A SONG FOR ST. CECILIA'S DAY.

ROM harmony, from heavenly harmony,

This universal frame began.

When Nature underneath a heap

Of jarring atoms lay,

And could not heave her head,

The tuneful voice was heard from high,

Arise, ye more than dead!

Then cold and hot, and moist and dry,

In order to their stations leap,

And music's power obey.

From harmony, from heavenly harmony,

This universal frame began:

From harmony to harmony,

Through all the compass of the notes it ran,

The diapason closing full in man.

O Miserere mine!

WHEN the heathen trumpet's clang

Round beleaguer'd Chester rang,
Veiled nun and friar grey

March'd from Bangor's fair abbaye.
High their holy anthem sounds,
Cestria's vale the hymn rebounds,
Floating down the sylvan Dee,
O miserere Domine!

On the long procession goes,
Glory round their crosses glows;
And the Virgin-mother mild
In their peaceful banner smiled.
Who could think such saintly band
Doom'd to feel unhallow'd hand?
Such was the divine decree,

O miserere Domine!

Bands that masses only sung,
Hands that censers only swung,
Met the northern bow and bill,
Heard the war-cry, wild and shrill :
Woe to Brockmael's feeble hand,
Woe to Olfrid's bloody brand,
Woe to Saxon cruelty,

O miserere Domine!

Weltering amid warriors slain,
Spurn'd by steeds with bloody mane,
Slaughter'd down by heathen blade,
Bangor's peaceful monks are laid.
Word of parting rest unspoke,
Mass unsung, and bread unbroke;
For their souls, for charity,

Sing miserere Domine!

Bangor! o'er the murder wail,
Long thy ruins told the tale;
Shatter'd tower and broken arch
Long recall'd the woeful march.
On thy shrine no tapers burn,
Never shall thy priests return;
The pilgrim sighs and sings for thee,
O miserere Domine!

SIR WALTER SCOTT.

PRINTED BY PETTER AND GALPIN, BELLE SAUVAGE WORKS, LUDGATE HILL, E. C.