n lacked
steadiness, lacked penetration--or it may be that the vision was
present, but not the power of notation. In the Goethe paraphrases, on
the other hand, we are given, in a measure, the sense of the thing
perceived; I say "in a measure," for his power of acute and
sympathetic observation and of eloquent transmutation had not yet come
to its highest pitch. Of the six "Idyls," three--"In the Woods,"
"Siesta," and "To the Moonlight"--are memorable, though uneven; and of
these the third, after Goethe's "An den Mond," adumbrates faintly
MacDowell's riper manner. The "Silver Clouds," "Flute Idyl,"[11] and
"Blue Bell" are decidedly less characteristic.

[11] The poems which suggested this and the preceding piece were used
again by MacDowell in two of the most admirable of the "Eight Songs,"
op. 47.

His third orchestral work, the symphonic poem "Lamia," is based upon
the fantastic (and what Mr. Howells would call unconscionably
"romanticistic") poem of Keats. Begun during his last year in
Wiesbaden (1888), and completed the following winter in Boston, it
stands, in the order of MacDowell's orchestral pieces, between
"Lancelot and Elaine" and the two "fragments" after the "Song of
Roland." On a fly-leaf of the score MacDowell has written this
glossary of the story as told by Keats:

"Lamia, an enchantress in the form of a serpent, loves Lycius, a
young Corinthian. In order to win him she prays to Hermes, who
answers her appeal by transforming her into a lovely maiden.
Lycius meets her in the wood, is smitten with love for her, and
goes with her to her enchanted palace, where the wedding is
celebrated with great splendour. But suddenly Apollonius appears;
he reveals the magic. Lamia again assumes the form of a serpent,
the enchanted palace vanishes, and Lycius is found lifeless."

Now this is obviously just the sort of thing to stir the musical
imagination of a young composer nourished on Liszt, Raff, and Wagner;
and MacDowell (he was then in his twenty-seventh year) composed his
tone-poem with evident gusto. Yet it is the weakest of his orchestral
works--the weakest and the least characteristic. There is much Liszt
in the score, and a good deal of Wagner. Only occasionally--as in the
_pianissimo_ passage for flutes, clarinets, and divided strings,
following the first outburst of the full orchestra--does his own
individuality emerge with any positiveness. MacDowell withheld the
score f