The Music of Nature, Or, An Attempt to Prove that what is Passionate and Pleasing in the Art of Singing, Speaking, and Performing Upon Musical Instruments, is Derived from the Sounds of the Animated World
Longman, 1832 - 530 Seiten
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accent admiration animals appeared attention bass beautiful bells Bird breath called CHAPTER character close common composer compositions delight described distance effect English excellence execution expression eyes feelings force formed give given grace greatest hand harmony Haydn hear heard heart highest human hundred idea instance instrument introduced Italy keep kind language less letter light listen lively manner marked means melody mind mouth move musician natural nearly never noise observes opening Opera orchestra organs passages passed passions performance persons piece play pleasure possess present probably produced remark scarcely similar singer singing soft song soprano sound speaking stage strain striking string style sweet taste tion tone tune uttered violin vocal voice vowel whole wind writer written
Seite 343 - Full on this casement shone the wintry moon, And threw warm gules on Madeline's fair breast, As down she knelt for heaven's grace and boon ; Rose-bloom fell on her hands, together prest, And on her silver cross soft amethyst, And on her hair a glory, like a saint: She seem'da splendid angel, newly drest, Save wings, for heaven...
Seite 467 - Fountain heads and pathless groves, Places which pale passion loves! Moonlight walks, when all the fowls Are warmly housed save bats and owls! A midnight bell, a parting groan! These are the sounds we feed upon; Then stretch our bones in a still gloomy valley; Nothing's so dainty sweet as lovely melancholy.
Seite 301 - And the birds in the adjoining grove seemed to have a friendly contention with an echo, whose dead voice seemed to live in a hollow tree, near to the brow of that primrose hill.
Seite 467 - Welcome, folded arms, and fixe'd eyes, A sigh that piercing mortifies, A look that's fasten'd to the ground, A tongue chain'd up without a sound ! Fountain-heads and pathless groves, Places which pale passion loves ! Moonlight walks, when all the fowls Are warmly housed save bats and owls ! A midnight bell, a parting groan...
Seite 230 - Of all the occurrences of their life that of laying seems to be the most important; for no sooner has a hen disburdened herself, than she rushes forth with a clamorous kind of joy, which the cock and the rest of his mistresses immediately adopt. The tumult is not confined to the family concerned, but catches from yard to yard, and spreads to every homestead within hearing, till at last the whole village is in an uproar.
Seite 467 - HENCE, all you vain delights, As short as are the nights Wherein you spend your folly : There's nought in this life sweet, If man were wise to see't, But only melancholy...
Seite 331 - But that which did please me beyond anything in the whole world, was the wind-musique when the angel comes down ; which is so sweet that it ravished me, and indeed, in a word, did wrap up my soul so that it made me really sick, just as I have formerly been when in love with my wife...
Seite 47 - His voice was both full and clear; his lowest whisper was distinctly heard, his middle tones were sweet, rich, and beautifully varied; when he elevated his voice to its highest pitch, the house was completely filled with the volume of the sound. The effect was awful, except when he wished to cheer or animate; he then had spiritstirring notes, which were perfectly irresistible.
Seite 271 - Oft, on a plat of rising ground I hear the far-off curfew sound Over some wide-water'd shore, Swinging slow with sullen roar; Or, if the air will not permit, Some still removed place will fit, Where glowing embers through the room...
Seite 42 - The curfew tolls the knell of parting day, The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea, The ploughman homeward plods his weary way, And leaves the world to darkness and to me. Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight, And all the air a solemn stillness holds, Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight, And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds...