[Footnote A:  The English verses are taken for the most part from the translation of F. Corder.]

The original Allegro agitato in broad 6/4 time (aptly suggestive of the unbridled motion) grows

[Music:  (In brass and strings with lower 8ve.) (With constant clattering higher strings and chord of low wind on the middle beat)]

more rapid into an alla breve pace (in two beats), with dazzling maze of lesser rhythms.  Throughout the work a song of primeval strain prevails.  Here and there a tinge of foreshadowing pain appears, as the song sounds on high, espressivo dolente.  But the fervor and fury of movement is undiminished.  The brief touch of pathos soon merges in the general heroic mood.  Later, the whole motion ceases, “the horse sinks and dies,” and now an interlude sings a pure plaint (in the strain of the main motive).  Then, Allegro, the martial note clangs in stirring trumpet and breaks into formal song of war, Allegro marziale.

[Music:  (Brass and strings) Allegro marziale (With lower 8ve.)]

In the wake of this song, with a relentless trip and tramp of warrior hordes, is the real clash and jingle of the battle, where the sparkling thrill of strings and the saucy counter theme are strong elements in the stirring beauty.

There is a touch here of the old Goth, or rather the Hun, nearer akin to the composer’s race.

At the height rings out the main tune of yore, transformed in triumphant majesty.

The musical design embraces various phases.  First is the clear rhythmic sense of the ride.  We think of other instances like Schubert’s “Erl-King” or the ghostly ride in Raff’s “Lenore” Symphony.

The degree of vivid description must vary, not only with the composer, but with the hearer.  The greatest masters have yielded to the variety of the actual graphic touch.  And, too, there are always interpreters who find it, even if it was never intended.  Thus it is common to hear at the very beginning of the “Mazeppa” music the cry that goes up as starts the flight.

We are of course entitled, if we prefer, to feel the poetry rather than the picture.  Finally it is probably true that such a poetic design is not marred merely because there is here or there a trick of onomatopoeia; if it is permitted in poetry, why not in music?  It may be no more than a spur to the fancy, a quick conjuring of the association.

HUNNENSCHLACHT—­“THE BATTLE OF THE HUNS"

Liszt’s symphonic poem, “Hunnenschlacht,” one of the last of his works in this form, completed in 1857, was directly inspired by the picture of the German painter, Wilhelm Kaulbach, which represents the legend of the aerial battle between the spirits of the Romans and Huns who had fallen outside of the walls of Rome.[A]

[Footnote A:  A description of the picture is cited by Lawrence Gilman in his book, “Stories of Symphonic Music,” as follows: