From the Agamemnon of Aeschylus. Sad was the hour Of the flight of the maiden; She passed overladen Through the dark-frowning portals From a lover discarded, All wrathfulness bearing, All sorrow and shame, She, fearless in daring, Alas, for the palace! Alas, for the Chief! Thou'st poured from thy chalice Full measure, Oh Grief! The couch is deserted, The loved one has flown; From his side averted, Her footsteps have gone. E'en yet scarce believing In saddest dishonor- Her place in his home. The fair palace halls, Their loveliness passes Like the swift light of day, Whilst memory glasses The sweet one, away. And vain is the vision Ah! vain the seeming and the dreaming of the rapture-bringing And keen the sorrow which we borrow from the melancholy light! For ere the vision, with sweet fruition, doth our souls in rapture steep, Too swiftly flying, 'tis far up-plying, on the wings of wanton sleep. So sadly sang the bards their sorrows at the hearth,— All knowing that but ashes shall return, and urns, Unto the homes whence went they forth with hopings high. H. E. H. The Songs of Yale. So many pages have been written on our songs and singing, that the topic would have been worn thread-bare long ago, had it not been one of paramount interest. But we are emphatically a musical community. We have a song adapted to every time and temperament, to every meeting, literary or convivial, to every class, club and society, and to nearly every one of the pleasant places where our lines have fallen. Nor is it a matter of marvel, that "vocal verse" fills so large a place in the heart of the student. From constant, unrestrained intercourse "cum paribus," his tastes become pre-eminently social, while the man of business by a continual reliance on his individual effort, feels, save during an occassional lull in the hurricane of business, a sense of isolation that renders him reserved and formal.-For the former also, "Youth and hope a glory wear," and more, the nature of his pursuits fit him to enjoy with a keener relish so refined a relaxation. And refined it is, for a song is the bridal of poetry and music-not of intricate and high wrought harmony with stately verse-but a modest, though clear and striking ballad wedded to a simple, easy flowing melody. Hence, the secret of its magical influence. The sublime measures of Milton, meet with an instinctive appreciation in few breasts, while fewer still can respond with full comprehension to the glorious symphonies of Beethoven-but who cannot freely sympathize with the beautiful Lyrics of Burns and Congreve, or with the familiar airs of Carolan and Stevenson. And, whose feelings have not been chastened and purified, whose joy has not been heightened, whose grief has not been softened by their influence? How many a throbbing brain and desponding heart, has been soothed and cheered by a song of Yale, and as its notes rise and blend in harmony, the hearts of the singers are tuned to a more perfect unison, and the tempests of passion, envy, rivalry, are calmed. But let us look for a moment at our new collection. The songs that, like the vaticinations of the Cumæan Sibyl, have been whisking about on numberless Pow-Wow and Presentation Programmes, have again been gathered into an unassuming little pamphlet. The volume opens with a "Song of degrees" by King David.. We leave it to the unfortunate Hebrew optionals to say, whether the uncouth rhymes of Sternhold and Hopkins, are an improvement on the original of the "Monarch Minstrel." Next in order of Antiquity, comes that sapphic gem, " Integer vitae." Beautiful in itself, and doubly so, from the exquisite air to which it is sung, it will be a lasting favorite. The remainder are almost exclusively Yale songs, and of course, meritorious productions. The editor deserves our warm thanks, for his assiduity in collecting the materials, and his taste in their arrangement. But, in a collection embracing such a variety, it would be impossible for an editor to gratify the tastes of all, and perhaps it is owing more to sympathy with the composer, than merit in the composition, that makes us regret the omission of the Burial Dirge, commencing, "In the arms of Death, old Euclid sleepeth." Its gifted author, who, during his brief career in the midst of us, left us so rich a legacy of songs, is now a " captive people," and has hanged his harp upon the willows of a sister institution, where they are considered incendiary publications, and are as scarce as antislavery tracts. The only positive blemish in the collection is that mentioned in the preface. Too few of our songs are sufficiently general in their nature. Every class furnishes its quota for our Jubilees and cele brations. How few leave one like "Alma Mater" or "Gaudeamus," that we can swell out with a gusto on all occasions. The limited number of such songs makes us feel more deeply the loss of "Darbiensis Aries," which has no doubt been "crowded out by the press of other matter," to borrow the consoling language of "Notices to contributors." Why doesn't that stirring old melody, "It's a way we have at Old Yale, Sir," appear in this catalogue? Whoever was its author, it was first introduced here as a College song, although it is now chanted with fervor at every institution on the continent. Think of that glorious old refrain, metamorphosed into such a polypedal hypermeter as "It's a way we have at the University of North Carolina, Sir!" Sheer respect for the laws of Prosody would warrant us in making it exclusively Yalensian. There also appeared in the last issue of that erratic publication, the Gallinipper, a gem of this kind worthy of a better setting, and which we hoped would glitter on the pages of our new collection. But when we have garnered up these and others that time forbids us to specify, we still need more. Will not some of our prolific poets turn their talents in this direction? It is said that the subjects are trite, and the themes narrow. But has not the subject-matter of songs been always limited? When was not "vinum et mulieres" made the staple of lyrical poetry? and yet the themes are not exhausted, for we daily meet with effusions on these well worn topics, that wear the ruddy glow of novelty. Now, a song in which vinum is the principal ingredient, would not properly mirror student life, and for the same reason a puling sentimentalism is to be discarded; and yet our best songs are spiced with love and wine. We lead a rollicking, free and easy life, and should not be over scrupulous about making our melodies too jovial and "fast." We would not have our choruses reek with ribaldry, nor steeped in the sensuality of a carousal. But we also object to the starched teetotalism that would subject the beautiful anacreontic of the "Autocrat," to such "slight alterations" as would render it a Lyrical Temperance lecture. Listen to the following: VOL. XXII. "This bottle's the sun of our table, His beams are the rosy Wine, Now it cannot be denied that the bottle here referred to comes into direct antagonism with the college statute prohibiting the use of intoxicating beverages, and that its spirit clashes with the cepts of "sound morality." What then! Why of course every such sentiment must be mercilessly tabooed. Not at all-we have yet to learn that they exert a demoralizing influence. But a few evenings since, a knot of Representatives were scandalized by the evident relish with which a score of students rendered, "Landlord, fill the flowing bowl," and yet every one of the twenty most religiously eschewed all potables that will inebriate. We would not have a song entirely bacchanalian, but an occasional stanza of such a nature, tends not only to afford relief to the prevailing classical and semi-pedantic tendency, so universal in student productions, but also to show the convivial as well as scholastic phase of our life. Mingle then in due proportion, these time-honored, custom-consecrated themes, with some of the thousand others that are exclusively Collegian, and there opens a wide field for variety in student songs. Perhaps, the Editors of the Lit. would set apart a sum from their overflowing treasury, and establish another medal (?) for excellence in this department. They would gladly publish them at all events. And remember, oh, you who art panting after celebrity, that he who leaves behind him a sprightly song will meet with a speedy apotheosis at the hands of future freshmen. If a vote should be polled to day on the question, who was the greater benefactor to Alma Mater, Francis M. Finch, or Elihu Yale, who doubts that the latter gentleman would be black-balled, despite the very interesting and lengthy biography of his excellency, in a late number of this periodical. Ponder on these things, ye who "string the pearls of poesy." It is for you to say whether the compiler of the next edition of "Songs of Yale," will be obliged to take up the lamentation of his predecessors, that few of them are of general interest. You cannot estimate the purifying, elevating influence that a good song will exert over us while here-and in later years, a glimpse of it may kindle up old College reminiscences that will flush along the track of the rugged years, through which we have plodded, till we forget their toils and struggles, and -laugh in the light of their memories bright, And treasure them all for the morrow. |