The man that hath no music in himself,
Nor is not mov'd with concord of sweet sounds,
Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils;
The motions of his spirit are dull as night,
And his affections dark as Erebus:
Let no such man be trusted.
SHAKS.: _M. of Venice,_ Act v., Sc. 1.
Music's golden tongue
Flatter'd to tears this aged man and poor.
KEATS: _Eve of St. Agnes,_ St. 3.
Music has charms to soothe the savage breast,
To soften rocks, or bend the knotted oak;
I've read that things inanimate have mov'd,
And, as with living souls, have been inform'd,
By magic numbers and persuasive sound.
CONGREVE: _Mourning Bride,_ Act i., Sc. 1.
Music the fiercest grief can charm,
And fate's severest rage disarm.
Music can soften pain to ease,
And make despair and madness please;
Our joys below it can improve,
And antedate the bliss above.
POPE: _Ode on St. Cecilia's Day,_ St. 7.
When Music, heavenly maid, was young,
While yet in early Greece she sung,
The Passions oft, to hear her shell,
Throng'd around her magic cell,
Exulting, trembling, raging, fainting,
Possest beyond the Muse's painting.
COLLINS: _The Passions,_ Line 1.
The soul of music slumbers in the shell,
Till wak'd and kindled by the master's spell,
And feeling hearts--touch them but rightly--pour
A thousand melodies unheard before.
ROGERS: _Human Life,_ Line 362.
A few can touch the magic string,
And noisy Fame is proud to win them;
Alas for those that never sing,
But die with all their music in them!
OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES: _The Voiceless._