If wakened in the stilly night, Who of thy lineage, babe! may tell Thrilled, with the music of the sphinx, Thy fathers' dwelling-place? Did the tall palm-trees shelter them, Own they the beauty and the curse Doth the bold hunter, Esau, claim Those stout round limbs of thine, Nourished amid the dews of heaven? Child of the warm sunshine! When on this trampled Earth of ours Deep in primeval solitudes, Where mammoth monsters ranged, While Earth-the young and beautifulScarce by Man's curse was changed! Yes! they went free upon God's worldMan from the Ruler free! And never sought, and never knew Nor Lordship coveted, nor land— All narrow ties to place! Yet is their Birthright like the wind, They keep their Freedom's Jubilee They are in the green savannahs, But lustrous orbs of the far East, Unchanged, unmixed from sire to son, To the grey font in the old church Her blossom of the wilderness She laid on Jesu's breast, The offset of the dark wild vine The strange lamb from the mountains came, The wings of the All-merciful, Brood, dusky babe! o'er thee. Ah! think not that the prayer was vain, Not all the seas of Earth can wash The insignia of a deathless faith— That beats unconscious there! MRS. ACTON TINDAL. 410 A WORD OR TWO ON MUSIC. MUSIC, Poetry, Painting, and Sculpture,-divine emanations all! which it seems almost a species of profanation to call by the name of "arts; for though some mechanical skill is necessary for their development, yet does the unquenchable soul so shine forth in them, that we are fain to associate them with our ideas of immortality. Far be it from us to attempt to sever the band which holds them in beautiful affinity, or to build the praise of one upon the disparagement of the others; still we think that Music is entitled, by virtue of its birthright, to the gentle sway of an elder sister; for its strains thrilled the ear of seraphs before man was raised from the dust, and will flow in anthems of praise when this world shall be no more. Man had not been long on the earth before he became sensible of the presence and power of the aerial guest, and the cultivation of the science doubtless began when the world was yet in its fresh youth. The principles of many sciences were probably known to our forefathers at a very early period, and many of the arts in which we have attained to such proficiency may be resuscitations of those elements in different external forms. So, perhaps, it may be with Music. Solomon says, "There is nothing new under the sun;" and the crash of Jubal's band may have been as magnificent in effect as that of Jullien. The musical instruments of the present day bear a great general resemblance to those of antiquity; and we find that Moses received Divine commands and instructions relative to the making of the "silver trumpets," whose rich tones rang in the wilderness, while they sounded the notes of alarm, or war, or gladness, or journeyings in the camp, for the guidance of the children of Israel. The history of the Jews, from the time of Moses to the destruction of their city and nation, abounds with pooofs of the high cultivation of music in those days. Every national event and Divine institution was associated with, and accompanied by, its impressive power; and when they were carried in captivity to Babylon, their musical attainments were put in requisition by their captors, who said, "Sing us one of the songs of Zion." Oh! sweet spirit of Harmony !—who shall number the weary hearts thou hast soothed-the aching eyes thou hast bathed in balmy tears-the fainting steps thou hast strengthened by the inspiriting accents of thy mysterious and heaven-born voice? "He has no ear for music is a just expression when applied to those whom a deficiency in the structure of that exquisite organ renders less susceptible of its influence; but if it is intended to imply that the ear is the seat of music, we must beg permission to differ from such an opinion. A friend of ours was lately seized with severe illness, and while enduring the thoughts arising from the probability of a fatal termination, a brass band commenced playing under his window; he instantly caused his attendant to support him in a sitting posture; quieted by the effort of the will the pains of his body; hushed his hard breathing lest a note should escape him, while his dull and languid eye glittered with the tear of ecstasy. Now, would any argument convince that man that the elements of music were not interwoven with his very soul? Would any process of reasoning persuade him that the power which recalled his faculties apparently from the brink of the grave, partook of the mortality so convincingly manifested in his sinking frame? When Mozart joined his dying breath to the voices of his friends who were singing the last production of his genius, did he question the capability of Music's power over the enfranchised spirit? Could he think that in leaving earth behind him, he was to bid an eternal farewell to strains that had often wafted him to heaven's gate? Did not his soul feel that there must be something in heaven equivalent to the inspirations of earthly genius?equivalent the term is an insult to the golden harps which express, through eternal ages, the rapture of the angelic minstrels. Those only, whose heart-strings are made to vibrate to Music's touch, can understand its spiritual language, or appreciate its ethereal breathings, which seem to refine our very clay; investing the soul, for a time, with an atmosphere in which it is impossible for any base-born emotion to exist. A person once said, that he felt himself to be a devil at most times, but an angel when under the influence of music; and Saul felt the truth of this, when the evil spirit that tormented him was exorcised by the magic of David's harp. There is too general a disposition in us Englishmen to regard music more in the light of an amusement than an intellectual or social improvement; we are wrong in so doing. In the earnestness of our commercial pursuits, and the absorbing nature of our business habits, we overlook the advantages which would follow the cultivation of a general taste for music. "Oh, but we are not a musical nation," perhaps some one says: well, if we are not, it is possible for us to become so; we certainly must have a great love for it, if we may judge from the enormous sums expended to procure the services of foreign talent. We cannot doubt that musical genius lies hidden in many a nook and corner of our native land, waiting only for the fostering hand of encouragement to promote its growth; not that the object should tend so much to raise here and there a prodigy, as to assist in the advancement of a steady and universal love of the science, till every family becomes a choir, or every house contains an orchestra. It is a question amongst teachers, whether the possession of a very acute ear is not unfavourable to the sound and scientific acquisition of music, from the readiness of such a pupil to catch up airs (perhaps incorrectly played) in preference to the sure but more irksome method of being strictly guided by notes. We suppose it is something like trying to put a race-horse into harness; still, in our humble opinion, we think the preference must be given to those who have a fine ear, rather than to those who have no ear at all. Instances of both cases have come under our notice; a person who played the bass in a musical society, was so dependent on his notes, that if, by any mischance, he happened to be a bar behind the rest, he would continue playing through the piece without detecting his error; yet he was thoroughly versed in the theoretical part of the science. The other case was that of a bugleplayer, who perhaps could hardly tell you whether the gamut consisted of seven notes or seventy, but who had so quick an ear, that he rarely failed in his execution of the most difficult pieces. He too, belonged to an amateur club, which he kept in ignorance of his deficiency for some little time, by the following ruse :—when they met to practise a new piece, he would take his seat, unfold his music, and appear to be deeply engaged in studying its character, till the symphonious prelude announced their readiness to commence, when he would suddenly discover that his instrument had lost a key, or that he had brought an unserviceable mouthpiece; under those circumstances nothing more could be done, but to listen to the performance of the others, which he would do so effectually, that the next time they met, his retentive ear enabled him to go through his part with astonishing precision. Which of these two individuals could be called the best |