The man that hath no music in himself, Nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds, Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils; The motions of his spirits are dull as night, And his affections dark as Erebus: Let no such man be trusted. Shakespeare.Merchant of Venice, Act V. Scene 1. (Lorenzo to Jessica.)
If music be the food of love, play on, Give me excess of it; that surfeiting, The appetite may sicken, and so die. That strain again;it had a dying fall: O, it came oer my ear like the sweet sound That breathes upon a bank of violets, Stealing and giving odour. Shakespeare.Twelfth Night, Act I. Scene 1.
[Poe says he met with this idea in an old English tale which he was unable to obtain, and quoted from memory:The verie essence, and, as it were, springeheade and origine of all music, is the very pleasaunte sounde which the trees of the forest do make when they growe.]
Theres music in the dawning morn, Theres music on the twilight cloud, Theres music in the depth of night, When the world is still and dim, And the stars flame out in the pomp of light, Like thrones of the cherubim! Hone.Everyday Book, Vol. I. Page 1142, Verse 9.
Where gripinge grefes the hart would wounde, And dolefulle dumps the mynd oppresse, There musicke with her silver-sound With spede is wont to send redress: Of troubled mynds, in every sore, Swete musicke hath a salve in store. Richard Edwards.1 Percy Reliques, Book II. Page 199.