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I was particularly honoured in the columns of those smaller journals of which Meyerbeer had as yet taken no account, and several good criticisms now appeared. In one of these I read that my Tannhauser was la symphonie chantee.
Then, bestirring herself with an effort, her white fingers ran over the keys again, and in her sweet, musical voice she sang "L'Heure d'Aimer," that pretty valse chantee so popular in Paris: Voici l'heure d'aimer, l'heure des tendresses; Dis-moi les mots tres doux qui vont me griser, Ah! prends-moi dans tes bras, fais-moi des caresses; Je veux mourir pour revivre sous ton baiser.
With this was mixed the desire to taste a more exquisite and various music than that of the older French verse, or of the classical poets. The music of the measured, scanned verse of Latin and Greek poetry is one thing; the music of the rhymed, unscanned verse of Villon and the old French poets, la poesie chantee, is another.
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