Excesses of Pleasure now crowd on apace;
How sweetly the Violins sound to each Bass:
The ravishing Trebles delight ev'ry Ear,
And Mirth in a Scene of true Joy does appear:
No Lover of Phillis's rigour complains;
None mourn for their losses, or laugh for their gains;
But lost in an Extasie publish their Joy,
Whilst the Name of Cæcilia resounds to the Sky.
Ah Heaven! what is't I hear?
The Warbling Lute Inchants my Ear:
Now Beauty's Pow'r Inflames my Breast again;
I Sigh, and Languish with a pleasing Pain.
The Notes so soft, so sweet the Air,
The Soul of Love must sure be there,
That mine in Rapture charms, and drives away Despair.
Musick! Celestial Musick! what can be, }
On this side Heaven, compar'd to thee? }
Thou only Treat, fit for a Deity: }
Monarchs by Flattery or Fame,
May Arrogate a Glorious Name,
But in each Soul Delighting Symphony, }
Address'd to bright Cæcilia's Royalty, }
Are Sacred Honours fit for none, but for Divine degree. }
This that blest King, and God-like Prophet knew,
That oft from Worldly Joys withdrew;
From Glittering Pomp, and all the Courtly Throng;
And to th' Eternal King of Kings,
To the sweet Harp's well govern'd Strings,
Paid best Devotion in Seraphick Song.
CHORUS.
And thus by Musicks Pow'r,
Above dull Earth we soar;
Exalt our Chorus to the Skie,
And in Transporting Melody
Cæcilia's Name Adore.
Divine Cæcilia, whom we all confess
Our Arts Inspire; Musick's Patroness.
