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"Where did you learn it?" he asked, for he had had two surprises that night. "Of my mother at St. Malo," she replied. "She was half English of Jersey. You are a naughty boy," she added, with a little gurgle of laughter in her throat. "You are not a good soldier to go a-chase of the French girls 'cross of the river." "Shure I am not a good soldier thin. Music's me game.
Long and dubious has been the music's struggle with pain, but at last, in great simplicity, the voices of the men give out the immortal theme, and the whole universe joins in harmony with a thunder of exultation: "Seid umschlungen, Millionen, Diesen Kuss der ganzen Welt!" Surely at the Hague Conference, in the fulfilment of time, peace had come on earth and goodwill among men.
He had never seen her look so lovely. At her worst she was a handsome and noble-looking woman, but now the shadow from without, and though he knew nothing of that, the shadow from her heart within also, aided maybe by the music's swell, had softened and purified her face till it did indeed look almost like an angel's.
We were down from the stars at once, but I saw nothing to laugh at, and said as much. "We might take them out some sandwiches and things to drink," persisted my Little Miss. But the starlight had shown me a gleam in her eyes that was too outrageously Peavey. "We will not" I chanted firmly to the music's mellowed accompaniment.
Act third shows David playing upon the harp before Saul, and chanting Saul's deeds in the service and defence of Israel so that he calms the agonised delirium of the haunted king and wins his blessing; but at last a boastful word makes discord in the music's charm, and Saul is suddenly roused into a ghastly fury.
Ah, Fleetly Music's Gay Measure. Breaking on the first word of the last line, Passes. And then on the word, 'Away, you must begin to die... to fade... until 'The Listening Ear' is nothing more than a faint whisper... You can slow down as much as you like almost on the last line. Now, please." Again the two light taps; she lifted her arms again. 'Fast!
Lady Shaftesbury describes "the great, though unhappy, Handel, dejected, wan and dark, sitting by, not playing on, the harpsichord," and adds that "his light had been spent in being overplied in music's cause."
The thousand heartaches; the fingers clutching hungrily at keys that might be other fingers; the fiddler with his eyelids clenched while he dreams that the violin, against his cheek is the satin cheek of "the inexpressive She;" the singer with a cry in every note; the moonlit youth with the mandolin tinkling his serenade to an ivied window; the dead-marches; the nocturnes; the amorous waltzes; the duets; the trills and trinkets of flirtatious scherzi; the laughing roulades; the discords melted into concord as solitude into the arms of reunion these are music's very own.
"and ten thousand sit, Patiently present at a sacred song, Commemoration-mad, content to hear, O wonderful effect of music's power, Messiah's eulogy for Handal's sake!"
Save some seats, which were artfully formed to resemble lyres, nothing broke the continuity of music's tones, which ascended majestically to the lofty dome, there to blend and wreath, and fall again. At one extremity of music's hall was an organ; at the other a grand piano, built by a German composer.
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