“Lamia, an enchantress in the form of a serpent, loves Lycius, a young Corinthian.  In order to win him she prays to Hermes, who answers her appeal by transforming her into a lovely maiden.  Lycius meets her in the wood, is smitten with love for her, and goes with her to her enchanted palace, where the wedding is celebrated with great splendour.  But suddenly Apollonius appears; he reveals the magic.  Lamia again assumes the form of a serpent, the enchanted palace vanishes, and Lycius is found lifeless.”

Now this is obviously just the sort of thing to stir the musical imagination of a young composer nourished on Liszt, Raff, and Wagner; and MacDowell (he was then in his twenty-seventh year) composed his tone-poem with evident gusto.  Yet it is the weakest of his orchestral works—­the weakest and the least characteristic.  There is much Liszt in the score, and a good deal of Wagner.  Only occasionally—­as in the pianissimo passage for flutes, clarinets, and divided strings, following the first outburst of the full orchestra—­does his own individuality emerge with any positiveness.  MacDowell withheld the score from publication, at the time of its composition, because of his uncertainty as to its effect.  He had not had an opportunity to secure a reading of it by one of the Cur-Orchester which had accommodatingly tried over his preceding scores at their rehearsals; and such a thing was of course out of the question in America.  Not only was he reluctant to put it forth without such a test, but he lacked the funds to pay for its publication.  He came to realise in later years, of course, that the music was immature and far from characteristic, though he still had a genuine affection for it.  In a talk which I had with him a year before his collapse, he gave me the impression that he considered it at least as good a piece of work as its predecessors, “Hamlet and Ophelia” and “Lancelot and Elaine,” though he made sport, in his characteristic way, of its occasional juvenility and its Wagneristic allegiances.  He intended ultimately to revise and publish the score, and he allowed it to remain on the list of his works.  After his death it was concluded that it would be wise to print the music, for several reasons.  These were, first, because of the fear lest, if it were allowed to remain in manuscript, it might at some future time suffer from well-meant attempts at revision; and, secondly, because of the chance that it might be put forward, after the death of those who knew its history, in a way which would seem to make unwarranted pretensions for it, or would give rise to doubts as to its authenticity.  In a word, it was felt that its immediate publication would obviate any possible misconception at some future time as to its true relation to MacDowell’s artistic evolution.  It was, therefore, published in October, 1908, twenty years after its composition, with a dedication to Mr. Henry T. Finck.