Beruflich Dokumente
Kultur Dokumente
Known
as
the
Early
Journal
Content,
this
set
of
works
include
research
articles,
news,
letters,
and
other
writings
published
in
more
than
200
of
the
oldest
leading
academic
journals.
The
works
date
from
the
mid-seventeenth
to
the
early
twentieth
centuries.
We
encourage
people
to
read
and
share
the
Early
Journal
Content
openly
and
to
tell
others
that
this
resource
exists.
People
may
post
this
content
online
or
redistribute
in
any
way
for
non-commercial
purposes.
JSTOR
is
a
digital
library
of
academic
journals,
books,
and
primary
source
objects.
JSTOR
helps
people
discover,
use,
and
build
upon
a
wide
range
of
content
through
a
powerful
research
and
teaching
platform,
and
preserves
this
content
for
future
generations.
JSTOR
is
part
of
ITHAKA,
a
not-for-profit
organization
that
also
includes
Ithaka
S+R
and
Portico.
For
more
information
about
JSTOR,
please
contact
support@jstor.org.
164 On Song Writing. [March.
As I have been attemptingto draw methodically, my time would not be
a hasty sketch of national manners, totally wasted. I know not yet in
I shall add another trait in which what particularAs methodI may arrange
I thinkthe English have the advantage them, the, present letter 6nly
over my countrymen, in not indul- contain a few general observationson
can.
ging so freely in the excesses of the such as happenedparticularlyto occur
table after dinner. In general they to my memory; but if I have leisure
vre more sober. A literary or to pursuethis subject, I promiseyou
Thoral subject is seldom introduced somethinglike methodin My handling
into conversationafter dinner in Ire- the theoryandpracticeof song-writing.
land, yet it is common in England; In love songs,whichI shallconsiderfirst,
where if they have less conviviality, seems to be 'anestablishedrule with it
and what is erroneouslycalled good the writers of them to steer as clear
fellowship, they have more rationalityr as possiblefrom commonsense, indeed
and literary taste, as I have expert- there-is but little robm for this pro-
enced on many occasions during my perty in the brains of a love sick
occasional visits to that country. To He takes leave of the present
Poet._ and flies to the regions of fancy,
this cause I attributethe greate'rde- world
gree of intellectualilnprovement,ma- where he seeks no other guide, and
nifested among many ofthe mercan, wishes for no other resting placethan
tile class in England. Some of them Rhime. Confident that the music
are very
deeply, engagedin business; master will hide all his failings and
and yet they find time 'for literary cover all his defects with quaversand
pursuits. The time gainedfromundue crotchets, he violates every rule of
indulgences of the table is given to propriety, every law: of providence,
reading and other means of improve- and distorts every image of nature.
ment withoutencroachingon business. He walks upon stilts,' and although
ThiS is a more rationalentertainment perhapsno methodisttalks more fami-
than the noisy contests of politics, liarly of heaven and hell, complains
and the news of the day, or talk of heavilyof sufferingthe torments of the
the technicalroutineof trade generally latter, and is ever, but in vain, by his
occupying that portion of the con- own account, solicitingthe blessedness
versationwhich is sparedin manycon- of the former.
vivial companies fromdogsand horses, The language of love songs is pro-
where the language and mannersof fusely metaphorical;the mistressis gen-
jockeys and groomsare well imitated. erally a monstroushumanbeing, armed
Noisy companies are too common with darts, flames and tormenting
in all countries, but- I am inclined engines, and the aim of the Poet is,
to think that on settling the account, to disarmher of those deadly weapons.
the balance in favour of sobriety and The followingis a small specimen of
rationality lies with our neighbours, the true metaphorical:
and that our mannerswould be im-
With her I Couldfor ever dwell,
proved in.an imitation of their more ,' There's haven within her arms;
prudent plan. K. But absent from her I'm in hell,
Dire g ief my soul alarms:
Tothe Editor of the BelfastMagazine. I rave, I burn, I pine, I die,
Nought can my. heart relieve,
ON SONG WRITING. But at her sight my sorrowsfly,
SIR3
Her presence bids me live."