AN ODE ON ST. CAECILIA'S DAY,

Adapted to the antient British music, viz. the salt-box, the Jew's harp, the marrow-bones and cleavers, the hum-strum or hurdy-gurdy, &c. as it was performed on June 10, 1763, at Ranelagh.

BY BONNEL THORNTON, ESQ.

PART I.

RECITATIVE Accompanied.

BE dumb, be dumb, ye inharmonious sounds,
 And music, that the astonish'd with discord wounds:
 No more let common rhymes prophane the day. 

GRAND CHORUS.

Grac'd with divine Caecilia's name;
 Let solemn hymns this aweful feast proclaim,
 And heavenly notes conspire to raise the heav'nly lay. 

RECIT. Accompanied.

The meanor melody we scorn,
 Which vulgar instruments afford;
 Shrill flute, sharp fiddle, bellowing horn,
 Rumbling bassoon, or tinkling harpsichord. 

AIR.

In strains more exalted the salt-box shall join,
 And clattering, and battering, and clapping combine,
 With a rap and a tap while the hollow side sounds,
 Up and down leaps the flap, and with rattling rebounds. 

RECITATIVE.

Strike, strike the soft Judaic harp,
 Soft and sharp,
 By teeth coercive in firm durance kept,
 And lightly by the volant finger swept. 

AIR.

Buzzing twangs the iron lyre,
 Shrilly thrilling,
 Trembling, thrilling. 
Whizzing with the wav'ring wire. 

A GRAND SYMPHONY.

AIR.

Hark, how the banging marrow-bones
 Make clanging cleavers ring,
 With a ding dong, ding dong,
 Ding dong, ding dong,
 Ding dong, ding dong, ding dong, ding. 
Raise your uplifted arms on high;
 In long-prolonged tones
 Let cleavers sound
 A merry merry round
 By banging marrow-bones. 

FULL CHORUS.

Hark, how the banging marrow-bones
 Make clanging cleavers ring;
 With a ding dong, ding dong,
 Ding dong, ding dong,
 Ding dong, ding dong, ding dong, ding. 
Raise your uplifted arms on high;
 In long-prolonged tones
 Let cleavers sound
 A merry merry round
 By banging marrow-bones. 

RECIT. Accompanied.

Cease lighter numbers: Hither bring
 The undulating string
 Stretch'd out, and to the tumid bladder
 In amity harmonious bound;
 Then deeper swell the notes and sadder,
 And let the hoarse bass slowly solemn sound. 

AIR.

With dead, dull, doleful, heavy hums,
 With mournful moans,
 And grievous groans,
 The sober hurdy-gurdy thrums. 

PART II.

RECIT. Accompanied.

WITH magic sounds, like these, did Orpheus' lyre
 Motion, sense, and life inspire;
 When, as he play'd, the list'ning flood
 Still'd its loquacious waves, and silent stood;
 The trees swift-bounding danc'd with loosen'd stumps,
 And sluggish stones caper'd in active jumps. 

AIR.

Each ruddy-breasted robin
 The concert bore a bob in,
 And ev'ry hooting owl around;
 The croaking frogs,
 The grunting hogs,
 All, all conspir'd to raise th' enliv'ning found. 

RECITATIVE.

Now to Caecilia, heav'nly maid,
 Your loud united voices raise,
 With solemn hymns to celebrate her praise,
 Each instrument shall lend its aid. 
The salt-box with clattering and clapping shall sound,
 The iron lyre
 Buzzing twang with wav'ring wire,
 With heavy hum
 The sober hurdy-gurdy thrum,
 And the merry merry marrow-bones ring round. 

LAST GRAND CHORUS.

Such matchless strains Caecilia knew,
 When audience from their heav'nly sphere,
 By harmony's strong pow'r, she drew,
 Whilst list'ning angels gladly stoop'd to hear.