"Fair Ellen Irvine,when, she sateUpon the braes of Kirtle,Was lovelyas a Grecian maid,Adorn'd with wreaths of myrtle."
"Fair Ellen Irvine,when, she sateUpon the braes of Kirtle,Was lovelyas a Grecian maid,Adorn'd with wreaths of myrtle."
"Fair Ellen Irvine,when, she sateUpon the braes of Kirtle,Was lovelyas a Grecian maid,Adorn'd with wreaths of myrtle."
"Fair Ellen Irvine,when, she sate
Upon the braes of Kirtle,
Was lovelyas a Grecian maid,
Adorn'd with wreaths of myrtle."
Compare the effect of this stanza with its parenthetic clause and its tale-tagged similitude, to that of the old ballad, so remarkable for its simplicity:—
"I wish I were where Helen lies;Night and day on me she cries;Oh! that I were where Helen lies,On fair Kirkconnel lea."* * * * * *"Curst be the head that thought the thought,Curst be the hand that shot the shot,When in my arms burd Helen dropt,And died to succour me."
"I wish I were where Helen lies;Night and day on me she cries;Oh! that I were where Helen lies,On fair Kirkconnel lea."* * * * * *"Curst be the head that thought the thought,Curst be the hand that shot the shot,When in my arms burd Helen dropt,And died to succour me."
"I wish I were where Helen lies;Night and day on me she cries;Oh! that I were where Helen lies,On fair Kirkconnel lea."
"I wish I were where Helen lies;
Night and day on me she cries;
Oh! that I were where Helen lies,
On fair Kirkconnel lea."
* * * * * *
* * * * * *
"Curst be the head that thought the thought,Curst be the hand that shot the shot,When in my arms burd Helen dropt,And died to succour me."
"Curst be the head that thought the thought,
Curst be the hand that shot the shot,
When in my arms burd Helen dropt,
And died to succour me."
Even on a reading, the effect of these pieces is widely different, and would be felt ten times more were they sung. The best music is ever cast away on involved phraseology; and herein lies, in fact, the main reason for simplicity of construction in songs.
With these hints on the Art of composing Songs, most of the suggestions before given respecting the selection of words of peculiar sounds, may also be kept in mind. Burns forgot them not. Observe his Wandering Willie:—
"Rest, ye wild winds, in the caves of your slumbers,How your dread howling a lover alarms."
"Rest, ye wild winds, in the caves of your slumbers,How your dread howling a lover alarms."
"Rest, ye wild winds, in the caves of your slumbers,How your dread howling a lover alarms."
"Rest, ye wild winds, in the caves of your slumbers,
How your dread howling a lover alarms."
But let all the most admired songs of Burns, and of Moore also, be examined attentively, and the skilful adaptation of the words to the sentiment, the position and the purpose will appear clearly. What language, for example, could be more artistically suited to an exquisitely soft air than the following by Moore?—
"'Tis the last rose of summer,Left blooming alone,All its lovely companionsAre faded and gone."
"'Tis the last rose of summer,Left blooming alone,All its lovely companionsAre faded and gone."
"'Tis the last rose of summer,Left blooming alone,All its lovely companionsAre faded and gone."
"'Tis the last rose of summer,
Left blooming alone,
All its lovely companions
Are faded and gone."
If these lines were written in a dialect utterly strange to the hearer, he still could not but feel their admirable melodiousness, so appropriate to the melodious music. In the case, therefore, of song-writing generally—whether to known or unknown music—the purpose of the composition must ever be kept in mind. A song, if not satisfactorily fitted for vocal utterance, and intelligible on the hearing of a moment, neither deserves, nor will receive, popular appreciation and acceptance. Where true poetry is interfused, as in the productions of Burns and Moore, then, indeed, is mastership in the art of song-writing really shown. Of all classes of writers, the song-writer is perhaps the most truly an artist.