For discords make the sweetest airs.
Soprano, basso, even the contra-alto *
Wished him five fathom under the Rialto.
Byron—Beppo. St. 32.
Music arose with its voluptuous swell,
Soft eyes look'd love to eyes which spake again,
And all went merry as a marriage bell.
BYBOK—Childe Harold. Canto III. St. 21.
There's music in the sighing of a reed;
There's music in the gushing of a rill;
There's music in all things, if men had ears:
Their earth is but an echo of the spheres.
| author = Byron
| work = Don Juan. Canto XV. St. 5.
f
And hears thy stormy music in the drum!
Campbell—Pleasures of Hope. Pt. I.
Merrily sang the monks in Ely
When Cnut, King, rowed thereby;
Row, my knights, near the land,
And hear we these monkes' song.
Attributed to KrNG Canute—Song of the
Monks of Ely, in Spens—History of the
English People. Historia Eliensis. (1066)
Chambers' Eney. of English Literature.
Music is well said to be the speech of angels.
, Carlyle—Essays. The Opera.
When music, heavenly maid, was young,
While yet in early Greece she sung,
The Passions oft, to hear her shell,
Throng'd around her magic cell.
Colons—Passions. L. 1.
In notes by distance made more sweet.
Collins—Passions. L. 60.
| seealso = (See also Wordsworth)
| topic = Music
| page = 536
}}
{{Hoyt quote
| num = 10
| text = <poem>In hollow murmurs died away.
Collins—Passions. L. 68.
Music has charms to soothe a savage breast,
To soften rocks, or bend a knotted oak.
I've read that things inanimate have moved,
And, as with living souls, have been inform'd,
By magic numbers and persuasive sound.
Congrevb—The Mourning Bride. Act I. Sc. 1.
| seealso = (See also Bramston)
| topic = Music
| page = 536
}}
{{Hoyt quote
| num = 12
| text = <poem>And when the music goes te-toot,
The monkey acts so funny
That we all hurry up and scoot
To get some monkey-money.
M-double-unk for the monkey,
M-double-an for the man;
M-double unky, hunky monkey,
Hunkey monkey-man.
Ever since the world began
Children danced and children ran
When they heard the monkey-man,
The m-double-unky man.
Edmund Vance Cooke—The Monkey-Man.
I rule the House.
II I II
Water and air He for the Tenor chose,
Earth made the Base, the Treble Flame arose,
To th' active Moon a quick brisk stroke he gave,
To Saturn's string a touch more soft and grave.
The motions strait, and round, and swift, and
slow,
And short and long, were mixt and woven so,
Did in such artful Figures smoothly fall,
As made this decent measur'd Dance of all.
And this is Musick.
Cowley—Damdeis. Bk. I. P. 13. (1668)
| seealso = (See also Browne)
| topic = Music
| page = 536
}}
{{Hoyt quote
| num = 14
| text = <poem>With melting airs ; or martial, brisk, or grave;
Some chord in unison with what we hear
Is touch'd within us, and the heart replies.
The soft complaining flute
In dying notes discovers The woes of hopeless lovers, Whose dirge is whisper'd by the warbling lute. Dryden—A Song for St. Cecilia's Day. </poem>
Music sweeps by me as a messenger
Carrying a message that is not for me.
George Eliot—Spanish Gypsy. Bk. III.
' 17 'Tis God gives skill,
But not without men's hands : He could not make
Antonio Stradivari's violins
Without Antonio.
George Eliot—Stradivarius. L. 151.
The silent organ loudest chants
The master's requiem.
Emerson—Dirge.
Our 'prentice, Tom, may now refuse
To wipe his scoundrel master's shoes;
For now he's free to sing and play
Over the hills and far away.
Farquhar—Over the Hills and Far Away. Act
n. Sc. 3.
| seealso = (See also Stevenson, also Gay under IV'orNtatns, Farquhar under Patriotism)
| topic = Music
| page = 536
}}
{{Hoyt quote
| num = 20
| text = <poem>But Bellenden we needs must praise,
Who as down the stairs she jumps
Sings o'er the hill and far awaj',
Despising doleful dumps.
Distracteo 'Jockey's Lamentation. Piils to Purge
Melancholy.
Tom he was a piper's son,
He learned to play when he was young;
But all the tune wiat he could play
Was "Over the hills and far away."
Distracted Jockey's Lamentation. Pills to Purge
Melancholy found in The Nursery Rhymes of
England by Halltwell Phillips.
When I was young and had no sense
I bought a fiddle for eighteen pence,
And all the tunes that I could play
Was, "Over the Hills and Far Away."
Old Ballad, in the Pedlar's Pack of Ballads and
Songs.
