Contents -BIBLIOGRAPHIC RECORD

John Dryden (1631–1700). The Poems of John Dryden. 1913.

Songs, Odes, and Lyrical Pieces

A Song for St. Cecilia’s Day, November 22, 1687

FROM Harmony, from heav’nly Harmony

This universal Frame began;

When Nature underneath a heap

Of jarring Atomes lay,

And cou’d not heave her Head.

The tuneful Voice was heard from high,

Arise, ye more than dead.

Then cold and hot and moist and dry

In order to their Stations leap,

And MUSICK’S pow’r obey.

From Harmony, from heavenly Harmony

This universal Frame began:

From Harmony to Harmony

Through all the Compass of the Notes it ran,

The Diapason closing full in Man.

What Passion cannot MUSICK raise and quell?

When Jubal struck the corded Shell,

His listening Brethren stood around,

And, wond’ring, on their Faces fell

To worship that Celestial Sound:

Less than a God they thought there could not dwell

Within the hollow of that Shell,

That spoke so sweetly, and so well.

What Passion cannot MUSICK raise and quell?

The TRUMPETS loud Clangor

Excites us to Arms

With shrill Notes of Anger

And mortal Alarms.

The double double double beat

Of the thund’ring DRUM

Cryes, heark the Foes come;

Charge, Charge, ’tis too late to retreat.

The soft complaining FLUTE

In dying Notes discovers

The Woes of hopeless Lovers,

Whose Dirge is whisper’d by the warbling LUTE.

Sharp VIOLINS proclaim

Their jealous Pangs and Desperation,

Fury, frantick Indignation,

Depth of Pains and Height of Passion,

For the fair, disdainful Dame.

But oh! what Art can teach

What human Voice can reach

The sacred ORGANS Praise?

Notes inspiring holy Love,

Notes that wing their heavenly Ways

To mend the Choires above.

Orpheus cou’d lead the savage race,

And Trees unrooted left their Place,

Sequacious of the Lyre;

But bright CECILIA rais’d the Wonder high’r:

When to her Organ vocal Breath was given,

An Angel heard, and straight appear’d

Mistaking Earth for Heav’n.

As from the Pow’r of Sacred Lays

The Spheres began to move,

And sung the great Creator’s Praise

To all the bless’d above;

So, when the last and dreadful Hour

This crumbling Pageant shall devour,

The TRUMPET shall be heard on high,

The dead shall live, the living die,

And MUSICK shall untune the Sky.