In
its answer we have again the weird touch of neo-barbarism in a strain of
the reed, with dancing overtones of violins and harp, and strumming
chords on lower strings. Or is there a hint of ancient Highland in the
drone of alternating horns and bassoons?

Its brief verse is answered by a fervent conclusive line where soon the
old lilting refrain appears with new tricks and a big celebration of its
own and then of the whole madrigal of martial melody. It simmers down
with whims and turns of the skipping phrase into the quiet
(_tranquillo_) episode in the midst of the other stress.

[Music: (With lower 8ve.)
_Tranquillo_
(With _pizz._ quarter notes in basses and strings)]

The heart of the song is in the horns, with an upper air in the wood,
while low strings guard a gentle rhythm. A brief strain in the wind in
ardent temper is followed by another in the strings, and still a third
in joint strings and wood. (Again we must rejoice in the achievement of
true, simple, sincere melody.) The final glowing height is reached in
all the choirs together,--final that is before the brass is added with
a broader pace, that leads to the moving climax. As the horns had
preluding chords to the whole song, so a single horn sings a kind of
epilogue amid harmony of strings and other horns. Slowly a more vigorous
pulse is stirred, in an interlude of retorting trumpets.

Suddenly in the full energy of the beginning the whole main subject
sounds again, with the jolly lilt dancing through all its measures,
which are none too many. The foil of gentle melody returns with its
answer of eerie tune and harmonies. It seems as if the poet, after his
rude jest, wanted, half in amends, half on pure impulse, to utter a
strain of true fancy in the strange new idiom.

A new, grateful sound has again the big conclusive phrase that merges
into more pranks of the jaunty tune in the biggest revel of all, so that
we suspect the jolly jester is the real hero and the majestic figures
are, after all, mere background. And yet here follows the most tenderly
moving verse, all unexpected, of the quiet episode.

The end is a pure romp, _molto vivace_, mainly on the skipping phrase.
To be sure the stately figures after a festive height march in big,
lengthened pace; but so does the jolly tune, as though in mockery. He
breaks into his old rattling pace (in the Glockenspiel) when all the
figures appear together,--the big ones changing places just before the
end,