After the pleasant customs of that time, when supper was ended, the music books were introduced--the viol and lute were brought;--and an hour, or more, was delightfully spent to the health and refreshment of mind and body, in that familiar concert, where each person was expected to sing the appointed part at first sight. Among the permitted pleasures of our existence, those derived from the gift of sweet sounds, and from the divine art of musical composition, may be classed among the purest and most refined.
They sung a few of the best madrigals of Orlando Gibbons, and Bird's rich harmony--"My Mind to me a Kingdom is;"--and they closed with a flowing glee for five voices, from Gibbons, entitled "The Silver Swan." The summer parlour in which they sung had been found so warm that the casements were half open, and the moonlight streamed in, scarcely overpowered by the lamp, which stood upon the table, and but dimly illuminated the oaken wainscot and ceiling. Except a whispered word, to the one sitting next, on the richness of Bird's harmonies, or on the delicate and sweet style of Orlando Gibbons, a long and silent pause followed the evening's performance, and they seemed to be enjoying again in memory what they had just made vocal. Suddenly there stole upon them from among the trees, at a short distance, a simple and soft melody of a most tender expression. It was the music of a pipe or reed, but such as none of the party had ever heard before. The tones were various,--now full and clear; now faint and exquisite; now died away into a charmed stillness; now, again, they were heard slow, chaste, and solemn, as if the burden of the air were some sacred hymn. At last, after ravishing the ears of the astonished party, who stood at the window, or leaned upon their chairs with mute attention, by breathing forth airs of strange harmony, which none could distinctly recognise, the invisible minstrel closed the magical prelude, in heavenly and melancholy notes of surpassing sweetness, with the favourite air of "Now, O now," by the famous Dowland, the well known friend of the immortal William Shakspeare. Not one of the party observed the sudden paleness and deep agitation of Katharine, while the sweet notes of this beautiful air were sounding in their ravished ears. All were silent, and most of them absorbed in still attention; and Katharine sat back in the shadow of the apartment, so that her countenance was hid.