1. When griping grief the hart would wound
And doleful domps the mind oppresse,
There musick with her silver sound
is wont with spede to give redresse
of troubled minds, for every sore,
swete musick hath a salve in store.
2. In joy it makes our mirth aboud,
In woe it cheers our heavy sprites,
Bestraughte'd heads relief hath found;
By music's pleasant sweet delights :
Our senses all, what shall I say more ?
Are subject unto music's lore.
3. O heavenly, gift, that rules the mind,
Even as the stern doth rule the ship
O music, whom the gods assigned
To comfort man, whom cares would nip !
Since thou both man and beast dost move,
What beast is he, will thee disprove ?