As the dream sinks slowly away, the stern motto is buried in quick flashes of the tempting call.  These are mere visions; now comes the scene itself of temptation.

To ripples of harp the reed sings enchantingly in swaying rhythm; other groups in new surprise of

[Music:  (Flutes, oboe, clarinets and harp)]

scene usurp the melody with the languishing answer, until one Siren breaks into an impassioned burst, while her sisters hold the dance.

Straight upon her vanished echoes shrieks the shrill pipe of war, with trembling drum.  We hear a yearning sigh of the Siren strain before it is swept away in the tide and tumult of strife.  Beneath the whirl and motion, the flash and crash of arms, we have glimpses of the heroic figure.

Here is a strange lay in the fierce chorus of battle-cries:  the Siren song in bright insistence, changed to the rushing pace of war.

The scene ends in a crash.  Loud sings a solemn phrase; do we catch an edge of wistful regret?  Now returns the sturdy course of the main heroic melody; only it is slower (Andante sostenuto), and the high stress of cadence is solemnly impassioned.

As if to atone for the slower pace, the theme strikes into a lively fugue, with trembling strings (Allegro animato).

There is an air of achievement in the relentless progress and the insistent recurrence of the masterful motive.  An episode there is of mere striving and straining, before the theme resumes its vehement attack, followed by lusty echoes all about as of an army of heroes.  There is the breath of battle in the rumbling basses and the shaking, quivering brass.

At last the plain song resounds in simple lines of ringing brass, led by the high bugle.[A]

[Footnote A:  Saint-Saens employs besides the usual 4 horns, 2 trumpets, 3 trombones and tuba, a small bugle (in B-flat) and 2 cornets.]

Yet the struggle, the inner combat, is not over.  At the very moment of triumph sings on high over purling harp the mastering strain of Sirens, is buried beneath martial clash and emerges with its enchantment.  But here the virile mood and motive gains the victory and strides on to final scene.

We remember how Hercules built and ascended his own funeral pyre.  In midst of quivering strings, with dashing harp and shrieking wood, a roll of drum and a clang of brass sounds the solemn chant of the trombone, descending in relentless steps.  As the lowest is reached, there comes a spring of freedom in the pulsing figures, like the winging of a spirit, and a final acclaim in a brief line of the legend.

OMPHALE’S SPINNING WHEEL

Between title and score is this Notice: 

“The subject of this symphonic poem is feminine witchery, the triumphant struggle of weakness.  The spinning wheel is a mere pretext, chosen from the point of view of rhythm and the general atmosphere of the piece.