United States or Timor-Leste ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Yet such is far from the case, for it seems as though the greater the artistic temperament the more truly the artist feels and the more of himself he puts into the music he sings the greater his nervousness beforehand. The latter is of course augmented if the performance is a first night and the opera has as yet been untried before a larger public.
It as was if Arthur, from the top of the highest peak beyond the Rocky Mountains, and Gretchen, from her lonely grave in far-off Germany, were calling to each other across two continents, their voices meeting and mingling together in the Tramp House in a jubilistic strain, now wild and weird like the cry of the dying woman looking out into the stormy night, now soft and low as the lullaby a fond mother sings to her sleeping child, and now swelling louder and louder, and higher and higher, until the rafters rang with the joyous music, and the whole world outside was filled with the song of gladness.
Now he drives them along the extended green, and in a wild and thoughtless note carols a lively lay. He sings perhaps of the kind, but bashful shepherdess. His hat is bound about with ribbon; the memorial of her coy compliance and much-prized favour. How light is his heart, how chearful his gait, and how gay his countenance!
"Yes," replied Jemmy, thoughtfully. "And in company with that supernatual cur of his?" Jemmy nodded his head, and then in his abstraction touched the strings of his violin. "They say that you are clever with your instrument, Mr Salisbury," observed Nancy Corbett. "That he is," replied Moggy; "and he sings like a darling duck. Don't you, Jemmy, my dear?" "Quack, quack," replied Jemmy.
At the word he rises to his hind legs, hunches his shoulders, and lunges awkwardly round in a circle, while the foreigner sings Horry, horry, dum-dum, and his wife passes the hat. We children pity the bear, as we watch, and forget the other animal that frightens us when near the woods at night. But he passes on at last, with a troop of boys following to the town limits.
Put him in really happy circumstances, and he grumbles himself hoarse; give him something really to grumble at, and he is cheerful; give him misery, and he sings.
Desire sings a siren music in our ears; but the bones of those who have surrendered to the song lie bleaching on the rocks. These sweet anticipations presage sorrow and ruin; there is no heavier sight than to see happy, heedless youth caught by the lure of this strange, mysterious thrill and drifting to their destruction-"As a bird hasteth to the snare, And know not that it is for his life."
It sings to me in the night, "I loved you." 145 The flaming fire warns me off by its own glow. Save me from the dying embers hidden under ashes. 146 I have my stars in the sky, But oh for my little lamp unlit in my house. 147 The dust of the dead words clings to thee. Wash thy soul with silence. 148 Gaps are left in life through which comes the sad music of death.
In recitative poetry metrical annals after the model of those of Ennius seem not to have been wanting; but they were perhaps sufficiently criticised by that graceful vow of his mistress of which Catullus sings that the worst of the bad heroic poems should be presented as a sacrifice to holy Venus, if she would only bring back her lover from his vile political poetry to her arms. Lucretius
Just when you think you've got your hand on a pretty bird she flutters away and sings merrily in another part of the wood." "Right!" ejaculated Congdon. "By George, that expresses it exactly!" "About your child, up there in Michigan," said Archie, pleased that he was scoring as a man of wisdom, "it's wholly possible that your wife sent you the wire as an approach to a reconciliation."