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Updated: May 4, 2025
'I will talk to thee then of our early years, said Ione. 'Shall yon blind girl sing to thee of the days of childhood? Her voice is sweet and musical, and she hath a song on that theme which contains none of those allusions it pains thee to hear. 'Dost thou remember the words, my sister? asked Apaecides. 'Methinks yes; for the tune, which is simple, fixed them on my memory.
Oh, Gregory," she turned her face to her husband's breast, "the birds were beginning to sing and I thought that I should never see you again." When the door had shut behind Gregory, Madame von Marwitz spoke, her eyes still closed: "Am I now permitted to rise?" Mrs. Talcott released her ankles and stood up.
Do what you will with me: sell me and my brother, put us to turn a mill but I will not sing in the temple!"
The story is told of a young lady whose musical education had been utterly hollow and false, but who, having been overwhelmed with flattery for her voice and her singing, was deluded into a belief that she was destined to shine as a star on the operatic stage. She consulted the famous basso, Karl Formes, who good-naturedly had her sing for him.
But did not our own artistic prisoner once sing: Surely there was a time I might have trod The sunlit heights, and from life's dissonance Struck one clear chord to reach the ears of God? Was ever more devout Catholic than Benvenuto Cellini, who murdered his enemies and counted his beads equal gusto?
Only the merry serenaders, who in those times used to sing under the balconies, would now and then give him a crumb of their feast for pure fun's sake; and after a while, because they could not find out his full name, called him, at hazard, George but always prefixing Monsieur.
'Jerusalem, my happy home, Name ever dear to me. So we sing, and it is the echo of the song that went up from the heart of many a Jew in olden time. We all love our native land, our dear old England, yet none of us love it as the Jews loved Jerusalem. 'Great is the Lord, and greatly to be praised in the city of our God, in the mountain of His holiness.
There have been revelations to tell us we needed movements and exercises to quicken our spiritual powers, and to give energy and unity to our worship, and there have been revelations telling us to give them up; revelations bidding us to sing more, revelations telling us to use wordless songs. Then anthems were given us, and so it has gone on, for we have been led of the Spirit."
"Adagio molto espressivo, sempre legato," she read next. O, here's another with some more. Andante patetico." And she began to glance over the music. "O dear me," she thought, "he must be terribly modern! It all seems discords to me. Let's try the air. It is very strange, it seems familiar." She began to sing it, and suddenly broke off with laughter.
As May stood upon the balcony, gazing far out over the lagoon, her young eyes undazzled by the intense mid-day light, she thought how sweet it would be to see again that look of grateful pleasure upon the worn face. Ah, she would sing! How she would sing! She would sing the heart into those people in the gondolas; she would sing the money out of their purses!
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