He who sings frightens away his ills.
[Sp., Quien canta, sus males espanta.]

He who sings frightens away his ills.
[Sp., Quien canta, sus males espanta.]

Thou, thou, Lysander, thou hast given her rhymes
And interchanged love tokens with my child;
Thou hast read more

Thou, thou, Lysander, thou hast given her rhymes
And interchanged love tokens with my child;
Thou hast by moonlight at her window sung
With feigning voice verses of feigning love.

His tongue is now a stringless instrument;
Words, life, and all, old Lancaster hath spent.

His tongue is now a stringless instrument;
Words, life, and all, old Lancaster hath spent.

Olympian bards who sung
Divine ideas below,
Which always find us young
And always read more

Olympian bards who sung
Divine ideas below,
Which always find us young
And always keep us so.

The tenor's voice is spoilt by affectation,
And for the bass, the beast can only bellow;
In read more

The tenor's voice is spoilt by affectation,
And for the bass, the beast can only bellow;
In fact, he had no singing education,
An ignorant, noteless, timeless, tuneless fellow.

God sent his Singers upon earth
With songs of sadness and of mirth,
That they might touch read more

God sent his Singers upon earth
With songs of sadness and of mirth,
That they might touch the hearts of men,
And bring them back to heaven again.

Who, as they sung, would take the prison'd soul
And lap it in Elysium.

Who, as they sung, would take the prison'd soul
And lap it in Elysium.

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!

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.