The beginning of the last stanza of the ode here examined, seems to be a repetition of the subject of the second, the power of music over the passions, which may, perhaps, be reckoned a blameable tautology; especially as these lines, Music the fiercest grief can charm, And Fate's severest rage disarm; And make despair and madness please; are inferior, I am afraid, to the former on the same subjects, which contain beautiful and poetical personifications; Melancholy lifts her head, It is observable, that this Ode of POPE, and the Alexander's Feast of Dryden, conclude with an epigram of four lines; a species of wit as flagrantly unsuitable to the dignity, and as foreign to the nature, of the lyric, as it is of the epie muse. It It is to be regretted, that Mr. Handel has not set to music the former, as well as the latter, of these celebrated odes, in which he has displayed the combined powers of verse and voice, to a wonderful degree. No poem, indeed, affords so much various matter for a composer to work upon, as Dryden has here introduced and expressed all the greater passions, and as the transitions from one to the other are sudden and impetuous; of which we feel the effects in the pathetic description of the fall of Darius, that immediately succeeds the joyous praises of Bacchus. The symphony, and air particularly, that accompanies the four words, "fallen, fallen, fallen, fallen," is strangely moving,* and consists of a few simple and touching notes, without any of those * The mention of this pathetic air, reminds me of a story of the celebrated Lully, who having been one day accused of never setting any thing to music, but the languid verses of Quinault, was immediately animated with the reproach, and, as it were, seized with a kind of enthusiasm; he ran instantly to his harpsichord, and striking a few cords, sung in recitative these four lines in the Iphigenia of Racine, which are full of the strongest imagery, and are therefore much more difficult to express in music, than verses of mere sentiment, Un those intricate variations, and affected divisions, into which, in compliance with a vicious and vulgar taste, this great master hath sometimes descended. Even this piece of Handel, so excellent on the whole, is not free from one or two blemishes of this sort, particularly in the air, "With ravished ears," &c. The moderns have, perhaps, practised no species of poetry with so little success, and with such indisputable inferiority to the ancients, as the ODE; which seems owing to the harshness and Un prêtre environné d'une foule cruelle Dans son cœur palpitant consultera les dieux. One of the company has often declared, that they all thought themselves present at this dreadful spectacle, and that the notes with which Lully accompanied these words, erected the hair of their heads with horror. The opinion of Boileau concerning music is remarkable; he asserts, Qu'on ne peut jamais faire un bon opera; parceque la musique ne sauroit narrer; que les passions n'y peuvent etre peinte dans toute l'etenduë qu'elles demandent; que d'ailleurs elle ne sauroit souvent mettre en chant les expressions vraiment sublimes et courageuses. and untuneableness of modern languages, abound- ? ing in monosyllables, and crowded with consonants. This particularly is the case of the English, whose original is Teutonic, and which, therefore, is not so musical as the Italian, the Spanish, or even the French, as not having so great a quantity of words derived from the Latin. But the Latin language itself, as well as all others, must yield to the unparalleled sweetness and copiousness of the Greek. Tantò est sermo græcus latino jucundior, (says Quintilian,) ut nostri poetæ, quoties dulce carmen esse voluerunt, illorum id nominibus exornent. "* What line, even in the Italian poets, is so soft and mellifluous, ast Αλλ * He gives some instances that are curious, and worth attention. "Quid quod pleraque nos illa quasi mugiente literà cludimus M, quâ nullum Græcè verbum cadit? At illi N jucundam et in fine præcipuè quasi tinnientem, illius loco ponunt, quæ est apud nos rarissimè in clausulis. Quid quod syllabæ nostræ in B literam et D innituntur? adeò asperè, ut plerique non antiquissimorum quidem, sed tamen veterum mollire tentaverint, non solum aversa pro adversis dicendo, sed et in præpositione B literæ absonam et ipsam S subjiciendo.” Apply these observations with proper alterations to the English tongue. Quintil. 1. xii. c. 10. + Odys. iv. 565. Αλλ' αιει ζεφύροιο λιγυπνειονίας αήτας Or as, in the tender Bion, Αιαζω τον Αδωνιν, απωλεῖο καλ@ Αδωνις ; to instance in no more? If we cast a transient view over the most celebrated of the modern lyrics, we may observe, that the stanza of* Petrarch, which has been adopted by all his successors, displeases the ear, by its tedious unifor mity, * Petrarch was taught the Greek language, which was at that time unknown in Italy, by Barlaham, a learned monk of Calabria; which country having been a colony of Greeks, retained some traces of their tongue. Soon afterwards Boccace learned Greek of Leontius Pilatus, of Thessalonica, who explained Homer to him for three years; after which time Boccace founded a lecture for the explanation of the Iliad and Odyssey. After Boccace's death, the republic of Florence invited Emanuel Chrysoloras, a nobleman of Constantinople, to open an academy for teaching the Greek language about the year 1394. This Chrysoloras came into England, to solicit Richard II. to enter into an alliance against the Turks. Among his scholars were Leonardus Aretinus, Paulus Vergerius, Guarinus, Leonicenus, Typhernas, Philelphus, and other famous writers. Petrarch died in the year 1374. Boccace in 1376. Chaucer in 1400. The Greek tongue was brought into England by William Grocyn. He was fellow of New College, in Oxford, and died about the year 1520. 1 |