Lyric Poems Made in Imitation of the Italians. Of which, many are Translations From other Languages ... By Philip Ayres |
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On Cynthia, singing a Recitative Piece of Musick.
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 | Lyric Poems |  |
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On Cynthia, singing a Recitative Piece of Musick.
O thou Angelick Spirit, Face, and Voice,
Sweet Syren, whose soft Notes our Souls rejoice,
Yet when thou dost recite some Tragick Verse,
Thy Tone and Action make it sweetly fierce.
Sweet Syren, whose soft Notes our Souls rejoice,
Yet when thou dost recite some Tragick Verse,
Thy Tone and Action make it sweetly fierce.
If thou soft, loud, sad or brisk Note dost hit,
It carries still our Hearts along with it;
Thou canst heat, cool, grieve us, or make us smile,
Nay stab or kill, yet hurt us not the while.
It carries still our Hearts along with it;
Thou canst heat, cool, grieve us, or make us smile,
Nay stab or kill, yet hurt us not the while.
Thy Gesture, Shape, and Mien, so pleasing are,
With thee, no Humane Being can compare;
Thy Passions, all our Passions do excite,
And thy feign'd Grief does real Tears invite.
With thee, no Humane Being can compare;
Thy Passions, all our Passions do excite,
And thy feign'd Grief does real Tears invite.
Listning to thee, our Bodies seem as dead,
Nor our rapt Souls then up to Heav'n are fled;
So great a Monarch art thou, that thy Breath
Has power to give us either Life, or Death.
Nor our rapt Souls then up to Heav'n are fled;
So great a Monarch art thou, that thy Breath
Has power to give us either Life, or Death.
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