that, amid the gaieties and splendours by which
the lover was enthralled, the recollection of Grace Gerard sometimes
mingled in the revelries of this votary of pleasure. It often came as a
warning and a rebuke. By degrees the impression grew less powerful. Each
succeeding wave from the ever-tossing ocean left the traces less
distinct, until they were overwhelmed in the dull tide of oblivion.

NOTE ON THE BALLAD, p. 269.

The _music_ to these words is _traditionary_, if we may be allowed the
expression. It is one of the many wild and characteristic melodies
floating about, perhaps unappropriated, on the popular breath, varied
indefinitely according to the humour of the performer. The author has
listened to several of these ditties; some of them he thinks peculiar to
this and the neighbouring counties. They are generally sung by the
labouring classes, and would, in many cases, defy any attempt to commit
them to writing, being apparently founded upon a ratio of tones and
semitones at variance with our diatonic scale. From this we might almost
be led to imagine some truth in the theory that the ancients had
different scales peculiar to their different moods: a theory which,
however impossible it may be considered, is not without its advocates,
who will perhaps not be displeased to find here some slight confirmation
of their opinions. Yet in these songs the prevailing character of the
minor key may generally be detected, which, from its being imperfect,
and probably vitiated by the mistakes of these rustic melodists, may
give a colour to the notion of a change in the scale.

The great antiquity of these melodies is unquestionable, and it would be
an interesting inquiry to trace them back through remote ages, perhaps
to the Jewish temple and the tent of the patriarchs. The author has
found in them a strong resemblance to the Hebrew music, sounds which,
since the captivity of the Jews in Babylon, and the destruction of their
temple, 606 B.C., and in consequence of musical instruments being
afterwards forbidden, they have clung to with increased tenacity,
preserving their ancient melodies, and bequeathing them by memory from
one generation to another with the same jealous care that a miser would
his treasure, and as the last melancholy relics of a "kingdom passed
away."

Algarotti says, "Those airs alone remain for ever engraven on the memory
of the public, that paint images to the mind, or express the passions,
and are f