the POET, does not correspond either to the qualities or to the
effects displayed in his art. Many would think it a disparagement to
connect the names of Milton or Virgil, Raphael or Michael Angelo, with
those of the greatest musical masters; and it may seem not easy to say
whether this feeling is the result of injustice or accident, on the
one hand; or, on the other, is founded on some deep and solid truth in
the laws and elements of our nature.

The mighty magic that lies in the highest manifestations of musical
composition, must command the wonder and reverence of all who
understand, or even observe, its operation. The power of giving birth
to innumerable forms of exquisite melody, delighting the ear and
stirring every emotion of the soul, agitating us with fear or horror,
animating us with ardour and enthusiasm, filling us with joy, melting
us with grief, now lulling us to repose amidst the luxurious calm of
earthly contentment, now borrowing wings more ethereal than the
lark's, and wafting us to the gate of heaven, where its notes seem to
blend undistinguishably with the songs of superior beings--this is a
faculty that bears no unequivocal mark of a divine descent, and that
nothing but prejudice or pride can deem of trivial or inferior rank.
But when to this is added a mastery over the mysterious combinations
of harmony, a spirit that can make subservient to its one object
immense masses of dissimilar and sometimes discordant, sounds; and,
like the leader of a battle, can ride on the whirlwind and direct the
storm, till it subdue the whole soul, taking captive all our feelings,
corporeal and mental, and moulding them to its will--a power of this
nature seems to equal in dignity the highest faculties of genius in
any of its forms, as it undoubtedly surpasses all the others in the
overwhelming and instantaneous efficacy of its agency while thus
working its wonders. Tame is the triumph of the artist in the
exhibition-room, dim and distant the echo which the poet receives of
the public praise, compared with the unequivocal and irrepressible
bursts of admiration which entrance the great composer in the crowded
theatre, or even with that silent incense which is breathed in the
stifled emotions of his audience in some more sacred place. The
nearest approach to any such enthusiastic tribute, is that which
sometimes awaits the successful tragic poet at the representation of
his dramas; but, besides the lion's share of app