29 ODE FOR MUSIC ON ST. CECILIA'S DAY. ALEXANDER POPE. [Alexander Pope was one of those great geniuses of which literary history has but few names to record. He stands out and apart from the masses, and ranks only with the worthiest of England's worthies. He was born in Lombard-street, London, where his father carried on business as a linen-draper, in 1688. Both his parents being Roman Catholics, he was placed, at the age of eight, under the care of one Taverner, a priest, who taught him the rudiments of Greek and Latin. At the age of twelve he removed with his parents to Binfield, in Windsor Forest; and about the same time he wrote his "Ode on Solitude"-a most remarkable production for so young a genius. Here he studied Waller, Spenser, and Dryden, and, at the age of sixteen, wrote his "Pastorals," which attracted the attention of the leading wits of the time. His "Essay on Criticism" was published in 1711, and the "Messiah" appeared on the 1st of September in the same year. This was followed by the "Ode for St. Cecilia's Day," which appeared originally in "The Spectator." About the same time he wrote "The Rape of the Lock." After bringing out "Abelard and Eloisa," "The Temple of Fame," and "Windsor Forest," he undertook the translation of the "Iliad," which he published by subscription, and netted (fortunate author) above 5000l. With a part of this he purchased his house at Twickenham, so long after fondly recognised as "Pope's Villa." On the completion of the "Iliad," he undertook the "Odyssey;" but a spice of commercial enterprise was mixed up with his literary labours, for he not only got it subscribed to liberally, but he employed other learned men (among them Broome, Fenton, and Parnell) to assist him in his work. Pope's success was followed by the usual result. Other literary men became jealous of him, and jealousy begets enmity. Pope could have afforded to treat all this with silent contempt, but he took vengeance on his detractors in "The Dunciad;" and, unfortunately, the satirical vein, once indulged in, was found very difficult to control. Like Byron after him, he was induced to satirise some who had done him little or no injury. In 1729 he published his great ethical epic, the "Essay on Man." In 1737 he printed his "Letters," by subscription, and made money by them, but the publication was against all the tenets of literary honour and gentlemanly breeding. At the time of his death he was engaged in preparing a complete edition of his works. He died May 30th, 1744, aged 56.] DESCEND, ye Nine! descend and sing: The shrill echoes rebound: While, in more lengthen'd notes and slow, Now louder, and yet louder rise, And fill with spreading sounds the skies; Exulting in triumph now swell the bold notes, In broken air, trembling, the wild music floats; Till, by degrees, remote and small, The strains decay, And melt away, In a dying, dying fall. By Music, minds an equal temper know, Or, when the soul is press'd with cares, Warriors she fires with animated sounds; Sloth unfolds her arms and wakes, Intestine war no more our passions wage, But when our country's cause provokes to arms, So when the first bold vessel dar'd the seas, And when through all the infernal bounds, What scenes appear'd, O'er all the dreary coasts! Dreadful gleams, Dismal screams, Fires that glow, Shrieks of woe, Sullen moans, Hollow groans, And cries of tortured ghosts! But hark! he strikes the golden lyre; Thy stone, O Sisyphus, stands still, And the pale spectres dance The Furies sink upon their iron beds, And snakes uncurl'd hang listening round their heads. By the streams that ever flow, By those happy souls who dwell A conquest how hard, and how glorious! With Styx nine times round her, But soon, too soon, the lover turns his eyes: Beside the falls of fountains, Or where Hebrus wanders, Rolling in mæanders, All alone, Unheard, unknown, He trembles, he glows, Amidst Rhodope's snows: See, wild as the winds, o'er the desert he flies; Hark! Hæmus resounds with the Bacchanals' cries Ah see, he dies! Yet ev'n in death Eurydice he sung; Eurydice the floods, Eurydice the rocks and hollow mountains rung. Music the fiercest grief can charm, And make despair and madness please: And antedate the bliss above. And to her Maker's praise confin'd the sound. "A man is, in general, better pleased when he has a good dinner upon his table than when his wife speaks Greek."Sam. Johnson. JOHNSON was right. I don't agree to all The solemn dogmas of the rough old stager: Johnson was right. Although some men adore |