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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=408308" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Euterpe: A Cantanta</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Argument.<br>Hail to thee, Sound!—The power of Euterpe in all the scenes of life—<br>in religion; in works of charity; in soothing troubles by means of music;<br>in all humane and high purposes; in war; in grief; in the social circle;<br>the children’s lullaby; the dance; the ballad; in conviviality;<br>when far from home; at evening—the whole ending with an allegorical chorus,<br>rejoicing at the building of a mighty hall erected for the recreation<br>of a nation destined to take no inconsiderable part in the future history<br>of the world.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Overture</div><div style="margin:10px 0">No. 1 Chorus</div><div style="margin:10px 0">All hail to thee, Sound! Since the time<br>Calliope’s son took the lyre,<br>And lulled in the heart of their clime<br>The demons of darkness and fire;<br>Since Eurydice’s lover brought tears<br>To the eyes of the Princes of Night,<br>Thou hast been, through the world’s weary years,<br>A marvellous source of delight—<br>Yea, a marvellous source of delight!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">In the wind, in the wave, in the fall<br>Of the water, each note of thine dwells;<br>But Euterpe hath gathered from all<br>The sweetest to weave into spells.<br>She makes a miraculous power<br>Of thee with her magical skill;<br>And gives us, for bounty or dower,<br>The accents that soothe us or thrill!<br>Yea, the accents that soothe us or thrill!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">All hail to thee, Sound! Let us thank<br>The great Giver of light and of life<br>For the music divine that we’ve drank,<br>In seasons of peace and of strife,<br>Let us gratefully think of the balm<br>That falls on humanity tired,<br>At the tones of the song or the psalm<br>From lips and from fingers inspired—<br>Yea, from lips and from fingers inspired.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>No. 2 Quartette and Chorus</div><div style="margin:10px 0">When, in her sacred fanes<br>God’s daughter, sweet Religion, prays,<br>Euterpe’s holier strains<br>Her thoughts from earth to heaven raise.<br>The organ notes sublime<br>Put every worldly dream to flight;<br>They sanctify the time,<br>And fill the place with hallowed light.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"></div><div style="margin:10px 0">No. 3 Soprano Solo</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Yea, and when that meek-eyed maiden<br>Men call Charity, comes fain<br>To raise up spirits, laden<br>With bleak poverty and pain:<br>Often, in her cause enlisted,<br>Music softens hearts like stones;<br>And the fallen are assisted<br>Through Euterpe’s wondrous tones.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>No. 4 Orchestral Intermezzo</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>No. 5 Chorus</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Beautiful is Sound devoted<br>To all ends humane and high;<br>And its sweetness never floated<br>Like a thing unheeded by.<br>Power it has on souls encrusted<br>With the selfishness of years;<br>Yea, and thousands Mammon-rusted,<br>Hear it, feel it, leave in tears.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>No. 6 Choral Recitative<br>(Men’s voices only)</div><div style="margin:10px 0">When on the battlefield, and in the sight<br>Of tens of thousands bent to smite and slay<br>Their human brothers, how the soldier’s heart<br>Must leap at sounds of martial music, fired<br>With all that spirit that the patriot loves<br>Who seeks to win, or nobly fall, for home!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"></div><div style="margin:10px 0">No. 7 Triumphal March</div><div style="margin:10px 0"></div><div style="margin:10px 0">No. 8 Funeral Chorus</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Slowly and mournfully moves a procession,<br>Wearing the signs<br>Of sorrow, through loss, and it halts like a shadow<br>Of death in the pines.<br>Come from the fane that is filled with God’s presence,<br>Sad sounds and deep;<br>Holy Euterpe, she sings of our brother,<br>We listen and weep.<br>Death, like the Angel that passed over Egypt,<br>Struck at us sore;<br>Never again shall we turn at our loved one’s<br>Step at the door.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"></div><div style="margin:10px 0">No. 9 Chorus<br>(Soprano voices only)</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But, passing from sorrow, the spirit<br>Of Music, a glory, doth rove<br>Where it lightens the features of beauty,<br>And burns through the accents of love—<br>The passionate accents of love.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"></div><div style="margin:10px 0">No. 10 Lullaby Song—Contralto</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The night-shades gather, and the sea<br>Sends up a sound, sonorous, deep;<br>The plover’s wail comes down the lea;<br>By slope and vale the vapours weep,<br>And dew is on the tree;<br>And now where homesteads be,<br>The children fall asleep,<br>Asleep.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">A low-voiced wind amongst the leaves,<br>The sighing leaves that mourn the Spring,<br>Like some lone spirit, flits and grieves,<br>And grieves and flits on fitful wing.<br>But where Song is a guest,<br>A lulling dreamy thing,<br>The children fall to rest,<br>To rest.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"></div><div style="margin:10px 0">No. 11 Waltz Chorus</div><div style="margin:10px 0">When the summer moon is beaming<br>On the stirless waters dreaming,<br>And the keen grey summits gleaming,<br>Through a silver starry haze;<br>In our homes to strains entrancing<br>To the steps, the quickly glancing<br>Steps of youths and maidens dancing,<br>Maidens light of foot as fays.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then the waltz, whose rhythmic paces<br>Make melodious happy places,<br>Brings a brightness to young faces,<br>Brings a sweetness to the eyes.<br>Sounds that move us like enthralling<br>Accents, where the runnel falling,<br>Sends out flute-like voices calling,<br>Where the sweet wild moss-bed lies.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"></div><div style="margin:10px 0">No. 12 Ballad—Tenor</div><div style="margin:10px 0">When twilight glides with ghostly tread<br>Across the western heights,<br>And in the east the hills are red<br>With sunset’s fading lights;<br>Then music floats from cot and hall<br>Where social circles met,<br>By sweet Euterpe held in thrall—<br>Their daily cares forget.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">What joy it is to watch the shine<br>That hallows beauty’s face<br>When woman sings the strains divine,<br>Whose passion floods the place!<br>Then how the thoughts and feelings rove<br>At song’s inspiring breath,<br>In homes made beautiful by love,<br>Or sanctified by death.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">What visions come, what dreams arise,<br>What Edens youth will limn,<br>When leaning over her whose eyes<br>Have sweetened life for him!<br>For while she sings and while she plays,<br>And while her voice is low,<br>His fancy paints diviner days<br>Than any we can know.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"></div><div style="margin:10px 0">No. 13 Drinking Song<br>(Men’s voices only)</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But, hurrah! for the table that heavily groans<br>With the good things that keep in the life:<br>When we sing and we dance, and we drink to the tones<br>That are masculine, thorough and blithe.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Good luck to us all! Over walnuts and wine<br>We hear the rare songs that we know<br>Are as brimful of mirth as the spring is of shine,<br>And as healthy and hearty, we trow.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then our glasses we charge to the ring of the stave<br>That the flush to our faces doth send;<br>For though life is a thing that winds up with the grave,<br>We’ll be jolly, my boys, to the end.<br>Hurrah! Hurrah!<br>Yes, jolly, my boys, to the end!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"></div><div style="margin:10px 0">No. 14 Recitative—Bass</div><div style="margin:10px 0">When far from friends, and home, and all the things<br>That bind a man to life, how dear to him<br>Is any old familiar sound that takes<br>Him back to spots where Love and Hope<br>In past days used to wander hand in hand<br>Across high-flowered meadows, and the paths<br>Whose borders shared the beauty of the spring,<br>And borrowed splendour from autumnal suns.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"></div><div style="margin:10px 0">No. 15 Chorus<br>(The voices accompanied only by the<br>violins playing “Home, Sweet Home”.)</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then at sea, or in wild wood,<br>Then ashore or afloat,<br>All the scenes of his childhood<br>Come back at a note;<br>At the turn of a ballad,<br>At the tones of a song,<br>Cometh Memory, pallid<br>And speechless so long;<br>And she points with her finger<br>To phantom-like years,<br>And loveth to linger<br>In silence, in tears.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"></div><div style="margin:10px 0">No. 16 Solo—Bass</div><div style="margin:10px 0">In the yellow flame of evening sounds of music come and go,<br>Through the noises of the river, and the drifting of the snow;<br>In the yellow flame of evening, at the setting of the day,<br>Sounds that lighten, fall, and lighten, flicker, faint, and fade away;<br>What they are, behold, we know not, but their honey slakes and slays<br>Half the want which whitens manhood in the stress of alien days.<br>Even as a wondrous woman, struck with love and great desire,<br>Hast thou been to us, EUTERPE, half of tears and half of fire;<br>But thy joy is swift and fitful, and a subtle sense of pain<br>Sighs through thy melodious breathings, takes the rapture from thy strain.<br>In the yellow flame of evening sounds of music come and go.<br>Through the noises of the river, and the drifting of the snow.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"></div><div style="margin:10px 0">No. 17 Recitative—Soprano</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And thus it is that Music manifold,<br>In fanes, in Passion’s sanctuaries, or where<br>The social feast is held, is still the power<br>That bindeth heart to heart; and whether Grief,<br>Or Love, or Pleasure form the link, we know<br>’Tis still a bond that makes Humanity,<br>That wearied entity, a single whole,<br>And soothes the trouble of the heart bereaved,<br>And lulls the beatings in the breast that yearns,<br>And gives more gladness to the gladdest things.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"></div><div style="margin:10px 0">No. 18 Finale—Chorus</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Now a vision comes, O brothers, blended<br>With supremest sounds of harmony—<br>Comes, and shows a temple, stately, splendid,<br>In a radiant city by the sea.<br>Founders, fathers of a mighty nation,<br>Raised the walls, and built the royal dome,<br>Gleaming now from lofty, lordly station,<br>Like a dream of Athens, or of Rome!<br>And a splendour of sound,<br>A thunder of song,<br>Rolls sea-like around,<br>Comes sea-like along.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The ringing, and ringing, and ringing,<br>Of voices of choristers singing,<br>Inspired by a national joy,<br>Strike through the marvellous hall,<br>Fly by the aisle and the wall,<br>While the organ notes roam<br>From basement to dome—<br>Now low as a wail,<br>Now loud as a gale,<br>And as grand as the music that builded old Troy.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Henry+Kendall">Henry Kendall</a><div class=q>
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Hail to thee, Sound!—The power of Euterpe in all the scenes of life—
in religion; in works of charity; in soothing troubles by means of music;
in all humane and high purposes; in war; in grief; in the social circle;
the children’s ..."></div>
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