Nay, now you are too flat,
And mar the concord with too harsh a descant.

Nay, now you are too flat,
And mar the concord with too harsh a descant.

That which is not worth speaking they sing.
[Fr., Ce qui ne vaut pas la peine d'etre dit, on read more

That which is not worth speaking they sing.
[Fr., Ce qui ne vaut pas la peine d'etre dit, on le chante.]

When I but hear her sing, I fare
Like one that raises, holds his ear
To some read more

When I but hear her sing, I fare
Like one that raises, holds his ear
To some bright star in the supremest Round;
Through which, besides the light that's seen
There may be heard, from Heaven within,
The rests of Anthems, that the Angels sound.

Every night he comes
With musics of all sorts, and songs composed
To her unworthiness. It nothing read more

Every night he comes
With musics of all sorts, and songs composed
To her unworthiness. It nothing steads us
To chide him from our eaves, for he persists
As if his life lay on't.

She hath made me four and twenty nosegays for the
shearers--three-man songmen all, and very good ones; but they read more

She hath made me four and twenty nosegays for the
shearers--three-man songmen all, and very good ones; but they are
most of them means and bases, but one puritan amongst them, and
he sings psalms to hornpipes.

O Carril, raise again thy voice! let me hear the song of Selma,
which was sung in my halls read more

O Carril, raise again thy voice! let me hear the song of Selma,
which was sung in my halls of joy, when Fingal, king of shields,
was there, and glowed at the deeds of his fathers.

Y'ought to hyeah dat gal a-warblin'
Robins, la'ks an' all dem things
Heish de mouffs an' hides read more

Y'ought to hyeah dat gal a-warblin'
Robins, la'ks an' all dem things
Heish de mouffs an' hides dey faces
When Malindy sings.

O, she will sing the savageness out of a bear!

O, she will sing the savageness out of a bear!

But would you sing, and rival Orpheus' strain.
The wond'ring forests soon should dance again;
The moving read more

But would you sing, and rival Orpheus' strain.
The wond'ring forests soon should dance again;
The moving mountains hear the powerful call.
And headlong streams hand listening in their fall!