Watertown republican. [volume] (Watertown, Wis.) 1860-1906, 1867-09-04
THE DEATH OF MOZART.

w nen musician dies MS song ceases
but his music fingers; an eVer-abldins
cadence in our hearts, influencing all oul
after lives. The wealth of mines seems
poor when compared with the compost
tions which some of our eminent writers
| of music have left behind them and be
queathed as legacies to all the lovers oi
song. Music is full of magic, has charms
for the living and the dying, and furnish.
es study and enjoyment for the inhabi-
tants Of heaven. Sometimes the spirit
while taking final leave of earth, seems
caught away by the sweet strains of the
skies, and, amidst the tears and signs Of
loved attendants who witness the closing
scene, departs with an ecstasy of Joy and
unspeakable delight This has been the
case with number OF eminent composers
in the dying hour.
The death of Mozart, the Great Ger
man Musician, was most touchingly inter-
esting. Few are favored so highly.
Wolfgang Mozart died st Vienna in
the year 1871, and to me there is some
thing strikingly beautiful and touching
in the circumstances of his death. His
sweetest song was the last he sang, and is
entitled "The Requiem he had been
steadily employed upon this exquisite
piece for several weeks, his soul all the
time filled with inspiration and already
claiming kindred with Immortality. AT
ter giving to it it's last touches and
breathing into it that undying spirit of
song which was to consecrate it through
all time, as his "cygnean strain" he fell
into gentle, quiet slumber. At length
the light footsteps of his beautiful daugh-
ter Emile awoke him.
"Come here" said he, "my Emile my
task is done, the Requiem-my Requiem
is finished" "Say not so. my Dear Fa-
ther, said the gentle girl, interrupting
him as the great pearly tears stood in her
eyes. '.You must be better; you look
better; for even now your cheek has a
glow upon it. I am sure father we will
soon nurse you we'll again. Let me go
and bring you something refreshing"
"Do not deceive yourself, my precious
child," said the dying father, "this vast
ed form can never be restored by human
aid. From heavens mercy alone | look
for aid in this my dying hour. You
spoke of refreshments my Emilie-here,
my child, take these my last notes,
down to the piano here,-sing with them
the hymn of your sainted mother-~let me
once more hear those tones which have
been so long my solacement and delight"
Emile obeyed, and with voice enrich
cd with tenderest emotion, sang to her
fathers heaven-born composition the fol-
lowing stanzas: zaZ@sa 5a
Esprit! thy labor is o'erl 3a 50 .eta
Thy term of probation is run, ~
Thy steps are now bound for tn untroddcn
- shore,
And the race of ofimmortals begun,
Spirit! look not on the strife,
Or the pleasures of earth with regret,
Pause not on the threshold of limtless life,
To mourn for the thing that is set. IL
Spirit no fetters can bind, -a
No wicked have power to molest; .....
There the weary, like thee-the wret etched shall
A haven, a mansion of rest. 55t1 As5'
Spritl how bright is the road ~
For which thou art now on the wing, 3G
Thy home it WILDE, with thy Saviour and God,
Their glad halleluja ah to sing"
As Emile concluded, she dwelt for
moment upon the low. melancholy notes
of the piece, and then turning from the
instrument looked in silence for the ap-
proving smile Of her father 1t was the
still, passionless smile which the rapt and
joyous spirit left,-with the seal of death
upon those features. Let me die such a
death. Morn1u0 Star.