says the jealous husband in the "Winter's Tale." Chaucer, Spenser, Shakespeare, and Milton, all mention the organ. Chaucer speaks of several instruments; but we cannot trace to him any other keyed one. It is rather surprising that the poets, considering the love of music natural to them, and their frequent mention of the art, have spoken of so few musical instruments; at least, as if conversant with them in their houses. Milton was an organ-player, and Gay a flute-player, (how like the difference of their genius!) Thomson possessed an Eolian harp, of which he seems to have been very fond. He has addressed an ode to it (from which the verses have been set to music, beginning,

"Methinks I hear the full celestial choir ");

and has again mentioned the instrument in his "Castle of Indolence," a most fit place for it.

All the truest lovers of any one art admire the other arts. Farinelli had several harpsichords, to which he gave the names of painters, according to their respective qualities, calling one his Raphael, another his Correggio, &c. And the exquisite little painting, by Annibal Carracci, in the British Gallery, of "Silenus teaching Apollo to play the Pan-pipe" (together with a companion-picture hanging near it), is said to have formed one of the compartments of the harpsichord belonging to that great painter. This is the natural magnificence of genius, which thinks no ornaments too precious for the objects of its love. We should like to be rich enough to play at imitating these great men, and see how much we could do to aggrandize a piano

forte. Let us see: it should be of the most precious, aromatic wood; the white keys, ivory (nothing can be better than that); the black, ebony; the legs sculptured with foliage and Loves and Graces; the pannels should all be Titians and Correggios; the most exquisite verses out of the poets should be carved between them; an arabesque cabinet should stand near it, containing the finest compositions; and Rossini should come from Italy to play them, and Pasta to sing.

Meantime, what signifies all this luxury? The soul of music is at hand, wherever there are keys and strings and loving fingers to touch them; and this soul, which disposes us to fancy the luxury, enables us to do without it. We can enjoy it in vision, without the

expense.

We take the liberty of closing this article with two copies of verses, which two eminent living musicians, Messrs. Barnett and Novello, have done us the honor to set to music. The verses have been printed before ; but many of our readers will not have seen them. We did not think it possible for any words of our own to give us so much pleasure in the repetition, as when we heard her father's composition sung by the pure and most tuneful voice of Miss Clara Novello (Clara is she well named): and the reader may see what is thought of Mr. Barnett's powers, by musical judges, in a criticism upon it in a late number of the "Atlas," or another in a new cheap periodical publication called the "Englishwoman," heiress to the graces and good stock of her deceased parents, the "Ladies' Gazette" and the "Penny Novelist," and uniting them both to better advantage.

99

THOUGHTS ON HEARING SOME BEAUTIFUL MUSIC.

(Set to music by Vincent Novello.)

When lovely sounds about my ears
Like winds in Eden's tree-tops rise,
And make me, though my spirit hears,
For very luxury close my eyes;
Let none but friends be round about,

Who love the smoothing joy like me,
That so the charm be felt throughout,
And all be harmony.

And when we reach the close divine,
Then let the hand of her I love
Come with its gentle palm on mine,
As soft as snow, or lighting dove;
And let, by stealth, that more than friend
Look sweetness in my opening eyes:
For only so such dreams should end,
Or wake in Paradise.

THE LOVER OF MUSIC TO HIS PIANO-FORTE.

(From Barnett's "Lyrical Illustrations of the Modern Poets.")

O friend, whom glad or grave we seek,

Heaven-holding shrine!

Oh! since no joy of human mould

Thus waits us still,

Thrice blest be thine, thou gentle fold Of peace at will!

No change, no sullenness, no cheat,

In thee we find :

Thy saddest voice is ever sweet;

Thine answer, kind.

WHY SWEET MUSIC PRODUCES SADNESS.

શ

lowing passage,

WEET music, that is to say, "sweet" in the sense in which it is evidently used in the folsomething not of a mirthful character, but yet not of a melancholy one, - does not always produce sadness; but it does often, even when the words, if it be vocal music, are cheerful. We do not presume to take for granted, that the reason we are about to differ with, or perhaps rather to extend, is Shakespeare's own, or that he would have stopped thus short if speaking in his own person; though he has given it the air of an abstract remark: but Lorenzo, in the "Merchant of Venice,” says that it is because our "spirits are attentive.”

"I'm never merry when I hear sweet music,"

says pretty Jessica.

"The reason is, your spirits are attentive,"

says her lover:

For do but note a wild and wanton herd,
Or race of youthful and unhandled colts,

Fetching mad bounds, bellowing and neighing loud,
Which is the hot condition of their blood;