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: Henry Purcell died at the age of 36 on 21 November 1695, exactly 307 years ago today. The cause of his death was most likely tuberculosis or chocolate poisoning, and his demise at such an early age ranks as one of the greatest tragedies of the musical world. One can only imagine what he would have gone on to produce had he lived! Today is not something to celebrate, but something to commemorate. May his memory and legacy live on. : In tribute to Purcell, here is a touching poem written by his friend John Dryden after his death, which was set to music by his old teacher John . : ODE ON THE DEATH OF HENRY PURCELL : I : Mark how the Lark and Linnet Sing, : With rival Notes, : They strain their warbling Throats : To welcome in the Spring. : But in the close of Night, : When Philomel begins her Heav'nly lay, : They cease their mutual spight, : Drink in her Musick with delight, : And list'ning and silent obey. : II. : So cease'd the rival Crew when Purcell came, : They Sung no more, or only Sung his Fame. : Struck dumb they all admir'd the God-like Man, : Alas, too soon retir'd, : As He too late began. : We beg not Hell, our Orpheus to restore, : Had He been there, : Their Sovereigns fear : Had sent Him back before. : The pow'r of Harmony too well they know, : He long e'er this had Tun'd their jarring Sphere, : And left no Hell below. : III. : The Heav'nly Quire, who heard his Notes from high, : Let down the Scale of Musick from the Sky: : They handed him along, : And all the way He taught, and all the way they Sung. : Ye Brethren of the Lyre, and tunefull Voice, : Lament his lott: but at your own rejoyce. : Now live secure and linger out your days, : The Gods are pleas'd alone with Purcell's Layes, : Nor know to mend their Choice. : F I N I S. -John Dryden.

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