new joyous mood frightens away the birds of
evil omen.

Right in the midst of happenings, we must be warned against too close a
view of individual theme. We must not forget that it is on the
contrasted pairs and again the separate groups of phrases, where all
have a certain common modal purpose, that lies the main burden of the
story. Still if we must be curious for fine derivation, we may see in
the new tune of exultant chorus the late graceful turn that now,
reversing, ends in the former rising phrase. Against it sings the first
line of blissful theme. And the first tune of graceful beauty also finds
a place. But they all make one single blended song, full of glad bursts
and cadences.

Hardly dimmed in mood, it turns suddenly into a phase of languorous
passion, in rich setting of pulsing harp, where now the later figures,
all but the blissful theme, vanish before an ardent song of the
wondering phrase. The motive of passionate desire rises and falls, and
soars in a path of "endless melody," returning on its own line of
flight, playing as if with its shadow, catching its own echo in the
ecstasy of chase. And every verse ends with a new stress of the
insistent upward stride, that grows ever in force and closes with big
reverberating blasts. The theme of the vision joins almost in rough
guise of utmost speed, and the rude marching song breaks in; somehow,
though they add to the maze, they do not dispel the joy. The ruling
phase of passion now rumbles fiercely in lowest depths. The theme of
beauty rings in clarion wind and strings, and now the whole strife ends
in clearest, overwhelming hymn of triumphant gladness, all in the
strides of the old wondering, striving phrase.

[Music]

The whole battle here is won. Though former moments are fought through
again (and new melodies grow out of the old plaint), the triumphant
shout is near and returns (ever from a fresh tonal quarter) to chase
away the doubt and fear. All the former phrases sing anew, merging the
tale of their strife in the recurring verse of united paean. The song at
last dies away, breaking like setting sun into glinting rays of
celestial hue, that pale away into dullest murmur.

Still one returning paroxysm, of wild striving for eluding bliss, and
then comes the close. From lowest depths shadowy tones sing herald
phrases against dim, distorted figures of the theme of beauty,--that
lead to a soft song of the triumphant hymn, _tranquillo_, in gentlest
wh