MR EDITOR,

EVERY one who has dabbled in verse, must have found the difficulty of writing a tolerably satisfactory song,-I mean, satisfactory even to the author himself. Most people also, whether writers of verses or not, have some remembrance of being frequently disappointed in songs which seemed good, or pleased, against their judgment, with songs which seemed bad, before they were sung. These apparent contradictions, though a little puzzling at first sight, appear to me to be perfectly susceptible of explanation. Nor is that explanation difficult, if the assumption of certain premises be allowed. Hypothesis, however, has generally more or less to do with the illustration of mysterious or contradictory phenomena; and in attempting to elucidate those I have described, I shall be under the necessity of involving some degree of reference to Remarks on the Nature of Musical Expression, and on the Progress of Poetical Style, which have had the good fortune to appear in former numbers of your Miscellany. It will first be necessary to enumerate the difficulties and requisites of song writing. Having done this, I shall indulge myself in a few observations on well known songs, in their different classes, and on the obstacles to correct judgment on lyrical composition.

A good song may be defined to be a short piece of average metrical and poetical merit, adapted to an expressive air. It ought to possess poetical merit equal to that which other approved metrical compositions of the same length usually comprehend: it ought also to be truly lyrical, that is to say, its fitness for being vocally performed should be evident in the fact of the poetical effect of the song being heightened, rather than otherwise, by its being sung. These conditions certainly comprehend, in their performance, considerable difficulties. The song writer will be found to be limited by laws much more severe than those which are imposed upon the writer of other poetical effusions of equal length, whether apparently lyrical or confessedly not so. The expression, "apparently lyrical," I use as descriptive of poetical pieces, lyrical

in their measure, but which are not intended to be sung, and which cannot be sung without manifest injury to the effect of the composition. This phrase, however, will probably be better understood, after considering the laws to the observance of which the lyrical author is bound.

The greatest difficulty, perhaps, in the composition of a song which is intended to be sung to an expressive air, arises from the necessity that every stanza, being sung to the same air, shall embody precisely the train of sentiment or passion which the air musically expresses.

This necessity is evident, in as much as if it does not do so, a discordance between the air and the words necessarily occurs; the air conveying one description or degree of feeling, and the words another, which is destructive of lyrical effect. For perfect effect, indeed, it is necessary that the greatest strength of poetical expression in the song should be so introduced as to correspond with those bars of the music in which the musical expression is strongest. When this is not done, although no actual discordance may be evident, the song loses considerably in performance. The expression of the air in some parts is necessarily too strong for the words, and in others too weak, and vice versa.

As all lyrical music, which is expressive at all, expresses some passion or powerful feeling, by supposition inherent in and exciting the singer, lyrical music may properly be said to be essentially dramatic. A song, when performed, is a passionate "discourse" in "most eloquent music." Its language must be exclusively that of the feelings; and being so, must, if it is true that simplicity is necessary to the pathetic, be also comparatively free from every appearance of the artificial. This is a severe restriction upon the song writer, who is constantly driven by it towards common-place. This is an unfortunate dilemma. It seems to be almost undeniable, that poetical originality is becoming every day more and more dependant upon far-sought and artificial combinations of thought. Now this directly tends to render more and more difficult the original exhibition of the pure pathetic, in poetical

MR EDITOR,

songs

EVERY one who has dabbled in verse, must have found the difficulty of writing a tolerably satisfactory song,-I mean, satisfactory even to the author himself. Most people also, whether writers of verses or not, have some remembrance of being frequently disappointed in songs which seemed good, or pleased, against their judgment, with which seemed bad, before they were sung. These apparent contradictions, though a little puzzling at first sight, appear to me to be perfectly susceptible of explanation. Nor is that explanation difficult, if the assumption of certain premises be allowed. Hypothesis, however, has generally more or less to do with the illustration of mysterious or contradictory phenomena; and in attempting to elucidate those I have described, I shall be under the necessity of involving some degree of reference to Remarks on the Nature of Musical Expression, and on the Progress of Poetical Style, which have had the good fortune to appear in former numbers of your Miscellany. It will first be necessary to enumerate the difficulties and requisites of song writing. Having done this, I shall indulge myself in a few observations on well known songs, in their different classes, and on the obstacles to correct judgment on lyrical composition.

A good song may be defined to be a short piece of average metrical and poetical merit, adapted to an expressive air. It ought to possess poetical merit equal to that which other approved metrical compositions of the same length usually comprehend: it ought also to be truly lyrical, that is to say, its fitness for being vocally performed should be evident in the fact of the poetical effect of the song being heightened, rather than other wise, by its being sung. These conditions certainly comprehend, in their performance, considerable difficulties. The song writer will be found to be limited by laws much more severe than those which are imposed upon the writer of other poetical effusions of equal length, whether apparently lyrical or confessedly not so. The expression, "apparently lyrical," I use as descriptive of poetical pieces, lyrical

in their measure, but which are not intended to be sung, and which cannot be sung without manifest injury to the effect of the composition. This phrase, however, will probably be better understood, after considering the laws to the observance of which the lyrical author is bound.

The greatest difficulty, perhaps, in the composition of a song which is intended to be sung to an expressive air, arises from the necessity that every stanza, being sung to the same air, shall embody precisely the train of sentiment or passion which the air musically expresses.

This necessity is evident, in as much as if it does not do so, a discordance between the air and the words necessarily occurs; the air conveying one description or degree of feeling, and the words another, which is destructive of lyrical effect. For perfect effect, indeed, it is necessary that the greatest strength of poetical expression in the song should be so introduced as to correspond with those bars of the music in which the musical expression is strongest. When this is not done, although no actual discordance may be evident, the song loses considerably in performance. The expression of the air in some parts is necessarily too strong for the words, and in others too weak, and vice versa.

As all lyrical music, which is expressive at all, expresses some passion or powerful feeling, by supposition inherent in and exciting the singer, lyrical music may properly be said to be essentially dramatic. A song, when performed, is a passionate "discourse" in "most eloquent music." Its language must be exclusively that of the feelings; and being so, must, if it is true that simplicity is necessary to the pathetic, be also comparatively free from every appearance of the artificial. This is a severe restriction upon the song writer, who is constantly driven by it towards common-place. This is an unfortunate dilemma. It seems to be almost undeniable, that poetical originality is becoming every day more and more dependant upon far-sought and artificial combinations of thought. Now this directly tends to render more and more difficult the original exhibition of the pure pathetic, in poetical

lively songs failed to overcome, was exacerbated by the harmony of the accompaniments; inasmuch as general stimulants increase the predominant description of feeling of the mind to which they are applied; as for instance, drinking spirituous liquors is well known to heighten instead of alleviating the horrors of a shipwreck.

The songs of the Beggar's Opera are probably the most happy of dramatic lyrics. They are indeed the only English operatic songs that have become really and permanently popular. The airs of "Woman is like a fair flower in its lustre," "I like the fox shall grieve," and, "Can love be controlled by advice?" are in themselves beautiful, without reference to the peculiarities of the plot of the piece. For the right appreciation of the duet of "The Miser thus," and of the song of "The Charge is prepared," it must be recollected, that we set out with a highwayman for a hero, and the whole action is under the atmosphere of Newgate. The songs of the Duenna I must always regard as the weakest part of that performance, nor will the Elegiacs of Burgoyne and Jackson of Exeter, in the Lord of the Manor, go far to redeem the English opera from the mediocrity which seems to be its fate.

Incledon and Dibdin did their best to make sea songs popular, and for a while they succeeded. Dibdin, however, wanted judgment, for, from his

attempts to clothe grave thoughts in seaman's phraseology, good taste will always revolt. In one of his songs, the resurrection is actually thus alluded to.

"When he hears the last whistle, He'll come upon deck."

One might as well think of extracting the sublime from a shopboard. "Oh! penny pipers, and most painful penners

Of bountiful new ballads, what a subject !" But, to be serious-with vulgar slang grave interest can never amalgamate. Divested of this, however, I do not see why the peculiar vicissitudes of a sailor's life might not give variety to the lyric muse, or why the exploits of the " Vikingr," whether of good old Saxon or more modern times, are not as capable of tuneful commemoration as those of heroes upon dry land. Campbell's "Battle of the Baltic," I have read a hundred times, but have never seen the music, if there is any appended to it. The Storm of G. A. Stevens, too, no doubt contains passages of high lyrical merit; but it is, upon the whole, by far too much of a ballad. Black-eyed Susan, and Glover's Admiral Hosier's Ghost, are, I think, hardly to be classed as sea songs. The scenes, to be sure, are laid on board of ship, but they embody no feelings or incidents of any consequence, which are peculiar to a sea life.-I am, &c. D. T.

WHEN first I sought that smile of brightness,
More pleasing haply from its lightness,
I had but felt a transient grief,
To think our love might be as brief.

For tho' thine eyes, as now, were beaming,
Oh! Leila, I was far from dreaming,
That thou would'st claim, when we should
part,

So large a portion of my heart.
Methought the ice my breast defended
Would only make its fires more splendid,
As sunbeams that in winter glow,
Glance brightest from the wreathed snow.
But, oh! my bosom, which before
Began so lightly to adore,

Would now perversely have thee be E'en constant in inconstancy.

IF fate will tear thee from my heart,
Without a warning sign depart,
For I can give no answering sign,
Nor faulter a farewell to thine.

VOL. VII.

And, as the harp's enliven'd strain
Doth oft to melancholy wane
Without the players will or care-
So I am sad, ere well aware.

Alas! though I had ever known
My buried heart was turn'd to stone,
I might have known that this would prove
No hindrance to the growth of love.
Which to the flinty rock will cling,
And as the slender lichens spring,
Obtaining life one knows not where,
Strike root, and live, and flourish there:

Or say the fragile verdure drew
Its being from the air and dew;
So love its tender leaf uprears,
Sown but by sighs, and fed with tears.

If the last wafture of thy hand
Could let my soul forth where I stand,
If the stabb'd heart would truly bleed,
Then kindness would be kind indeed.

E