Overture
Recitative (Tenor)
>From Harmony, from heav'nly Harmony,
This universal frame began.
Accompagnato (Tenor)
When Nature underneath a heap
0f jarring atoms lay,
And could not heave her head;
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 pow'r obey.
Chorus
>From Harmony, from heav'nly Harmony,
This universal frame began:
>From Harmony to Harmony,
Through all the compass of the notes it ran,
The diapason closing full in Man.
Air (Soprano)
What passion cannot Music raise and quell! -
When Jubal struck the chorded shell,
His list'ning brethren stood around ,
And, wond'ring, an their faces fell,
To worship that celestial sound.
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!
Solo (Tenor) and Chorus
The Trumpet's loud clangor
Excites us to arms
With shrill notes of anger,
And mortal alarms.
The double, double, double beat
0f the thund'ring Drum
Cries, hark! the foes come;
Charge, charge! 'tis too late to retreat.
La Marche
Air (Soprano)
The soft complaining Flute
In dying notes discovers
The woes of hopeless lovers,
Whose dirge is whisper'd by the warbling Lute.
Air (Tenor)
Sharp Violins proclaim,
Their jealous pangs and desperation,
Fury, frantic indignation,
Depth of pains, and height of passion,
For the fair disdainful dame.
Air (Soprano)
But oh! what art can teach,
What human voice can reach
The sacred Organ's praise!
Notes inspiring holy love,
Notes that wing their heav'nly ways
To join the choirs above.
Air (Soprano) .
Orpheus could lead the savage race;
And trees uprooted left their place,
Sequacious of the Lyre.
Accompagnato (Soprano)
But bright Cecilia rais'd the wonder high'r:
When to her Organ vocal breath was giv'n,
An angel heard, and straight appear'd,
Mistaking earth for heaven.
Chorus
As from the pow'r of sacred lays
The spheres began to move;
And sung the great Creator's praise
To all the bless'd above:
So when the last and dreadful hour,
This crumbling pageant shall devour;
The Trumpet shall be heard an high, -
The dead shall live, the living die,
And Music shall uptune the sky.