enly in rushes the first reel, softly as at first; but
over it sings still the new sad tune, then yields to the wild whims and
pranks that lead to the war-song in resonant chorus, joined at the
height by the reel below. They change places, the tune ringing in the
bass. In the martial tumult the tinkling air is likewise infected with
saucy vigor, but suddenly retires abashed into its shell of fairy sound,
and over it sings the elegy in various choirs. The tinkling melody falls
suddenly into a new flow of moving song, rising to pure lyric fervor.
The soft air has somehow the main say, has reached the high point, has
touched the heart of the movement. Expressively it slowly sinks away
amid echoing phrases and yields to the duet of elegy and the first reel.
But a new spirit has appeared. The sting of war-song is gone. And here
is the reel in slow reluctant pace. After another verse of the fairy
tune, the jig plays still slower, while above sings a new melody. Still
slower the jig has fallen almost to funeral pace, has grown to a new
song of its own, though, to be sure, brief reminders of the first dance
jingle softly here and there. And now the (hushed) shadow of the
war-song in quite slower gait strides in lowest basses and passes
quietly straight into the Adagio.

[Music: (Strings with lower reeds and horns)
_Adagio_
_cantabile_]

_III._--Assured peace is in the simple sincere melody, rising to a glow
of passion. But--is this a jest of our poet? Or rather now we see why
there was no halt at the end of the Scherzo. For the soothing melody is
in the very notes of the impish reel,--is the same tune.[A] Suddenly
hushing, the song hangs on high over delicate minor harmonies.

[Footnote A: There seems to be shown in this feat at once the
versatility of music as well as the musician in expressing opposite
moods by the same theme. The author does not feel bound to trace all
such analogies, as in the too close pursuit we may lose the forest in
the jungle.]

In exquisite hues an intimate dialogue ensues, almost too personal for
the epic vein, a discourse or madrigal of finest fibre that breaks (like
rays of setting sun) into a melting cadence of regret. We are doubly
thrilled in harking back to the sweet, wistful romance, the strain of
the first movement.

[Music: (Harp, wood and strings)]

Across the gauzy play, horns and wood blow a slow phrase, like a motto
of Fate in the sombre harmony, with one ardent burst of pleading