Can fill the whole rich element;—
And, in such moods, the homeliest tune
That’s linked with feelings, once our own,—
With friends or joys gone by—will be
Worth choirs of loftiest harmony!
‘The Romaika,’ composed by Mr. Moore, is a lively air, supposed to be sung to the accompaniment of the balalaika, a rude Russian instrument, a kind of guitar with only two strings. This is pretty, and, if sung characteristically, will be more generally effective than better music.
Now the Zian maids grow playful, and putting themselves in martial array, sing ‘The War Dance,’ a trio by Mr. Bishop; though we are not told where they found a Grecian lady with a base voice to take the lowest part. This, however, does not matter: the composition is animating, is good, and not difficult. But why does Mr. Bishop so frequently treat the rules of prosody with such apparent contempt?—He must be aware that making the last syllable in the word ‘victory’ long, is not to be vindicated; yet he thus sets it:—
