SEMICHORUS.-(Cyane.) Come with me, away, away, And which grey Tradition old, With all its weight of grief and crime, Hath barr'd from out the grave of Time. Once again I bid thee flee, Daughter of great Cybele. Proser. You are too harsh, Cyane! Pluto. Oh! my love, Fairer than the white Naiad-fairer far Than ought on earth, and fair as ought in heaven.- Hear me, Proserpina ! Proser. Away, away. I'll not believe you. What a cunning tongue Can the gods flatter? Pluto. By my burning throne! I love you, sweetest: I will make you queen And you shall rank as high as any she, Save one, within the starry court of Jove. Pluto. I swear it. By myself! Come then, my bride.. Proser. Speak thou again, my friend. And bid me not believe him. Ah! you droop Pluto. Come, my bright queen! Come, beautiful Proserpina, and see The regions over which your husband reigns; His palaces and radiant treasures, which Mock and outstrip all fable; his great power, A Queen indeed; and round your forehead shall run Proser. Speak out, Cyane! Pluto. But, above all, in my heart shall you reign Of bloom and beauty, the good spirits walk: Proser. Away, away, away, Nothing but force shall ever.-Oh, away. Pluto. No, by this kiss, and this: I am your own, my love; and you are mine CHORUS. [Forces off Proserpine. They are gone-Afar, afar, Cyane is gradually transformed.) With heavy heart and weeping eye, To sing songs to her memory? Oh! then, farewell! and now with hearts that mourn But ever on this day we will return, C. ON SONGS AND SONG WRITERS. MR EDITOR, EVERY one who has dabbled in verse, must have found the difficulty of writing a tolerably satisfactory song,-I mean, satisfactory even to the author himself. Most people also, whether writers of verses or not, have some remembrance of being frequently disappointed in songs which seemed good, or pleased, against their judgment, with songs which seemed bad, before they were sung. These apparent contradictions, though a little puzzling at first sight, appear to me to be perfectly susceptible of explanation. Nor is that explanation difficult, if the assumption of certain premises be allowed. Hypothesis, however, has generally more or less to do with the illustration of mysterious or contradictory phenomena; and in attempting to elucidate those I have described, I shall be under the necessity of involving some degree of reference to Remarks on the Nature of Musical Expression, and on the Progress of Poetical Style, which have had the good fortune to appear in former numbers of your Miscellany. It will first be necessary to enumerate the difficulties and requisites of song writing. Having done this, I shall indulge myself in a few observations on well known songs, in their different classes, and on the obstacles to correct judgment on lyrical composition. A good song may be defined to be a short piece of average metrical and poetical merit, adapted to an expressive air. It ought to possess poetical merit equal to that which other approved metrical compositions of the same length usually comprehend: it ought also to be truly lyrical, that is to say, its fitness for being vocally performed should be evident in the fact of the poetical effect of the song being heightened, rather than otherwise, by its being sung. These conditions certainly comprehend, in their performance, considerable difficulties. The song writer will be found to be limited by laws much more severe than those which are imposed upon the writer of other poetical effusions of equal length, whether apparently lyrical or confessedly not so. The expression, "apparently lyrical," I use as descriptive of poetical pieces, lyrical in their measure, but which are not intended to be sung, and which cannot be sung without manifest injury to the effect of the composition. This phrase, however, will probably be better understood, after considering the laws to the observance of which the lyrical author is bound. The greatest difficulty, perhaps, in the composition of a song which is intended to be sung to an expressive air, arises from the necessity that every stanza, being sung to the same air, shall embody precisely the train of sentiment or passion which the air musically expresses. This necessity is evident, in as much as if it does not do so, a discordance between the air and the words necessarily occurs; the air conveying one description or degree of feeling, and the words another, which is destructive of lyrical effect. For perfect effect, indeed, it is necessary that the greatest strength of poetical expression in the song should be so introduced as to correspond with those bars of the music in which the musical expression is strongest. When this is not done, although no actual discordance may be evident, the song loses considerably in performance. The expression of the air in some parts is necessarily too strong for the words, and in others too weak, and vice versa. As all lyrical music, which is expressive at all, expresses some passion or powerful feeling, by supposition inherent in and exciting the singer, lyrical music may properly be said to be essentially dramatic. A song, when performed, is a passionate "discourse" in "most eloquent music." Its language must be exclusively that of the feelings; and being so, must, if it is true that simplicity is necessary to the pathetic, be also comparatively free from every appearance of the artificial. This is a severe restriction upon the song writer, who is constantly driven by it towards common-place. This is an unfortunate dilemma. It seems to be almost undeniable, that poetical originality is becoming every day more and more dependant upon far-sought and artificial combinations of thought. Now this directly tends to render more and more difficult the original exhibition of the pure pathetic, in poetical composition, passion being only to be conveyed by strong and natural expression, which poetry has always found it impracticable to render susceptible of adventitious ornament. In short, to the lyric poet is allotted the almost impossible task of giving, without the aids which novelty of situation or of preparation affords the dramatic author, a natural and striking, as well as original expression of feeling, whilst he is at the same time subjected to lyrical difficulties and limitations from which the other is free. Such are the difficulties of this species of poetical composition; and it is from a noncompliance with some one or other of the requisites which have been described, that those disappointments which so often attend the lyrical efforts of the greatest poetical talents arise. Sometimes the structure of the thought embodied in each stanza is too artificial-sometimes the description of sentiment in one stanza differs from that in another, to which the same air is consequently inapplicable-sometimes the train of thought is throughout unsuitable to the air. Hence springs that apparent inconsistency which causes us to reject, when sung, stanzas of undoubted poetical merit, and to prefer lines of little original desert, of which, however, the sentiment is similar to, and continuous with the air to which they are joined. The songs of the earlier poets, Shakspeare, Fletcher, and others, were probably written with little reference to the music which was to be appended to them. The crude and half barbarous science, which at once formalized and complicated the music of the age, would afford little encouragement to lyrics. Milton indeed appears to have admired the rather more modern " Ayres" of "Master Henry Lawes," but if the crabbed passages and awkward modulation of Queen Elizabeth's lessons for the virginals are to be taken as samples of the taste of her times, musical inspiration, in any shape, must, I think, have been of rare occurrence. Whether or not any of the popular airs of that period have come down to us, I do not know. It seems, however, sufficiently evident, that England has never perfected a national style of music, and to this may be in part attributed the scarcity of good lyrics in English poetry. Shakspeare's songs are very unequal; his most fanciful are perhaps his best. "Blow, blow, thou winter wind," powerful as is its language, is yet a little too didactic to be perfectly lyrical; "but that's not much."—" Five fathom deep thy father lies," is a beautiful disappointment. The conclusion does not answer the commencement. The "ding dong bell," in particular, I must venture to protest against; even the name of Shakspeare cannot sanctify the absurd burthens, the "heigh-hos!" and "hey nonny nonnies," which the fashion of his time has probably led him to affix to many of his songs. The formal quaintness of Harrington is directly at variance with lyrical effect, nor can I help thinking, that the lyrical parts of Fletcher's Faithful shepherdess have been over-praised. The well-known, "take, oh take those lips away," is, after all, to me, the finest song of the time. A little later, Ben Jonson's n's, "drink to me only with thine eyes," is much and deservedly celebrated. Those witty and elegant verses which are called the songs of Charles the Second's time, are nearly worthless as Lyrics. Let every one, however, read them, but let them only be read; they are pretty songs as they stand, and singing only spoils them. At what period the description of lyrics, called "Hunting songs," became general, I cannot certainly say. They are less satisfactory to me than even drinking songs, of which last we have, considering all things, marvellously few good specimens. Yet the joyous and social spirit which is the spring of conviviality, would seem to be well adapted for lyrical and musical expression. If we except a few excellent songs, which are certainly to be found scattered throughout the pages of English poetry, and the admirable specimens which are preserved amongst the early Scottish ballads, Robert Burns may be styled the first good song writer that has appeared. Not that Allan Ramsay is to be forgotten, many of whose songs, as for instance, "Woes my heart that we should sunder," and others in "the Gentle Shepherd," are of considerable poetical, as well as lyrical merit.-But Burns, besides his genius as a poet, seems to have hit, almost by a sort of instinct, upon the true principles of this department of writing. From these he has rarely deviated. In his songs is displayed that continuity of passion or of pathetic sentiment, or of joyous or of humorous feeling, expressed in simple, yet bold and original language, which constitutes the beau ideal of lyrical composition. I would particularly instance, "Here's a health to ane I lo'e dear ;" "From thee, Eliza, I must go;" "Will ye gae to the Indies;"" Ae fond kiss, an' than we sever;" and, "O Tibbie, I hae seen the day;" as examples of perfect songs. The ballad," When wild war's deadly blast;""When Januar' winds;" though poetical chef d'œuvres, are lyrical failures. A few parts only accord with the expression of the airs, and the narrative stanzas which commence and conclude the poems, produce, when sung, a dreary discord. The songs of Moore are in a different style. They will probably long be the models of future cultivators of English lyre poetry, of which generally speaking, they are the most perfect specimens. By his felicitous ease of expression, Moore has freed his originality from that apparent artifice or labour which is fatal to the effect of a song. His tact, also, in adapting the train of sentiment to the air is equal to that of Burns. They are the twin stars, the Castor and Pollux of the British lyre. It is almost needless to point out individual songs of this poet, as especially displaying that exquisite union of poetical and of musical expression, with which they all, more or less, abound. I cannot, however, resist mentioning, "Oh! breathe not his name;"" When he that adores thee;" and last and best, "Go where glory waits thee;" nor do I envy those who possess stoicism so great, or sympathies so small, as to hear these melodies sung, without experiencing some of the strongest emotions that genius has ever united to language. In the song, "Let them rail at this life," Mr Moore has suffered his satirical vein to entice him into a breach of the continuity of sentiment. The air is one of unmixed, though affectionate and feeling, cheerfulness, and ill bears the sarcastic turn which deforms the concluding stanza. Amongst the English lyrists, however, this author is unrivalled. He is worthy of the melodies of Ireland, and they of him. After these, Byron's Hebrew Melodies must not be named. To say the truth, they are neither Hebrew nor melodies; but his Lordship can well afford to suffer for the misnomer. Of the dramatic songs of the present day I hardly know how to speak, for I have nothing good to say of them, As far as they include scientific difficulties, they may be interesting to a few, but they are "caviar to the general." The words are, for the most part, wisely drowned in the accompaniments, and "let them there lie mudded." I shall not attempt to disturb their repose. Of the said accompaniment, I would say, the fuller the better. The ear which would soon sicken upon the thin diet, "the wa ter-brose or muslin-kail” of unmeaning lines to an unmeaning air, is excited and kept in good humour by the stimulus of the harmony. When a song is sung with a full accompaniment, the difficulty of judgment is much increased, the general excitement of the accompanying chords supplying the want of pleasurable expres sion in the air. This power of general harmonic excitement is best proved by the fact of its being known to produce an effect, even in direct opposition to the excitement of the air and words which it is intended to assist. Of this the autobiography of the celebrated Alfieri affords a singular and striking instance. Having before described the tendency to depression of spirits to which he was early subject, he says, "By this subterfuge I had the pleasure of hearing the Opera Buffa of Mercato di Malmantile. It was composed by a celebrated master, and performed by the first singers of Italy, Carratoli Baglioni, and her daughters. This varied and enchanting music sunk deep into my soul, and made the most astonishing impression on my imagination; it agitated the inmost recesses of my heart to such a degree, that for several weeks I experienced the most profound melancholy, which was not however wholly unattended with pleasure."-Chap. V. 2d Epoch. Again, after he had advanced to manhood, and his constitutional tendency to melancholy and nervous depression had more decidedly developed itself, he says, "My greatest pleasure consisted in attending the Opera Buffa, though the gay and lively music left a deep and melancholy impression on my mind."-Chap. II. 3d Epoch. The rationale of this seemingly anomalous result I take to be shortly this-that the melancholic tendency which the |