"Whose Titan angels, Gabriel, Abdiel,
Starr'd from Jehovah's gorgeous armouries,
Tower, as the deep-domed empyrean
Rings to the roar of an angel onset."
But then—
"Me rather all that bowery loveliness,
The brooks of Eden mazily murmuring,
And bloom profuse and cedar arches
Charm, as a wanderer out in ocean,"
"Where some refulgent sunset of India
Streams o'er a rich ambrosial ocean isle,
And, crimson-hued, the stately palm-woods
Whisper, in odorous heights, of even."
Then we have a strain which seems to anticipate Schumann himself, the greatest symphonist after Beethoven—a singular repose, of almost unearthly loveliness, after the high commotion.
A little later, and ecco! a new idea:—
exquisite in its lightness and strength (like a giant at play, or a river disporting in its banks); and thereupon, after bold progressions, six remarkable iterations—also like "So Fate knocketh at the portals!" or like blow after blow of virtuous resolutions; where all is characteristic, this is strikingly so. Then follows another of his ineffable thoughts (supremely); and then, after another whirl of the sacred fury, which seems to be the soul of this unexampled movement, we are brought back to the original subject, which re-enters in its own colossal continence; and these truly "stupendi pagine" (and not those about Goethe's Frederika of Sessenheim, in his "Autobiography,") are repeated. The second part, or elaboration (as it is called) is likewise, and par excellence, stupendous, especially the part before adverted to, in A and E minor. Here, truly, the music quite transcends ordinary language and thought; to bring ideas worthy to it, we must recur to Him who cried "Lama, Lama, Eli Sabbacthani!" This is the anguish of a Redeemer-soul. But to such, also, is the victory; and to such the Father sendeth legions of angels. See, also, especially the passage further on, in G flat (should it not be andante?)—which, as it were, almost overcomes us with enchantment. Here, methinks, the Invisible Auxiliaries already bear the poor shell, and whisper at the same time a word of comfort to the Mother—whom no Power strikes into stone, like Niobe.