Music

And storied windows richly dight, Casting a dim religious light. There let the pealing organ blow, To the full-voiced choir below, In service high, and anthems clear As may, with sweetness, through mine ear Dissolve me into ecstasies, And bring all Heaven before mine eyes.

Or bid the soul of Orpheus sing Such notes as, warbled to the string, Drew iron tears down Pluto’s cheek.

Such sweet compulsion doth in music lie.

Orpheus with his lute made trees, And the mountain-tops that freeze, Bow themselves, when he did sing.

The isle is full of noises, Sounds and sweet airs, that give delight, and hurt not. Sometimes a thousand twangling instruments Will hum about mine ears; and sometimes voices, That, if I then had wak’d after long sleep, Will make me sleep again.

This music crept by me upon the waters, Allaying both their fury, and my passion, With its sweet air.

Music to hear, why hear’st thou music sadly? Sweets with sweet war not, joy delights in joy.

Music, moody food Of us that trade in love.

Music oft hath such a charm To make bad good, and good provoke to harm.

Music from the spheres. 39

If music be the food of love, 37 play on; Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting, The appetite may sicken, and so die. That strain again! it had a dying fall: O! it came o’er my ear like the sweet sound That breathes upon a bank of violets, Stealing and giving odor!

The man that hath no music in himself, Nor is not mov’d with concord of sweet sounds, Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils; The motions of his spirit are dull as night, And his affections dark as Erebus: Let no such man be trusted.

I am never merry when I hear sweet music.

Makes a swanlike end, Fading in music.

And the vile squealing of the wry-neck’d fife.

How silver-sweet sound lovers’ tongues by night, Like softest music to attending ears!

So musical a discord, such sweet thunder.

Since once I sat upon a promontory, And heard a mermaid on a dolphin’s back Uttering such dulcet and harmonious breath, That the rude sea grew civil at her song, And certain stars shot madly from their spheres To hear the sea-maid’s music.

This music mads me: let it sound no more.

When time is broke and no proportion kept! So is it in the music of men’s lives.

Enforce attention like deep harmony.

As bright Apollo’s lute, strung with his hair; And when Love speaks, the voice of all the gods Makes heaven drowsy with the harmony.

He capers nimbly in a lady’s chamber To the lascivious pleasing of a lute.

[On the nightingale:] Lord Zeus, listen to the little bird’s voice; he has filled the whole thicket with honeyed song.