[416] This song, as originally written, the reader will have met with in an earlier part of this publication, (p. 354.) Being afterwards completely remodelled by Mrs Hemans, perhaps no apology is requisite for its re-insertion here.
[417] “Ye myrtles brown, and ivy never sere.”—Lycidas.
[The choral music of St Patrick’s Cathedral, Dublin, is almost unrivalled in its combined powers of voice, organ, and scientific skill. The majestic harmony of effect thus produced is not a little deepened by the character of the church itself, which, though small, yet with its dark rich fretwork, knightly helmets and banners, and old monumental effigies, seems all filled and overshadowed by the spirit of chivalrous antiquity. The imagination never fails to recognise it as a fitting scene for high solemnities of old—a place to witness the solitary vigil of arms, or to resound with the funeral march at the burial of some warlike king.]
[The mention of Neukomm’s magnificent organ-playing brings to remembrance one great enjoyment of Mrs Hemans’s residence in Dublin—the exquisite “Music of St Patrick’s,” of which she has recorded her impressions in the little poem so entitled. Its effect is, indeed, such as, once heard, can never be forgotten. If ever earthly music can be satisfying, it must surely be such as this, bringing home to our bosoms the solemn beauty of our own holy liturgy, with all its precious and endeared associations, in tones that make the heart swell with ecstasy, and the eyes overflow with unbidden tears. There was one anthem, frequently heard within those ancient walls, which Mrs Hemans used to speak of with peculiar enthusiasm—that from the 3d Psalm—“Lord, how are they increased that trouble me!” The consummate skill exhibited in the adaptation of sound to sense in this noble composition is, in truth, most admirable. The symphony to the 5th verse—“I laid me down and slept”—with its soft, dreamy vibrations, gentle as the hovering of an angel’s wing—the utter abandon, the melting into slumber, implied by the half-whispered words that came breathing as from a world of spirits—almost “steep the senses in forgetfulness,” when a sudden outbreak, as it were, of life and light, bursts forth with the glad announcement, “I awaked, for the Lord sustained me;” then the old sombre arches ring with an almost overpowering peal of triumph, bearing to Heaven’s gate the exulting chorus of the 6th and 8th verses.—Memoir, p. 260-1.]
[This lament is intended to imitate the peculiar style of the Irish Keenes, many of which are distinguished by a wild and deep pathos, and other characteristics analogous to those of the national music.]
[418] This, and the five following songs, have been set to music of great merit, by J. Zeugheer Herrmann and H. F. Chorley, Esq., and are published in a set by Mr Power, who has given permission for the appearance of the words in this volume.
“We take each other by the hand, and we exchange a few words and looks of kindness, and we rejoice together for a few short moments: and then days, months, years intervene, and we see and know nothing of each other.”—Washington Irving.
[“Fair Helen of Kirkconnel,” as she is called in the Scottish Minstrelsy, throwing herself between her betrothed lover and a rival by whom his life was assailed, received a mortal wound, and died in the arms of the former.]