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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=539523" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Passions. An Ode to Music</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=539523" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">When Music, heav'nly maid, was young, <br> While yet in early Greece she sung, <br> The Passions oft, to hear her shell, <br> Throng'd around her magic cell, <br> Exulting, trembling, raging, fainting, <br> Possest beyond the Muse's painting; <br> By turns they felt the glowing mind <br> Disturb'd, delighted, rais'd, refin'd: <br> Till once, 'tis said, when all were fir'd, <br> Fill'd with fury, rapt, inspir'd, <br> From the supporting myrtles round <br> They snatch'd her instruments of sound; <br> And as they oft had heard apart <br> Sweet lessons of her forceful art, <br> Each, for madness rul'd the hour, <br> Would prove his own expressive pow'r. </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=539523" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"> First Fear his hand, its skill to try, <br> Amid the chords bewilder'd laid, <br> And back recoil'd, he knew not why, <br> Ev'n at the sound himself had made. </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=539523" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"> Next Anger rush'd; his eyes, on fire, <br> In lightnings own'd his secret stings; <br> In one rude clash he struck the lyre, <br> And swept with hurried hand the strings. </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=539523" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"> With woful measures wan Despair <br> Low sullen sounds his grief beguil'd; <br> A solemn, strange, and mingled air; <br> 'Twas sad by fits, by starts 'twas wild. </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=539523" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"> But thou, O Hope, with eyes so fair, <br> What was thy delightful measure; <br> Still it whisper'd promis'd pleasure, <br> And bade the lovely scenes at distance hail! </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=539523" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"> Still would her touch the strain prolong, <br> And from the rocks, the woods, the vale, <br> She call'd on Echo still thro' all the song; <br> And where her sweetest theme she chose, <br> A soft responsive voice was heard at ev'ry close, <br> And Hope enchanted smil'd, and wav'd her golden hair. </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=539523" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"> And longer had she sung,-but with a frown <br> Revenge impatient rose; <br> He threw his blood-stain'd sword in thunder down <br> And with a with'ring look <br> The war-denouncing trumpet took, <br> And blew a blast so loud and dread, <br> Were ne'er prophetic sounds so full of woe. <br> And ever and anon he beat <br> The doubling drum with furious heat; <br> And tho' sometimes, each dreary pause between, <br> Dejected Pity, at his side, <br> Her soul-subduing voice applied, <br> Yet still he kept his wild unalter'd mien, <br> While each strain'd ball of sight seem'd bursting from his head. </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=539523" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"> Thy numbers, Jealousy, to nought were fix'd, <br> Sad proof of thy distressful state; <br> Of diff'ring themes the veering song was mix'd, <br> And now it courted Love, now raving call'd on Hate. </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=539523" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"> With eyes uprais'd, as one inspir'd, <br> Pale Melancholy sate retir'd, <br> And from her wild sequester'd seat, <br> In notes by distance made more sweet, <br> Pour'd thro' the mellow horn her pensive soul: <br> And, dashing soft from locks around, <br> Bubbling runnels join'd the sound; <br> Thro' glades and glooms the mingled measure stole; <br> Or o'er some haunted stream with fond delay <br> Round an holy calm diffusing, <br> Love of peace and lonely musing, <br> In hollow murmurs died away. </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=539523" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"> But oh, how alter'd was its sprightlier tone, <br> When Cheerfulness, a nymph of healthiest hue, <br> Her bow across her shoulder flung, <br> Her buskins gemm'd with morning dew, <br> Blew an inspiring air, that dale and thicket rung, <br> The hunter's call to faun and dryad known! <br> The oak-crown'd sisters, and their chaste-ey'd queen, <br> Satyrs, and sylvan boys, were seen, <br> Peeping from forth their alleys green; <br> Brown Exercise rejoic'd to heal, <br> And Sport leapt up, and seiz'd his beechen spear. </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=539523" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"> Last came Joy's ecstatic trial. <br> He, with viny crown advancing, <br> First to the lively pipe his hand addrest; <br> But soon he saw the brisk awak'ning viol, <br> Whose sweet entrancing voice he lov'd the best. <br> They would have thought, who heard the strain, <br> They saw in Tempe's vale her native maids <br> Amidst the vestal sounding shades, <br> To some unwearied minstrel dancing, <br> While, as his flying fingers kiss'd the strings, <br> Love fram'd with Mirth a gay fantastic round; <br> Loose were her tresses seen, her zone unbound, <br> And he, amidst his frolic play, <br> As if he would the charming air repay, <br> Shook thousand odours from his dewy wings. </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=539523" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"> O Music, sphere-descended maid, <br> Friend of Pleasure, Wisdom's aid, <br> Why, goddess, why, to us denied, <br> Lay'st thou thy ancient lyre aside? <br> As in that lov'd Athenian bow'r <br> You learn'd an all-commanding pow'r, <br> Thy mimic soul, O nymph endear'd, <br> Can well recall what then it heard. <br> Where is thy native simple heart, <br> Devote to Virtue Fancy, Art? <br> Arise as in that eider time, <br> Warm, energic, chaste, sublime! <br> Thy wonders, in that godlike age, <br> Fill thy recording sister's page.- <br> 'Tis said, and I believe the tale, <br> Thy humblest reed could more prevail, <br> Had more of strength, diviner rage, <br> Than all which charms this laggard age, <br> Ev'n all at once together found, <br> Cæcilia's mingled world of sound. <br> O bid our vain endeavours cease, <br> Revive the just designs of Greece, <br> Return in all thy simple state, <br> Confirm the tales her sons relate!</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=William+Taylor+Collins">William Taylor Collins</a></strong></div>