Classic Poem

I.

Music the coldest Heart can warm,
The hardest melt, the fiercest charm;
Disarm the Savage of his Rage,
Dispel our Cares, and Pains assuage;
With Joy it can our Souls inspire,
And tune our Tempers to the Lyre;
Our Passions, like the Notes, agree,
And stand subdu'd by Harmony.
This found the melancholy King ,
When D AVID tun'd the trembling String:
Sweet Music chas'd the sullen Spleen away,
And made his clouded Soul serenely gay.

II.

W HILE Music breathes in martial Airs,
The Coward dares forget his Fears;
Or, if the Notes to Pity sound,
Revenge and Envy cease to wound:
The Pow'r of Music has been known,
To raise or tumble Cities down:
Thus Theban Turrets, Authors say,
Were rais'd by Music'S Magick Lay;
And antient Jericho 's Heav'n-hated Wall,
To sacred Music , ow'd its destin'd Fall.

III.

N OR Mortals only Music love;
It chears celestial Saints above:
Sweet Hallelujahs Angels sing
Around their great Ethereal K ING ;
Ceasless they sound the F ATHER'S Praise,
The F ATHER too approves their Lays;
For HE (as all Things) Music made,
And S ERAPHIMS before Him play'd:
When over Horeb 's Mount He came,
Array'd in Majesty and Flame;
After the sounding Trump, sublime, He rode;
The sounding Trump proclaim'd th' approaching GOD.

IV.

Music had Being, long before
The solemn Organ learnt to roar:
When M ICHAEL , o'er the heav'nly Plain,
Advanc'd, to fight the rebel Train;
Loud Trumpets did his Wrath declare,
In Music , terrible to hear:
And when the Universe was made,
On golden Harps the Angels play'd:
And when it falls, (as fall it must)
Music shall penetrate the Dust;
The Trump shall sound with the Archangel's Breath;
And, sweetly dreadful! wake the Dead from Death.