The gods by Music have their praise;
The life, the soul, therein doth joy :
For, as the Romayn poet says:

*

In seas, whom pirates would destroy,
A dolphin saved from death most sharp,-
Arion playing on his harp.

O heavenly gift! that rules the mind,
Ev'n as the stern doth rule the ship!
O Music! whom the gods assigned

To comfort man, whom cares would nip!
Since thou both man and beast dost move,
What beast is he, will thee disprove?

PERCY.

• Ovid-from Herodotus. The Delphin editor of Virgil seriously asserts, that this fish has been known to be enticed and tamed by the power of music. Every one has read Shakspeare's rather too highly-coloured picture, of the heart which

"Is not moved with concord of sweet sounds,
Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils;
The motions of his spirit are dull as night,
And his affections dark as Erebus!-

Let no such man be trusted."

Our great reformer, Luther, expresses his admiration of music in very naive and forcible language. "Music is one of the most beautiful and glorious gifts of God, to which the Evil One is a bitter enemy. By music, many tribulations and evil thoughts are driven away. It is one of the best arts; the notes give life to the text. It expelleth melancholy, as we see in King Saul. Music is the best solace for a sad and sorrowful mind. By means of music the heart is comforted, and settles again to peace. It is said in Virgil,

Tu calamos inflare leves, ego dicere versus.'

Play thou the notes, and I will sing the words.

Music is one half of discipline, and a schoolmistress that makes men more gentle and meek-more modest and intelligent. Music is a gift of God, and nearly allied to theology. I would not for a great deal be destitute of the small skill in music I have." LUTHER'S Colloquia Mensalia; or, Table Talk. By Dr. AURIFABER. 1569.-Ed.

SONNET

En Praise of the Fair Geraldine.

BY HENRY HOWARD EARL OF SURREY.

[About 1540.]

FROM Tuscané came my lady's worthy race,
Fair Florence was sometime her ancient seat;
The Western Isle, whose pleasant shore doth face
Wild Camber's cliffs, did give her lively heat.
Fostered she was, with milk of Irish breast:

Her sire, an earl; her dame, of prince's blood;
From tender years, in Britain she doth rest,

With King's child,* where she tasteth costly food. Honsdon did first present her to mine eyn; Bright is her hue, and Geraldine she hight. Hampton me taught to wish her first for mine,

And Windsor, alas! doth chase me from her sight. Her beauty of kind, † her virtue from above; Happy is he that can obtain her love!

RITSON.

• Maid of honour to the Princess Mary.

Of Consanguinity, i. e. derived from her ancestors.

DESCRIPTION OF SPRING.

BY THE SAME.

THE Soote Season that bud and bloom forth brings,
With green hath clad the hill and eke the vale;
The nightingale, with feathers new she sings;
The turtle to her make + hath told her tale.
Summer is come! for every spray now springs:

The hart hath hung his old head on the pale;
The buck in brake his winter coat he flings;
The fishes fleet § with new repaired scale;
The adder all her slough away she flings;
The swift swallow pursueth the flies small;
The busy bee her honey now she mings: ||
Winter is worn, that was the flower's bale.-
And thus I see, among these pleasant things,
Each care decays, and yet my sorrow springs!

CAMPBELL.

* Sweet.
|| Swim fleetly.

+ Mate.
Mixes.

t Horns.

WHEN Whispering winds that creeping steal, Distil soft passions through the heart;

And when at every touch we feel

Our senses join and bear a part;
When threats can make

A heart-string ache;-
Philosophy

Can scarce deny

Our souls are made of harmony.

When unto heavenly joys we fain
Whate'er the soul affecteth most;

Which only thus we can explain,
By Music of the heavenly host;
Whose lays, we think,

Make stars to wink ;

Philosophy

Will ne'er deny

Our souls consist of harmony.

O lull me, lull me, charming Air!
My senses rock with wonders sweet:
Like snow on wool thy fallings are;
Soft, like a spirit's, are thy feet!—
Grief, who needs fear,

That hath an ear?

Down let him lie,

And slumb'ring die,

And change his soul for harmony!

JAMIESON.

THE RED-CROSS KNIGHT.*

BLOW, Warder! blow thy sounding horn,
And thy banner wave on high;

For the Christians have fought in the Holy Land,
And have won the victory!

Loud, loud the warder blew his horn,

And his banner waved on high:

"Let the mass be sung, and the bells be rung,
And the feast eat merrily!"

Then bright the castle banners shone

On every tower on high,

And all the minstrels sang aloud

For the Christians' victory:

And loud the warder blew his horn,

On every turret high,—

"Let the mass be sung, and the bells be rung,
And the feast eat merrily!"

The warder he looked from the tower on high,

As far as he could see:

"I see a bold Knight! and by his red cross,
He comes from the East country."

The preceding Ballads of this Selection may be distinguished by the term, "Ancient Ballads;" being supposed to be, generally speaking, and in their original state, not less than two hundred years old. Those that follow, have, for the most part, been written within the last seventy years; and several of them, since the commencement of the present Century.