356 CONSOLATIONS OF SOLITUDE
'* Through pipes of clay, and trumps of tin, The windy voice of some is sent ;
Some try the cymbal's crashing din, Or trombone, noisy instrument.
Which the stunned god long kept concealed,
Till lost Pompeii's wrecks revealed. 33
��" Some, mellower-eared, aspire to sound The flute, or oboe clear and thin ;
Some the deep viol's tone profound, Some the light wreathing violin ;
While some attune the sacred rhyme
To the grand organ's voice sublime.
" But most now herd with that new school, Which roams from sense and sound astray ;
Whose rambling tunes, despising rule, Howl like some Chinese orchestra.
More harsh than angry cats that fright
The stillness of a summer's night.
" Yet, while the sounds so different be, Still less in concord with each other
The thoughts and sentiments agree ; Seldom, in bard, bard finds a brother.
'Twixt false and true such friendship grows
As holds 'twixt nightingales and crows.
'■'■ There shalt thou find, in conclave joined, That class whom Plato hath derided,3'^
Whose sense is from the sage purloined ; There those who, by no reason guided,
Are but as mouthpieces admired.
And bray, like Balaam's ass inspired.
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