Her house not ancient, whatsoe'er pretence Her clergy heralds make in her defence; A second century not half-way run, So lurked in sects unseen. With greater Since the new honors of her blood be Nor wholly stands condemned, nor wholly Less than a god they thought there could 5 25 35 In dying notes discovers The woes of hopeless lovers, Whose dirge is whispered by the warbling lute. 25 With flying fingers touched the lyre: Then round her slender waist he curled, And stamped an image of himself, a sovereign of the world. The listening crowd admire the lofty sound, "A present deity," they shout around; "A present deity," the vaulted roofs And the sparkles that flash from their The sweet enthusiast, from her sacred Thus, long ago, Could swell the soul to rage, or kindle soft At last divine Cecilia came, 160 The sweet enthusiast, from her sacred ing your commands, I shall draw some store, Enlarged the former narrow bounds, Let old Timotheus yield the prize, He raised a mortal to the skies; GRAND CHORUS At last divine Cecilia came, envy on myself. Besides, in performing To begin then with Shakespeare. He End |