inty "Tell me where
is fancy bred."

"The Lark" is written in the pentatonic scale, with accompaniment for
two flutes and a harp.

In the same vein are various songs of Herrick, a lyrist whose verse
is not usually congenial to the modern music-maker. Loomis' "Epitaph
on a Virgin" must be classed as a success. Indeed, it reaches positive
grandeur at its climax, wherein is woven the grim persistence of a
tolling bell. In the same style is a clever setting of Ben Jonson's
much music'd "To Celia."

In German-tone are his veritably magnificent "Herbstnacht" and his "At
Midnight," two studies after Franz. Heine's "Des Waldes Kapellmeister"
has been made into a most hilarious humoresque.

"Bergerie" is a dozen of Norman Gale's lyrics. "Andalusia" is a
flamboyant duet.

In Scotch songs there is a positive embarrassment of riches, Loomis'
fancies finding especial food and freedom in this school. I find in
these settings far more art and grace than I see even in Schumann's
many Scotch songs, or those of any other of the Germans. "Oh, for Ane
and Twenty" has bagpipe effects. Such flights of ecstasy as "My Wife's
a Winsome Wee Thing," and "Bonnie Wee Thing," are simply tyrannical in
their appeal. Then there is an irresistible "Polly Stewart;" and "My
Peggy's Heart" is fairly ambrosial. These and several others, like
"There Was a Bonnie Lass," could be made into an album of songs that
would delight a whole suite of generations.

A number of his songs are published: they include a "John Anderson, My
Jo," that has no particular right to live; a ballad, "Molly," with a
touch of art tucked into it; the beautiful "Sylvan Slumbers," and the
quaint and fascinating "Dutch Garden."

Aside from an occasional song like "Thistledown," with its brilliantly
fleecy accompaniment, and the setting of Browning's famous "The Year'
at the Spring," for which Loomis has struck out a superb frenzy, and a
group of songs by John Vance Cheney, Loomis has found some of his most
powerful inspirations in the work of our lyrist, Aldrich,--such as
the rich carillon of "Wedded," and his "Discipline," one of the best
of all humorous songs, a gruesome scherzo all about dead monks, in
which the music furnishes out the grim irreverence of the words with
the utmost waggery.

Chief among the lyrics by Cheney are three "Spring Songs," in which
Loomis has caught the zest of spring with such rapture that, once they
are heard, the world seems poor without them in