A SONG FOR ST. CECILIA'S DAY, 1687

JOHN DRYDEN

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Stanza 1

Stanza 2

Stanza 1

     From harmony, from Heav'nly harmony
              This universal frame began.
          When Nature underneath a heap
              Of jarring atoms lay,
          And could not heave her head,
     The tuneful voice was heard from high,
              Arise ye more than dead.
     Then cold, and hot, and moist, and dry,
          In order to their stations leap,
           And music's pow'r obey.
   From harmony, from Heav'nly harmony
           This universal frame began:
           From harmony to harmony
   Through all the compass of the notes it ran,
      The diapason closing full in man.

Stanza 2

   What passion cannot music raise and quell!
              When Jubal struck the corded shell,
         His list'ning brethren stood around
         And wond'ring, on their faces fell
         To worship that celestial sound:
   Less than a god they thought there could not dwell
              Within the hollow of that shell
              That spoke so sweetly and so well.
   What passion cannot music raise and quell!

Stanza 3

         The trumpet's loud clangor
              Excites us to arms
         With shrill notes of anger
               And mortal alarms.
         The double double double beat
              Of the thund'ring drum
         Cries, hark the foes come;
   Charge, charge, 'tis too late to retreat.

Stanza 4

         The soft complaining flute
         In dying notes discovers
         The woes of hopeless lovers,
   Whose dirge is whisper'd by the warbling lute.

Stanza 5

         Sharp violins proclaim
   Their jealous pangs, and desperation,
   Fury, frantic indignation,
   Depth of pains and height of passion,
         For the fair, disdainful dame.

Stanza 6

   But oh! what art can teach
         What human voice can reach
   The sacred organ's praise?
   Notes inspiring holy love,
   Notes that wing their Heav'nly ways
         To mend the choirs above.

Stanza 7

   Orpheus could lead the savage race;
   And trees unrooted left their place;
              Sequacious of the lyre:
   But bright Cecilia rais'd the wonder high'r;
         When to her organ, vocal breath was giv'n,
   An angel heard, and straight appear'd
              Mistaking earth for Heav'n.

GRAND CHORUS

   As from the pow'r of sacred lays
         The spheres began to move,
   And sung the great Creator's praise
         To all the bless'd above;
   So when the last and dreadful hour
     This crumbling pageant shall devour,
   The trumpet shall be heard on high,
         The dead shall live, the living die,
         And music shall untune the sky.