in a stormy maze. It is all, too, like noisy preparation,--a manoeuvring
of forces before the battle. Three distinct figures there are before a
blast of horn in slower notes, answered by shrill call in highest wood.
There enters a regular, rhythmic gait and a clearer tune, suggested by
the call.

[Music: (Horns, oboes and 1st violins, G string)
(Strings and wood)
(Tuba and strings)
(Second violins)]

In the brilliant medley there is ever a new figure we had not perceived.
So when the tune has been told, trumpets and horns begin with what seems
almost the main air, and the former voices sound like mere heralds.
Finally the deep trombones and tuba enter with a sonorous call. Yet the
first rapid trip of all has the main legend.

As the quicker figures gradually retire, a change of pace appears, to
the tramp of funeral. Yet the initial and incident strains are of the
former text. Out of it weaves the new, slower melody:

[Music: _Much slower_ (in the tempo of the former funeral march)
(Oboes)
(Flutes and clarinets)
(Cellos)
_molto cantando_]

Throughout, the old shrill call sounds in soft lament. Hardly like a
tune, a discourse rather, it winds along, growing and changing naively
ever to a new phrase. And the soft calls about seem part of the melody.
An expressive line rising in the clarinet harks back to one of the later
strains of the funeral march.

The second melody or answer (in low octaves of strings) is a scant
disguise of the lower tune in the stormy duet of the first movement. Yet
all the strains move in the gentle, soothing pace and mood until
suddenly awakened to the first vehement rhythm.

Before the slower verse returns is a long plaint of cellos to softest
roll of drums. The gentle calls that usher in the melody have a
significant turn, upwards instead of down. All the figures of the solemn
episode appear more clearly.

On the spur of the hurrying main motive of trumpets the first pace is
once more regained.

A surprise of plot is before us. In sudden recurrence of funeral march
the hymnal song of the first movement is heard. As suddenly, we are
plunged into the first joyful scene of the symphony. Here it is most
striking how the call of lament has become triumphant, as it seems
without a change of note. And still more wonderful,--the same melody
that first uttered a storm of grief, then a gentle sadness, now has a
firm exultant ring. To be sure, it is all done with the magic trip of
bass,--as