BLUE HAREBELL.
| Have ye ever heard in the twilight dim A low, soft strain That ye fancied a distant vesper-hymn, Borne o'er the plain By the zephyrs that rise on perfumed wing, When the sun's last glances are glimmering? Have ye heard that music, with cadence sweet And merry peal, Ring out like the echoes of fairy feet O'er flowers that steal? The source of that whispering strain I'll tell; For I have listened oft To the music faint of the blue harebell In the gloaming soft: 'Tis the gay fairy-folk the peal who ring, At even-time, for their banqueting. And gayly the trembling bells peal out With gentle tongue; While elves and fairies career about 'Mid dance and song. |
It would be tedious to enumerate and dwell upon all the very numerous music-making agencies of the natural world; and I shall therefore allude only to a few of those not already mentioned.
Many have heard the sounds of waterfalls, and know that from them issues a kind of majestic music, which, to be appreciated, must be heard. Musicians of finely-cultivated ears have studied the tones of waterfalls; and two of them, Messrs. A. and E. Heim, say that a mass of falling water gives
"The chord of C sharp, and also the non-accordant F. When C and D sound louder than the middle note, F is heard very fully, as a deep, dull, humming, far-resounding tone, with a strength proportionate to the mass of the falling water. It easily penetrates to a distance at which the other notes are inaudible. The notes C, E, G, F, belong to all rushing water, and in great falls are sometimes in different octaves. Small falls give the same notes one or two octaves higher. In the stronger falls, F is heard the most easily; in the weak ones, C. At the first attempt, C is most readily detected. Persons with musical cultivation, on attempting to sing near rapidly-moving water, naturally use the key of C sharp, or of F sharp if near a great fall."
Somewhat similar to waterfalls in the character of the tunes they produce (being distinguished, however, generally, by a greater softness and more gentle flow) are the waves, that, handsome in form, roll majestically shoreward, greeting the ear with a strange, dirge-like, yet, as it seems to the writer, pleasing harmony.
Here is given a duet between the waves and zephyrs:—
| "We sit beneath the dreaming moon, And gaze upon the sea: Our hearts with Nature are in tune; List to her minstrelsy. The waves chant low and soft their song, And kiss the rocks in glee; While zephyrs their sweet lay prolong— Their love-song to the sea." |
There is a pretty, delicate music made by the rippling, gurgling brooklet, as its transparent waters glide over its pebbly bottom. And there's the musical sea-shell. Place it to the ear, and you shall catch, as if in the far distance, the reverberating roll of the billowy ocean as it sings a mighty song. To this the poet Wordsworth very gracefully refers in the following lines:—
| "I have seen A curious child, who dwelt upon a tract Of inland ground, applying to his ear The convolutions of a smooth-lipped shell: To which, in silence hushed, his very soul Listened intensely, and his countenance soon Brightened with joy; for from within were heard Murmurings whereby the monitor expressed Mysterious union with its native sea." |
And an anonymous writer (it does not seem that he had good cause for hiding his name) thus discourses on the music of the sea:—
| "The gray, unresting sea, Adown the bright and belting shore Breaking in untold melody, Makes music evermore. Centuries of vanished time, Since this glad earth's primeval morn, Have heard the grand, unpausing chime, Momently new born. Like as in cloistered piles Rich bursts of massive sounds upswell, Ringing along dim-lighted aisles With spirit-trancing spell; So on the surf-white strand Chants of deep peal the sea-waves raise, Like voices from a viewless land Hymning a hymn of praise. By times, in thunder-notes, The booming billows shoreward surge; By times a silver laugh it floats; By times a low, soft dirge. Souls more ennobled grow Listing the worldly anthem rise; Discords are drowned in the great flow Of Nature's harmonies. Men change and 'cease to be,' And empires rise and grow and fall; But the weird music of the sea Lives, and outlives them all. The mystic song shall last Till time itself no more shall be; Till seas and shores have passed, Lost in eternity." |
But the wind is one of Nature's chief musicians. Sometimes singing his own songs, or lending his aid in awaking to musical life the leaves and boughs of the trees; whistling melodies among the reeds; entering the recesses of a hollow column, and causing to issue from thence a pleasing, flute-like sound; blowing his quiet, soothing lays in zephyrs; or rushing around our dwellings, singing his tuneful yet minor refrain—in these, and in even other ways, does this mighty element of the Creator contribute to the production of melody in the world of nature. A writer in "The Youth's Companion" speaks very entertainingly of "voices in trees." He says—
"Trees, when played upon by the wind, yield forth a variety of tones. Mrs. Hemans once asked Sir Walter Scott if he had noticed that every tree gives out its peculiar sound. 'Yes,' said he, 'I have; and I think something might be done by the union of poetry and music to imitate those voices, giving a different measure to the oak, the pine, the willow, &c.' The same journal from which we take this anecdote mentions, that in Henry Taylor's drama, 'Edwin the Fair,' there are some pleasing lines, where the wind is feigned to feel the want of a voice, and to woo the trees to give him one.
"He applied to several: but the wanderer rested with the pine, because her voice was constant, soft, and lowly deep; and he welcomed in her a wild memorial of the ocean-cave, his birthplace. There is a fine description of a storm in 'Coningsby,' where a sylvan language is made to swell the diapason of the tempest. 'The wind howled, the branches of the forest stirred, and sent forth sounds like an incantation. Soon might be distinguished the various voices of the mighty trees, as they expressed their terror or their agony. The oak roared, the beech shrieked, the elm sent forth its long, deep groan; while ever and anon, amid a momentary pause, the passion of the ash was heard in moans of thrilling anguish.'"
I shall close this chapter on the music of Nature by appending a beautiful reference to what has been called "the music of the spheres." The lines form, as well, an elegant and elevated description of and tribute to music in general. I regret that the author's name cannot be given.
| "The Father spake: in grand reverberations Through space rolled on the mighty music-tide; While to its low, majestic modulations The clouds of chaos slowly swept aside. The Father spake: a dream, that had been lying Hushed from eternity in silence there, Heard the pure melody, and, low replying, Grew to that music in the wondering air— Grew to that music, slowly, grandly waking, Till, bathed in beauty, it became a world; Led by his voice, its spheric pathway taking, While glorious clouds their wings around it furled. Not yet has ceased that sound, his love revealing; Though, in response, a universe moves by: Throughout eternity its echo pealing, World after world awakes in glad reply. And wheresoever in his rich creation Sweet music breathes—in wave, in bird, or soul— 'Tis but the faint and far reverberation Of that great tune to which the planets roll." |
III.
A GLANCE AT THE HISTORY OF MUSIC.
| "Thespis, the first professor of our art, At country wakes sang ballads from a cart." Dryden. |
MUSIC is as old as the world itself. In some form or other, it has always existed. Ere man learned to give vent to his emotions in tuneful voice, Nature, animate and inanimate, under the hand of the Great Master, sang his praises. Of this we learn in the