THE RAPE OF PROSERPINE. (SCENE-The Vale of Enna.) PROSERPINE, VIRGINS. Proser. Now come and sit around me, My spirit mounts as triumphing, and my heart, Here-This rose (This one half-blown) shall be my Maia's portion, For that, like it, her blush is beautiful: And this deep violet, almost as blue As Pallas' eye, or thine, Lycimnia, I'll give to thee, for like thyself it wears Its sweetness, never obtruding. For this lily, It flourishes with its guardian's growth, as thou dost ; CHORUS. Behold, behold, Proserpina! How hoary clouds from out the earth arise, And wing their way towards the skies, As they would veil the burning blush of day. And, look, upon a rolling car, Some fearful being from afar Comes onward: As he moves along the ground, Companions him; and from his face doth shine, A light that darkens all the place around, SEMICHORUS. (Cyane,) 'Tis he, 'tis he: he comes to us Proser. He comes indeed. How like a god he looks! Terribly lovely-Shall I shun his eye, Which even here looks brightly beautiful? What a wild leopard glance he has.-I am Jove's daughter, and shall I then deign to fly? PLUTO enters. Pluto. Stay, oh! stay, Proserpina, Proserpina, I come From my Tartarean kingdom to behold you. Bowing before your beauty. Brightest maid! Roamed thro' the earth, where many an eye hath smil'd But I have passed free from amongst them all, And shake the green leaves in the face of day, SEMICHORUS.-(Cyane.) Come with me, away, away, of fire, Nor his wily heart's desire; And which grey Tradition old, With all its weight of grief and crime, Hath barr'd from out the grave of Time. Once again I bid thee flee, Daughter of great Cybele. Proser. You are too harsh, Cyane! Pluto. Oh! my love, Fairer than the white Naiad-fairer far Than ought on earth, and fair as ought in heaven. He has, Cyane; has he not. Can the gods flatter? Away: Pluto. By my burning throne! I love you, sweetest: I will make you queen And you shall rank as high as any she, Save one, within the starry court of Jove. Pluto. I swear it. By myself! Come then, my bride. Proser. Speak thou again, my friend. And bid me not believe him. Ah! you droop Pluto. Come, my bright queen! Come, beautiful Proserpina, and see The regions over which your husband reigns; His palaces and radiant treasures, which Mock and outstrip all fable; his great power, A Queen indeed; and round your forehead shall run Proser. Speak out, Cyane! Pluto. But, above all, in my heart shall you reign Of bloom and beauty, the good spirits walk : Proser. Away, away, away, Nothing but force shall ever.-Oh, away. Pluto. No, by this kiss, and this: I am your own, my love; and you are mine CHORUS. [Forces off Proserpine. They are gone-Afar, afar, Cyane is gradually transformed.) With heavy heart and weeping eye, To sing songs to her memory ? Oh! then, farewell! and now with hearts that mourn But ever on this day we will return, C. ON SONGS AND SONG WRITERS. MR EDITOR, EVERY one who has dabbled in verse, must have found the difficulty of writing a tolerably satisfactory song,I mean, satisfactory even to the author himself. Most people also, whether writers of verses or not, have some remembrance of being frequently disappointed in songs which seemed good, or pleased, against their judgment, with songs which seemed bad, before they were sung. These apparent contradictions, though a little puzzling at first sight, appear to me to be perfectly susceptible of explanation. Nor is that explanation difficult, if the assumption of certain premises be allowed. Hypothesis, however, has generally more or less to do with the illustration of mysterious or contradictory phenomena; and in attempting to elucidate those I have described, I shall be under the necessity of involving some degree of reference to Remarks on the Nature of Musical Expression, and on the Progress of Poetical Style, which have had the good fortune to appear in former numbers of your Miscellany. It will first be necessary to enumerate the difficulties and requisites of song writing. Haying done this, I shall indulge myself in a few observations on well known songs, in their different classes, and on the obstacles to correct judgment on lyrical composition. A good song may be defined to be a short piece of average metrical and poetical merit, adapted to an expressive air. It ought to possess poetical merit equal to that which other approved metrical compositions of the same length usually comprehend: it ought also to be truly lyrical, that is to say, its fitness for being vocally performed should be evident in the fact of the poetical effect of the song being heightened, rather than otherwise, by its being sung. These conditions certainly comprehend, in their performance, considerable difficulties. The song writer will be found to be limited by laws much more severe than those which are imposed upon the writer of other poetical effusions of equal length, whether apparently lyrical or confessedly not so. The ex pression, "apparently lyrical," I use as descriptive of poetical pieces, lyrical in their measure, but which are not intended to be sung, and which cannot be sung without manifest injury to the effect of the composition. This phrase, however, will probably be better understood, after considering the laws to the observance of which the lyrical author is bound. The greatest difficulty, perhaps, in the composition of a song which is intended to be sung to an expressive air, arises from the necessity that every stanza, being sung to the same air, shall embody precisely the train of sentiment or passion which the air musically expresses. This necessity is evident, in as much as if it does not do so, a discordance between the air and the words necessarily occurs; the air conveying one description or degree of feeling, and the words another, which is destructive of lyrical effect. For perfect effect, indeed, it is necessary that the greatest strength of poetical expression in the song should be so introduced as to correspond with those bars of the music in which the musical expression is strongest. When this is not done, although no actual discordance may be evident, the song loses considerably in performance. The expression of the air in some parts is necessarily too strong for the words, and in others too weak, and vice versa. As all lyrical music, which is expressive at all, expresses some passion or powerful feeling, by supposition inherent in and exciting the singer, lyrical music may properly be said to be essentially dramatic. A song, when performed, is a passionate "discourse" in "most eloquent music." Its language must be exclusively that of the feelings; and being so, must, if it is true that simplicity is necessary to the pathetic, be also comparatively free from every appearance of the artificial. This is a severe restriction upon the song writer, who is constantly driven by it towards common-place. This is an unfortunate dilemma. It seems to be almost undeniable, that poetical originality is becoming every day more and more dependant upon far-sought and artificial combinations of thought. Now this directly tends to render more and more difficult the original exhibition of the pure pathetic, in poetical |