Sweetest the strain when in the song
The singer has been lost.

Sweetest the strain when in the song
The singer has been lost.

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.

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.

Hey! Mr. Tamborine Man, play a song for me.
I'm not sleepy and there is no place I'm going read more

Hey! Mr. Tamborine Man, play a song for me.
I'm not sleepy and there is no place I'm going to.

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.

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!

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.

Sang in tones of deep emotion
Songs of love and songs of longing.

Sang in tones of deep emotion
Songs of love and songs of longing.

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.]