No; they
have escaped from some higher sphere; they are the outpourings of eternal
harmony in the medium of created sound; they are echoes from our Home;
they are the voices of Angels, or the Magnificat of Saints, or the living
laws of Divine Governance, or the Divine Attributes; something are they
besides themselves, which we cannot compass, which we cannot utter, though
mortal man, and he perhaps not otherwise distinguished above his fellows,
has the gift of eliciting them."
Poetry and Music unite in song. From the earliest ages song has been the
sweet companion of labor. The rude chant of the boatman floats upon the
water, the shepherd sings upon the hill, the milkmaid in the dairy, the
ploughman at the plough. Every trade, every occupation, every act and
scene of life, has long had its own especial music. The bride went to her
marriage, the laborer to his work, the old man to his last long rest, each
with appropriate and immemorial music.
Music has been truly described as the mother of sympathy, the handmaid of
Religion, and will never exercise its full effect, as the Emperor Charles
VI.
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