O POWER OF MUSIC
O power of Music! whence thy spellOn man and brute, on soul and heart?What spirit haunts the chorded shell,Whose murmurs every passion start?The silent tenants of the sea,The brinded pard and serpent, ownThy sway—their fierceness tamed by thee,They cower and writhe about thy throne.Thy lordly breath to war can yieldA glory wild, a nameless charm;The sworded ranks, the embattled fieldThou fill’st with bosoms high and warm;The gorgeous palaces of oldThy magic numbers cause to rise,And faces, which the valley’s mouldHas hidden long from weeping eyes.The depths of love, its wild despair,By thee are told, are breathed by thee,And while thy whispers fill the air,A better world we seem to see;Some happier region undefiled,Where youth and beauty aye abide—Where sin the spirit ne’er beguiled,And joy fills up the circuit wide.
O power of Music! whence thy spellOn man and brute, on soul and heart?What spirit haunts the chorded shell,Whose murmurs every passion start?The silent tenants of the sea,The brinded pard and serpent, ownThy sway—their fierceness tamed by thee,They cower and writhe about thy throne.Thy lordly breath to war can yieldA glory wild, a nameless charm;The sworded ranks, the embattled fieldThou fill’st with bosoms high and warm;The gorgeous palaces of oldThy magic numbers cause to rise,And faces, which the valley’s mouldHas hidden long from weeping eyes.The depths of love, its wild despair,By thee are told, are breathed by thee,And while thy whispers fill the air,A better world we seem to see;Some happier region undefiled,Where youth and beauty aye abide—Where sin the spirit ne’er beguiled,And joy fills up the circuit wide.
O power of Music! whence thy spellOn man and brute, on soul and heart?What spirit haunts the chorded shell,Whose murmurs every passion start?The silent tenants of the sea,The brinded pard and serpent, ownThy sway—their fierceness tamed by thee,They cower and writhe about thy throne.
O power of Music! whence thy spell
On man and brute, on soul and heart?
What spirit haunts the chorded shell,
Whose murmurs every passion start?
The silent tenants of the sea,
The brinded pard and serpent, own
Thy sway—their fierceness tamed by thee,
They cower and writhe about thy throne.
Thy lordly breath to war can yieldA glory wild, a nameless charm;The sworded ranks, the embattled fieldThou fill’st with bosoms high and warm;The gorgeous palaces of oldThy magic numbers cause to rise,And faces, which the valley’s mouldHas hidden long from weeping eyes.
Thy lordly breath to war can yield
A glory wild, a nameless charm;
The sworded ranks, the embattled field
Thou fill’st with bosoms high and warm;
The gorgeous palaces of old
Thy magic numbers cause to rise,
And faces, which the valley’s mould
Has hidden long from weeping eyes.
The depths of love, its wild despair,By thee are told, are breathed by thee,And while thy whispers fill the air,A better world we seem to see;Some happier region undefiled,Where youth and beauty aye abide—Where sin the spirit ne’er beguiled,And joy fills up the circuit wide.
The depths of love, its wild despair,
By thee are told, are breathed by thee,
And while thy whispers fill the air,
A better world we seem to see;
Some happier region undefiled,
Where youth and beauty aye abide—
Where sin the spirit ne’er beguiled,
And joy fills up the circuit wide.