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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=341077" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Ode on St. Cecilia's Day</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I. <br>Descend ye Nine! descend and sing; <br>The breathing instruments inspire, <br>Wake into voice each silent string, <br>And sweep the sounding lyre! <br>In a sadly-pleasing strain <br>Let the warbling lute complain: <br>Let the loud trumpet sound, <br>'Till the roofs all around <br>The shrill echo's rebound: <br>While in more lengthen'd notes and slow, <br>The deep, majestic, solemn organs blow. <br>Hark! the numbers, soft and clear, <br>Gently steal upon the ear; <br>Now louder, and yet louder rise, <br>And fill with spreading sounds the skies; <br>Exulting in triumph now swell the bold notes, <br>In broken air, trembling, the wild music floats; <br>'Till, by degrees, remote and small, <br>The strains decay, <br>And melt away, <br>In a dying, dying fall. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">II. <br>By Music, minds an equal temper know, <br>Nor swell too high, nor sink too low. <br>If in the breast tumultuous joys arise, <br>Music her soft, assuasive voice applies; <br>Or when the soul is press'd with cares, <br>Exalts her in enlivening airs. <br>Warriors she fires with animated sounds; <br>Pours balm into the bleeding lover's wounds: <br>Melancholy lifts her head,<br>Morpheus rouzes from his bed, <br>Sloth unfolds her arms and wakes, <br>List'ning Envy drops her snakes; <br>Intestine war no more our Passions wage, <br>And giddy Factions hear away their rage. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">III. <br>But when our Country's cause provokes to Arms, <br>How martial music ev'ry bosom warms! <br>So when the first bold vessel dar'd the seas, <br>High on the stern the Thracian rais'd his strain, <br>While Argo saw her kindred trees<br>Descend from Pelion to the main. <br>Transported demi-gods stood round, <br>And men grew heroes at the sound, <br>Enflam'd with glory's charms: <br>Each chief his sev'nfold shield display'd, <br>And half unsheath'd the shining blade: <br>And seas, and rocks, and skies rebound <br>To arms, to arms, to arms! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">IV. <br>But when thro' all th'infernal bounds <br>Which flaming Phlegeton surrounds, <br>Love, strong as Death, the Poet led <br>To the pale nations of the dead, <br>What sounds were heard, <br>What scenes appear'd, <br>O'er all the dreary coasts! <br>Dreadful gleams, <br>Dismal screams, <br>Fires that glow, <br>Shrieks of woe, <br>Sullen moans, <br>Hollow groans, <br>And cries of tortur'd ghosts! <br>But hark! he strikes the golden lyre; <br>And see! the tortur'd ghosts respire, <br>See, shady forms advance! <br>Thy stone, O Sysiphus, stands still, <br>Ixion rests upon his wheel, <br>And the pale spectres dance! <br>The Furies sink upon their iron beds, <br>And snakes uncurl'd hang list'ning round their heads. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">V. <br>By the streams that ever flow, <br>By the fragrant winds that blow <br>O'er th' Elysian flow'rs, <br>By those happy souls who dwell <br>In yellow meads of Asphodel, <br>Or Amaranthine bow'rs, <br>By the hero's armed shades, <br>Glitt'ring thro' the gloomy glades, <br>By the youths that dy'd for love, <br>Wand'ring in the myrtle grove, <br>Restore, restore Eurydice to life; <br>Oh take the husband, or return the wife! <br>He sung, and hell consented <br>To hear the Poet's pray'r; <br>Stern Proserpine relented, <br>And gave him back the fair. <br>Thus song could prevail <br>O'er death and o'er hell, <br>A conquest how hard and how glorious? <br>Tho' fate had fast bound her <br>With Styx nine times round her, <br>Yet music and love were victorious. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">VI. <br>But soon, too soon, the lover turns his eyes: <br>Again she falls, again she dies, she dies! <br>How wilt thou now the fatal sisters move? <br>No crime was thine, if 'tis no crime to love. <br>Now under hanging mountains, <br>Beside the falls of fountains, <br>Or where Hebrus wanders, <br>Rolling in Maeanders,<br>All alone, <br>Unheard, unknown, <br>He makes his moan; <br>And calls her ghost, <br>For ever, ever, ever lost! <br>Now with Furies surrounded, <br>Despairing, confounded, <br>He trembles, he glows, <br>Amidst Rhodope's snows: <br>See, wild as the winds, o'er the desart he flies; <br>Hark! Haemus resounds with the Bacchanals cries - <br>- Ah see, he dies! <br>Yet ev'n in death Eurydice he sung, <br>Eurydice still trembled on his tongue, <br>Eurydice the woods, <br>Eurydice the floods, <br>Eurydice the rocks, and hollow mountains rung. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">VII. <br>Music the fiercest grief can charm, <br>And fate's severest rage disarm: <br>Music can soften pain to ease, <br>And make despair and madness please: <br>Our joys below it can improve, <br>And antedate the bliss above. <br>This the divine Cecilia found, <br>And to her Maker's praise confin'd the sound. <br>When the full organ joins the tuneful quire, <br>Th'immortal pow'rs incline their ear; <br>Borne on the swelling notes our souls aspire, <br>While solemn airs improve the sacred fire; <br>And Angels lean from heav'n to hear. <br>Of Orpheus now no more let Poets tell, <br>To bright Cecilia greater pow'r is giv'n; <br>His numbers rais'd a shade from hell, <br>Hers lift the soul to heav'n.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Alexander+Pope">Alexander Pope</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=341077" data-title="Ode on St. Cecilia's Day de Alexander Pope" data-description="I. 
Descend ye Nine! descend and sing; 
The breathing instruments inspire, 
Wake into voice each silent string, 
And sweep the sounding lyre! 
In a sadly-pleasing strain 
Let the warbling lute complain: 
Let the loud trumpet sound, 
'Till the roof..."></div>
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