Mr. Clarinet

A song for St Celia's Day
John Dryden

1
From harmony, from heavenly harmony
      This universal frame began.
    When Nature underneath a heap
      Of jarring atoms lay,
    And could not heave her head,                          5
  The tuneful voice was heard from high:
      "Arise, ye more than dead!"
  Then cold and hot and moist and dry
    In order to their stations leap,
      And Music's power obey.                             10
  From harmony, from heavenly harmony
      This universal frame began;
      From harmony to harmony
  Through all the compass of the notes it ran,
  The diapason closing full in Man.                    15
2
What passion cannot Music raise and quell?
      When Jubal struck the corded shell,
    His list'ning brethren stood around,
      And, wond'ring, on their faces fell
    To worship that celestial sound,                      20
  Less than a god they thought there could not dwell
      Within the hollow of that shell
      That spoke so sweetly and so well.
  What passion cannot Music raise and quell?
3
The trumpet's loud clangor                          25
        Excites us to arms,
      With shrill notes of anger
        And mortal alarms.
      The double double double beat
        Of the thundering drum                            30
        Cries, "Hark, the foes come!
  Charge, charge, 't is too late to retreat!"
4
The soft complaining flute
      In dying notes discovers
      The woes of hopeless lovers,                        35
  Whose dirge is whispered by the warbling lute.
5
Sharp violins proclaim
  Their jealous pangs and desperation,
  Fury, frantic indignation,
  Depth of pains and height of passion,                   40
      For the fair disdainful dame.
6
But oh! what art can teach,
      What human voice can reach
        The sacred organ's praise?
      Notes inspiring holy love,                          45
  Notes that wing their heavenly ways
      To mend the choirs above.
7
Orpheus could lead the savage race,
  And trees unrooted left their place,
      Sequacious of the lyre;                             50
  But bright Cecilia raised the wonder higher:
  When to her organ vocal breath was given,
  An angel heard, and straight appeared--
      Mistaking earth for heaven.
GRAND CHORUS
As from the power of sacred lays                      55
      The spheres began to move,
    And sung the great Creator's praise
      To all the blest above:
    So, when the last and dreadful hour[11]
    This crumbling pageant shall devour,                  60
    The trumpet shall be heard on high,
    The dead shall live, the living die,
    And Music shall untune the sky.