New-York daily tribune., 1843-07-29
: or The Tribune.
NJ Usic.
The man that hath no music in his soul.
Nor is not moved b. concord Of sweet $


IS II for treason, stI4tassm and spoil. Shakespeare.
Well sung, sweet bard OF Avon And for the
hundrcdth time, while ponderirg thy sunbeam
pencilcd pages, we yield assent. There is music
in the footballs of thy Muse swecter than is played
fir, &c garnmut of the Iourics. As on the
harp, the touch OF cre chord prompts the sympa-
thetic vibration OF kindred strings so doth thy
magic touch upon some chord in the harp Of t..c
soul, summon IA full dapason Of unwrittcn har-
mony rom al The thrilling wires.
Music, sweet Music 20 cllarmer hath a
more potent, kindller sway. The wings Of TIE
angel that brought the gift from Heaven, must
have been radiant with beauty, moved by the
Tcry soul of harmony, and balmed with richer
than Casta!iaii dew. Poets have lavishcd their
pamest lays in honor OF thee; philosophers have
sought thy aid in infusng the sublimcst truths
into the human soul yoluptuaries have taskcd
thee to make bliss more blissful: the warrior,
-'i'i, Inv trane upon hun, hath mockel the bat
tlc and the Christian, On Inv pcrfumed wings
hath gone TO heaven.
Music for the WelGncholy. Avc-lct it IL
brcathed over the dcsponding heart, and even if
II INT
night, crc long you shall see cheerfuucss climb
ing up the horizon Of despair, like the moon be-
yond the mountains, hallowing every thing with
light, softer from The very darkness it iIlumincs,
ard more bland than the noor-tide CT unclouded
CV. Ycr-pour forth the mystic soul OF song,
and The downcas. brow shall lose its cloud of
care, the eve shall anon beam with It's wontcd
cheer, and The check grow radiant with ,rnilcs
Music for the WOuracr. Not the wild measures
that lead the dance or that rouse wrath IN the
tempest Of battle. 9 no-soit as angel whisper
ings, and plaint;ve as the meanings of the
guishcd heart, be the tones that would balm the
stricken in heart. Let them murmur Of bllghted
hope and buried love, ill the crushed feelings
are identified with the sympathetic strain. But
bid not the thought long wander III the grave
Lc; the melody, embodied as it were, into thou
sand lrsed hues, gid the portals of the tomb, and
stream, like the auroral glory, toward Heaven.
Let the measures of sweetness steal over the soul,
charming it to mistake them for the footsteps ot
the loved and lost upon the celestial hills
Let them instill words of hope in the car that
aches in listening for the voice that is hlished on
earth forever Let them breathe ike the COM
munngs OF the spirit, that, having left It's mortal
tabernacle, yet stoops from It's starry sphere, to
cheer the lonely sojourncr in the scene o! sun
dercd ties and upward guide the aspirations Of
dis faith.
And Music for the iorcr. What listener keeps
better time TO Euterpe's flute, than he? Why,
his soul is itself panharmonicon, and its finest
chords arc so tense and sensitive under the insp-
ration of love, that the tiny cricket that clirps
his late screnadc beneath his lattice, unseas
fountain of feeling within his bosom, whose con-
tents rush with a delicious thrill adown his
nerves. a blithe and Joyous melody will immc-
diatey recall the flashes of his misresss eye, or
the smile he last observed lingering upon her
lip; while the plaintvc strain OF the distant flute,
borne at twilight with step too soft to waken the
dropped flower from its pearly rest, sends his pill
grim thoughts back to the sigh he once saw her
hcavc, when he spoke of u long departure. Joy
to the lover! vivid be his perception Of the har
monies of which liic's morning is full: but, alas
that ere long its sombrc realities should cause his
heart to beat tune less jocund than that which
beguilcd his days of romance and dreams!
-Fie it is midnight, and | believe | am
growing sentimental. Enough Of music, until
hear better than this imp o! a mosquito makes
around my candle r. w. B. I.