Deeped-mouthed bass, rolling along the ground; rich joyful
tenor; wild wistful alto; and leaping up here and there above the
throng of sounds, delicate treble shrieks and trills of trembling
joy. I know not whether you can fit it into your laws of music, any
more than you can the song of that Ariel sprite who dwells in the
Eolian harp, or the roar of the waves on the rock, or
'Myriads of rivulets hurrying through the lawn,
And murmur of innumerable bees.'
But music it is. A madrigal? Rather a whole opera of Der
Freischutz--daemoniac element and all--to judge by those red lips,
fierce eyes, wild, hungry voices; and such as should make Reinecke,
had he strong aesthetic sympathies, well content to be hunted from
his cradle to his grave, that such sweet sounds might by him enrich
the air. Heroes of old were glad to die, if but some 'vates sacer'
would sing their fame in worthy strains: and shalt not thou too be
glad, Reinecke? Content thyself with thy fate. Music soothes care;
let it soothe thine, as thou runnest for thy life; thou shalt have
enough of it in the next hour.
Pages:
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172