"A hymn on divine musick"
di anonimo

What art thou? From what causes dost thou spring? Oh! Musick thou Divine
Misterious thing? Let me, let me but know, and knowing give me Voice to
sing? Art thou the warmth in Spring, that Zephire breathes? Painting the
Meads, and whistling through the leaves. The happy, happy Season that all
grief exiles, When God is Pleas'd and the Creation Smiles? Or art thou Love,
that mind to mind imparts, the endless concord of agreeing hearts? Or art
thou Friendship, yet a nobler Flame, that can a dearer way make Souls the
same? Or art thou rather which do all transcend, the Centre which at last
the Blest ascend, the seat where Hallelujahs never end; Corporeal Eyes won't
let us clearly see, but either thou art Heav'n, or Heav'n is thee.