The Portland daily press. [volume] (Portland, Me.) 1862-1921, 1872-08-10
TERMS $500 PER ANNUM IN ADVANCE.

RICHARD WAGNER, the prophet OF the
future school," is one of the most curious
phenomena Of musical history His operas,
OF which the lbretti are written by himself
are iull OF extravagances-but in the midst
OF Wild progressions of discords, will some
times be heard phrase of most suooestive
beauty, and dramatic truth. He desn;sas
melody as vulgarly effective, substitutino for
it cdntitena without cadence or neriod . vet
with this scorn of effect he demands for tho
representation of his "Der Ring des Nibe-
hngen" monster theatre and scenery ofun-
precedented magnifcenco and cast. Handel
required as properties" for his sublime operas
only ga helmet and a sofa.'' The following
ode, from the London Spectator is an admir-
able burlesque ON the pretensions of this
modern school of composers, and although
somewhat long, will repay careful reading by
its real merit as a work of art, its clear per-
ception Of ''the situation and its stately i'm
itation of the Miltonic measure:
Hence, loathed Melody
Thou apish semblance Of articulate sound,
The world hath done with thee;,
NO more shall fingers weave thy volube round
digging Sebastian; hence ye shadowy forms,
1e dilettante swarms
handel or Haydn, powerful erst,
In mans fond infancy.
Now ON the tranced elements hath burst
The music Of the true, the unde efed
fe snare no more mems hearts by sugared art be-
guied.
Hence, ye cobweb-s -spinners, hence;
Fancy yields to eonquering sense =
See! the great Tannhauser comes
Cymbals clash, sound Kettle drums
Now the pipe, the clarion brays
Vocal in Tannhausers praise
Scion he of giant BROOD
Nurslng Of the savage wood,
Playmate OF the shaggy bear
Natures sole interpreter.
Ears he hath for the hidden cry
VI the wild wind sweeping by
Skill to praise in rugged tones
what Olu ocean hOarsely moans.
Yield, ye sour-lipped critics. yield,
see, Iannhauser storms the field;
Cease, ahl cease your droning hum
Iweedle-dee and Tweedle-dum.
Withyour routed legions flee
Tweedle-dum and Tweedle-dee.
Fly, Mozart Beethoven 1y
Vain your linked panoply,E
Inc sweet web Of golden mail
Crushed beneath your hero's fail.
MUSIC, heavenly maid, is born
Not that false siren, who hath shorn
Inc locks nom many champions head
ON her lap Of dalliance spread
Which such fell enehantment wrought
That their manhood they forgot,
Babbled weak and souess trash
sentimental balderdash,
Lisped in pretty mincng measures
Gllded pinchbeck, tinsel treasures
anu the TdpJurOuS world teklp1
BY the dulcet tones that trickled
From l0rn lutte amorOusy;
Or paed, as tuned to loftiest kew
In measured march of awful sound
Thunder music shook the ground.
Slayish fddlers Of old time,
Toiling at painful rhyme
Fain to cozen the Dice ear
With pulling tune, and tear
Sense from sentiment apart
so you could but touch the heart
Pshaw! mere study of effect
Inat ne'er could reach the intellect
We can bid each passion thrill
On note, and pass at will
FROM grave TO gay, from hot to cold
In convolutions manifold
Khythmical our movement flows
Slow the varied fabric grows,
VI fantastic shape and STYLE
May as gothic pile,
with pepper boxes here and there,
And cravings Of random stair
NO dull classic ParthenOn,
with formal pillars OF cold stone
Not such temple will we build
10 honor him, whose song hath filed
Our rapt spirit with new delight;
Hail, Baireuthl the favored site
Of our palace, whence shall flow
Streams OF rhymthic sense that glow
With clear, metallic, lava-heat
And shIivel the fiaunting vines that meet
Its solid force with wantoning
VI teadrils in the buxom spring.
Earth shall soon forget her youth,
And the DIRE ans she dreamed were truth
Fade before the critics glass.
Our poor rathersi let them pass
With mild and patient smile;
Iheir day IS DER their whims beguile
Our trained intellect ne more
Burn, mOjerns burn the hived store
VI old experience, musty grown,
Doddered ed with eyes of stone
Bid Fancy loose each driveling thrall
And common sense be all in all.