Music the fiercest grief can charm,
    And Fate's severest rage disarm:
    Music can soften pain to ease,
    And make despair and madness please:
    Our joys below it can improve,
    And antedate the bliss above.
  This the divine Cecilia found,
And to her Maker's praise confin'd the sound.
When the full organ joins the tuneful choir,
  Th'immortal pow'rs incline their ear;
Borne on the swelling notes our souls aspire,
While solemn airs improve the sacred fire;
  And angels lean from heav'n to hear.
Of Orpheus now no more let poets tell,
To bright Cecilia greater pow'r is giv'n;
  His numbers raised a shade from hell,
    Hers lift the soul to heav'n.