An ODE
For the Anniversary Feast of St. Cæcilia, On the 23d Day of November, 1691.
Set to Music by Dr. John Blow.
THE Glorious Day is come, that will for ever be
Renown'd as MUSIC'S greatest Jubilee:
The Spheres, those Instruments Divine,
Tun'd to Apollo's Charming Lyre;
The Sons of all the Learned Nine,
With soft Harmonious Souls Inspire;
Behold, around Pernassus Top they sit,
And Heavenly Music now, vies with Immortal Wit.
Warm'd by the Nectar from the Thespian Spring,
Of bright Cæcilia they sing;
Admir'd Cæcilia that informs their Brains:
Their awful Goddess, that their Cause maintains;
And with her sacred Pow'r supplies,
The Artful Hand and tuneful Voice,
And gives a taste of Paradice, in more than mortal Strains.
And first the Trumpets Part
Inflames the Heroe's Heart;
The Martial Noise compleats his Joys,
And Soul Inspires by Art:
And now he thinks he's in the Field,
And now he makes the foe to yield;
Now Victory does eagerly pursue,
And Music's warlike Notes make every fancy true.
The Battle done, all loud alarms do cease,
Hark how the charming Flutes conclude the Peace;
Whose softening Notes make fiercest Rage obey:
If Pan, beneath the famous Mirtle's shade,
To Midas half so well had Play'd,
The Delphian God himself had lost the Day.
