She stretches out her arms to the sun and acclaims the growing orb.

As once upon Ida-- Glad earth perceives and from her bosom pours Unbidden herbs and voluntary flow'rs! A field of blossoms spreads around her, into which she sinks, while the sun, again many-voiced and articulate, chants his glory as in the beginning.
The story is perhaps prettier in the telling than in the performance.
What there is in its symbolism and its poetical suggestion that is ingratiating is more effective in the fancy than in the experience.
There are fewer clogs, fewer stagnant pools, fewer eddies which whirl to no purpose.

In the modern school, with its distemper music put on in splotches, there must be more merit and action.

Psychological delineation in music which stimulates action, or makes one forget the want of outward movement, demands a different order of genius than that which Signor Mascagni possesses.

Mere talent for artful device will not suffice.