THE OLD VIOLIN.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XIV, Issue III, 19 January 1895, Page 56

THE OLD VIOLIN.

(ANTON. STRADIUARIUS CREMONENSIS. FACIEBAT ANNO, 1704.)

It boasts a peerless colour, dried By suns of Southern lands, As fair as when, a thing of pride. It left the master’s hands ; For jealous time forgets and fears That velvet sheen to tarnish, That mystery guarded through the years Of Stradivarius varnish. Music that once across it swept To-day about it clings, The threnodies of souls that wept Their grief above the strings ; And bonrs of passionate appeal So gift it with sensation That such as lift it now may feel A thrill of sad vibration. And still it wakes the note of strife, Of gladness or distress, Playing on hidden chords of Life That words may not express : Some strange desire, some vague delight. That sets the sonl a-wondering, As when men hear throughout the night The restless ocean thundering. Surely our wondrons modern wit Hath something yet to learn, Though progress leap to welcome it At each triumphant tnrn. Something, while that frail pinewood toy Lies there npon the table, And dims onr brilliance to alloy With yonder dusty label.

Alfred Cochrane.