by Anonymous / Unidentified Author

When griping griefs
Language: English 
When griping griefs the heart would wound,
And doleful dumps the mind oppress,
Then Music with her silver sound
Is wont with speed to give redress:
Of troubled mind for every sore
Sweet Music hath a salve therefore.

In joy it makes our mirth abound,
In grief it cheers our heavy sprites,
The careful head relief hath found
By Music's pleasant sweet delights:
Our senses, what should I say more,
Are subject unto Music's lore.

The gods by Music hath their praise,
The soul therein doth joy,
For as the Roman poets say,
In seas whom phates would destroy,
A dolphin saved from death most sharp,
Arion playing on a harp.

A heav'nly gift that turns the mind
Like as the stern doth rule the ship,
Music, whom the gods assigned
To comfort men, whom cares would nip,
Since thou both man and beast doth move,
What wise man then will thee reprove?

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Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]

This text was added to the website: 2009-12-29
Line count: 24
Word count: 153