To the throbbing of the bells- In a happy Runic rhyme, To the moaning and the groaning of the bells. EDGAR ALLAN POE. Alexander's Feast; or, the Power of Music. AN ODE IN HONOR OF ST. CECILIA'S DAY. "Twas at the royal feast for Persia won The godlike hero sate His valiant peers were placed around, Their brows with roses and with myrtles bound; (So should desert in arms be crowned); The lovely Thais by his side Sate, like a blooming eastern bride, None but the brave, None but the brave, None but the brave deserves the fair. CHORUS. Happy, happy, happy pair ! None but the brave, None but the brave, None but the brave deserves the fair. Timotheus, placed on high With flying fingers touched the lyre; The trembling notes ascend the sky, And heavenly joys inspire. ALEXANDER'S FEAST. 667 His glowing cheeks, his ardent eyes; He sung Darius great and good, Fallen, fallen, fallen, fallen Fallen from his high estate, By those his former bounty fed; The various turns of chance below; CHORUS. Revolving in his altered soul The various turns of chance below; And, now and then, a sigh he stole ; And tears began to flow. The mighty master smiled, to see Softly sweet, in Lydian measures, Never ending, still beginning - Take the goods the gods provide thee. cause. The prince, unable to conceal his pain, Gazed on the fair Who caused his care, And sighed and looked, sighed and looked, Sighed and looked, and sighed again. At length, with love and wine at once pressed, The vanquished victor sunk upon her breast. CHORUS. The prince, unable to conceal his pain, Gazed on the fair Who caused his care, And sighed and looked, sighed and looked, Sighed and looked, and sighed again. At length, with love and wine at once oppressed, The vanquished victor sunk upon her breast. Now strike the golden lyre again - And rouse him, like a rattling peal of thunder. Has raised up his head! See the Furies arise! See the snakes that they rear, And the sparkles that flash from their eyes! Each a torch in his hand! op ! Armed knights go forth to redress wrongs, some in The deeds of ruthless brigands, rapine, murder; I I see the tournament, I see the contestants, encased I see ships foundering at sea; I behold on deck, I hear the shouts, the sounds of blows and smiting steel: I see the crusaders' tumultuous armies. Hark! Lo! where the monks walk in advance, bearing the Blow again, trumpeter! and for thy theme Take now the enclosing theme of all, the solvent O trumpeter! methinks I am myself the instru- | ment thou playest! Thou melt'st my heart, my brain; thou movest, drawest, changest them, at will: And now thy sullen notes send darknessthrough me; Thou takest away all cheering light, all hope: I see the enslaved, the overthrown, the hurt, the opprest of the whole earth; I feel the measureless shame and humiliation of my race, it becomes all mine; Love, that is pulse of all, the sustenance and the Mine too the revenges of humanity, the wrongs of pang; The heart of man and woman all for love: No other theme but love, knitting, enclosing, all- ages, baffled feuds and hatreds; Utter defeat upon me weighs: all lost! the foe victorious! Yet 'mid the ruins Pride colossal stands, unshaken to the last; Oh, how the immortal phantoms crowd around Endurance, resolution, to the last. me! I see the vast alembic ever working, I see and Now, trumpeter, for thy close, The glow, the blush, the beating hearts of lov- Vouchsafe a higher strain than any yet; ers, So blissful happy some, and some so silent, dark, Love, that is all the earth to lovers; Love that Love, that is day and night; Love, that is sun and Sing to my soul, renew its languishing faith and hope: Rouse up my slow belief, give me some vision of the future; Give me, for once, its prophecy and joy. O glad, exulting, culminating song! Love, that is crimson, sumptuous, sick with per- A vigor more than earth's is in thy notes! No other words, but words of love; no other Marches of victory, man disenthralled, the conqueror at last! Hymns to the universal God, from universal Man, all joy! Blow again, trumpeter! conjure war's wild alar- A re-born race appears, a perfect world, all joy! ums. Swift to thy spell, a shuddering hum like distant Women and men in wisdom, innocence, and health, all joy! Riotous, laughing Bacchanals, filled with joy! clouds of dust, the glint of bayonets; I see the grime-faced cannoniers; I mark the rosy purged: nothing but joy left! The ocean filled with joy, the atmosphere all joy! Nor war alone: thy fearful music-song, wild player, Enough to merely be! Enough to breathe! Joy! joy! all over joy! WALT WHITMAN. |