Wherein each word upsoared a singing flame,
I saw the Epic of the World unroll;
Old Scriptures holy with the anointed Name
Burst into song. As grey o'erwintered trees,
Their buds within them dumb, sleep till the Spring
Calls, and each leaf awakes, a living thing,
Even so these words, embalming mysteries,
Awoke from sleep new born, to shine and sing.
Wherein each word upsoared a singing flame,
I saw the Epic of the World unroll;
Old Scriptures holy with the anointed Name
Burst into song. As grey o'erwintered trees,
Their buds within them dumb, sleep till the Spring
Calls, and each leaf awakes, a living thing,
Even so these words, embalming mysteries,
Awoke from sleep new born, to shine and sing.
Like mounting larks, glad minstrels of the morn,
The Sons of Joy leaped from earth's kindling sod,
Singing: “For unto us a Child is born,
Wonderful, Counsellor, the Mighty God,
The Prince of Peace!” In golden thunders rang
The rapturous fugue to heaven, from deep to deep
Echoing those mighty words, that seemed to sweep
Through holier heights the seraphs as they sang,
Till peace hushed the sick world like healing sleep.
The Sons of Joy leaped from earth's kindling sod,
Singing: “For unto us a Child is born,
Wonderful, Counsellor, the Mighty God,
The Prince of Peace!” In golden thunders rang
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Echoing those mighty words, that seemed to sweep
Through holier heights the seraphs as they sang,
Till peace hushed the sick world like healing sleep.
The peace of God; for in man's desolate soul
God came to dwell. Peace like a canopy
Folded the shepherds when divinely stole
Through the still night the Pastoral Symphony,
And heavenly children sang the Saviour's birth.
Then suddenly flaming wings throbbed in the air
Like summer lightning: all heaven's host was there:
“Glory to God in the highest, and peace on earth,
Good will toward men!” So sang those heralds fair.
God came to dwell. Peace like a canopy
Folded the shepherds when divinely stole
Through the still night the Pastoral Symphony,
And heavenly children sang the Saviour's birth.
Then suddenly flaming wings throbbed in the air
Like summer lightning: all heaven's host was there:
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Good will toward men!” So sang those heralds fair.
O Son of Man, sad earth's rejected King,
Light of the World, still blindly seeking light,
Who first made holiness a human thing,
Did man but dream thy coming? Shall endless night
Mock us with hope? Did he who touched with fire
Isaiah's lips move in these blinder days
This glorious Bard vainly to hymn thy praise?
Or did the Spirit of Truth indeed inspire
This Prophet, walking in God's ancient ways?
Light of the World, still blindly seeking light,
Who first made holiness a human thing,
Did man but dream thy coming? Shall endless night
Mock us with hope? Did he who touched with fire
Isaiah's lips move in these blinder days
This glorious Bard vainly to hymn thy praise?
Or did the Spirit of Truth indeed inspire
This Prophet, walking in God's ancient ways?
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Answering from heaven, the music seemed to fall
In benediction on all things opprest,
Proclaiming still that Shepherd come to call
His wandering sheep, and give the weary rest;
Till, with: “His yoke is easy,” tranquilly
The Book of Peace closed, and I heard no more
The tasks of Time claimed me. Yet still I bore
Peace in my soul, as from a sanctuary
The blessed wine a cup ne'er filled before.
In benediction on all things opprest,
Proclaiming still that Shepherd come to call
His wandering sheep, and give the weary rest;
Till, with: “His yoke is easy,” tranquilly
The Book of Peace closed, and I heard no more
The tasks of Time claimed me. Yet still I bore
Peace in my soul, as from a sanctuary
The blessed wine a cup ne'er filled before.
As though a prophet's vision I had seen
I went my way. The gracious tenderness
Of that great music from the realm serene
Where dwell the mightiest spirits had come to bless
My spirit for ever with a sane delight.
I had heard the angels sing; and from that hour
Their songs awake at Handel's word of power,
Like ocean's voice for majesty and might,
In beauty perfect as a lily's flower.
I went my way. The gracious tenderness
Of that great music from the realm serene
Where dwell the mightiest spirits had come to bless
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I had heard the angels sing; and from that hour
Their songs awake at Handel's word of power,
Like ocean's voice for majesty and might,
In beauty perfect as a lily's flower.
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