takes its form as well from some detail of the principal strain. But it must furnish the element of diversity, of contrast. The single-period form establishes the fundamental principle of oneness, of unity. The double period form contributes the principle of diversity. This arrangement of contrasting periods is known to musicians as binary form and, in the hands of the great composers, it has shown remarkable power of expression. To the primitive Irish singers it must have seemed like the discovery of a new world. Moods might change and passion deepen, but the melody would tell the tale as well as the words. Perfectly simple examples of two-period form are rare. Generally speaking, one period or the other is repeated, sometimes both. But a few songs have come down to us which consist solely of two periods, uncomplicated by repetition. "The Cruiskeen Lawn" is one of them. It opens with a period of ten bars. The second part of the song is an abbreviated period of six bars, to which the chorus is sung. Another fine example of binary form is the air "The Red Fox," for which Moore wrote "Let Erin Remember." But though this discovery of binary form opened up a new world of possibilities to the musicians of Erin, it did not make them master of that world. The disadvantage of the two-period form lay in its lack of conclusiveness. It seems as though the singer had started off on a musical excursion, struck out along a new path, and forgotten the way home. In securing that feeling of contrast without which there can be no musical progress, the early singers lost something of their hold on the principle of unity. It is to the everlasting credit of the Irish that, first of all musical peoples, they developed the means of reconciling these divergent principles and, in so doing, opened up avenues of musical development which made possible the work of a Beethoven and a Wagner. The device is simplicity itself, but it is the simplicity of Columbus' egg. It consists in a return to the primary idea or theme after the section of contrast. In this way a composition may be a unity and yet contain within itself the element of contrast. The credit of the flash of theoretic genius is given to Carrol O'Daly, who lived in the latter part of the fourteenth century, and the song in which he gave definite expression to it is "Eileen Aroon." The air is easy of analysis and its structure, once understood-an easy matter-will give the reader a key to the appreciation, in essentials, of the highest forms of musical composition. The song consists of three parts. The first is a period made up of a phrase twice repeated, to which the following words are set: I'll love thee evermore, Eileen a roon! I'll bless thee o'er and o'er Eileen a roon! Then comes the constrasting section, which consists of four bars of melody markedly different in character from what preceded it. This section accompanies the words: Oh! for thy sake I'll tread Where plains of Mayo spread, The end of this section, as will be felt by anyone who sings or plays it over, does not convey the impression of finality. On the contrary it awakens the desire for a sequel. Consequently the return to the primary theme, which constitutes the third part of the song, is all the more grateful. But it will be noticed that O'Daly did not confine himself to any mere textual repetition. He was too good a musi cian for that. Having established the identity of the third part with the first, he gives the melody freedom. Even in determining the oneness of the song, he enriches its diversity. The words of this concluding section are: By hope still fondly led, Eileen a roon. Among theorists the plan on which this miniature musical edifice is built is known as ternary form or three-part song form. There is a lapse of a century or more after the composition of this tune before continental Europe made satisfactory use of Ireland's discovery, and it would be churlishness to refuse her the credit of this greatest achievement in the evolution of musical form. All Irish melodies have not the formal simplicity of the examples quoted in the present chapter, however, and some of the airs chosen to illustrate the growth of tonality will indicate the lines along which developments of form may be looked for. "The Last Rose," for example, exactly parallels the construction of "Eileen a roon." It consists of three parts, the third being a confirmation of the first. The first part is a period, consisting of a phrase of four bars sung twice. The words to this section of the tune are: "Tis the last rose of summer, Left blooming alone; All her lovely companions Are faded and gone. The element of contrast is a phrase of four bars which even the untrained ear will recognize as lacking in the element of finality. It is set to the lines: No flower of her kindred, No rosebud is nigh, The germinal part of the melody, the principal subject, as it would be called in a sonata or symphony, recurs with the words To reflect back her blushes, To give sigh for sigh. "My Love's an Arbutus" also embodies the tripartite idea. Here the principal strain is an abbreviated period of four bars, set to the verse My Love's an Arbutus By the borders of Lene. It does not need the learning of a musician to recognize the completeness of this theme. Moreover, that outstanding feature of Irish melody, the thricerepeated terminal note, emphasizes the idea of conclusion. The contrasting section is the same length as the principal strain; but it differs from that member in being repeated. On its second appearance, however, it is gracefully varied. This twice-sung phrase has the following words: So slender and shapely |