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Updated: June 23, 2025
From these founts and streams it was that the fair Persian sought to entice her lord, with "Fly to the desert, fly with me!" "When breathing, as she did, a tone To earthly lutes and lips unknown; With every chord fresh from the touch Of Music's spirit, 'twas too much!" "The light of the universe" overcomes even the "conqueror of the world."
Summer had spread her richest treasures upon the lap of Nature; and the fairy hands of Beatrice transformed the bare walls of the dilapidated edifice which they inhabited into bowers of luxuriant foliage; the most delicious fruit also, the spontaneous product of the garden, cooled at some crystal fount and heaped with flowers, tempted her brother's languid appetite; and, waking the soft notes of her lute, she soothed his desponding spirit with music's gentlest sound.
Then hot and cold, and moist and dry, In order to their stations leap, And music's power obey.
Here are those of the lines that I remember, or, rather, the spirit of them rendered into English. I sang the first verse and waited. "Dear maid of mine, / I bid my strings Beat on thy shrine / With music's wings. Palace or cell / A shrine I see, If there thou dwell / And answer me." There was no answer, so I sang the second verse and once more waited.
Musicians are but too apt to give to music's detail and music's difficulties the homage that should be paid to music's self: in this resembling the habitual man of law, who occasionally forgetteth the great principles of jurisprudence, and invests with mysterious agency such words as latitat and certiorari.
The music's ready, the morning's bright, Step together left, right, left, right, We carry no gun, Yet devil a one But knows how to march in Tipperary O! By twelves and sixteens on we go, Rank'd four deep in close order O! For order's the way To carry the day, March steadily, men of Tipperary O!
But it was a horror which nothing wholly lulled to sleep at last but Vivia's singing. Every night, for an hour or more, Vivia wrought the music's spell about him, while he lay back in his chair, and little Jane retreated across the hearth, not daring to intrude on such a season.
Though there was a sound of revelry or devilry by night in the enemy's camp, ours was not passed in music, and we could not therefore listen to the low harmonics that undertone sweet music's roll. Gibson got one of the horses which was in sight, to go and find the others, while Mr.
The flea and bug suck up my blood, as wight that drinks * Wine from the proffering hand of fair virginity: Amid the lice my body aye remindeth me * Of orphan's good in Kazi's claw of villainy: My home's a sepulchre that measures cubits three, * Where pass I morn and eve in chained agony: My wines are tears, my clank of chains takes music's stead, * Cares my dessert of fruit and sorrows are my bed."
I see a world at peace, adorned with every form of art, with music's myriad voices thrilled, while lips are rich with words of love and truth a world in which no exile sighs, no prisoner mourns; a world on which the gibbet's shadow does not fall; a world where labor reaps its full reward where work and worth go hand in hand!
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