<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=419801" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>An Ode, On the Death of Mr. Henry Purcell</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Late Servant to his Majesty, and Organist of the Chapel Royal, and of St. Peter's Westminster </div><div style="margin:10px 0">I</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Mark how the Lark and Linnet Sing, <br>With rival Notes <br>They strain their warbling Throats, <br>To welcome in the Spring. <br>But in the close of Night, <br>When Philomel begins her Heav'nly lay, <br>They cease their mutual spite, <br>Drink in her Music with delight, <br>And list'ning and silent, and silent and list'ning, <br>And list'ning and silent obey.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">II</div><div style="margin:10px 0">So ceas'd the rival Crew when Purcell came, <br>They Sung no more, or only Sung his Fame. <br>Struck dumb they all admir'd the God-like Man, <br>The God-like Man, <br>Alas, too soon retir'd, <br>As He too late began. <br>We beg not Hell, our Orpheus to restore, <br>Had He been there, <br>Their Sovereign's fear <br>Had sent Him back before. <br>The pow'r of Harmony too well they know, <br>He long e'er this had Tun'd their jarring Sphere, <br>And left no Hell below.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">III</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The Heav'nly Choir, who heard his Notes from high, <br>Let down the Scale of Music from the Sky: <br>They handed him along, <br>And all the way He taught, and all the way they Sung. <br>Ye Brethren of the Lyre, and tuneful Voice, <br>Lament his Lot: but at your own rejoice. <br>Now live secure and linger out your days, <br>The Gods are pleas'd alone with Purcell's Lays, <br>Nor know to mend their Choice.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=John+Dryden">John Dryden</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=419801" data-title="An Ode, On the Death of Mr. Henry Purcell de John Dryden" data-description="Late Servant to his Majesty, and Organist of the Chapel Royal, and of St. Peter's Westminster I Mark how the Lark and Linnet Sing, With rival Notes They strain their warbling Throats, To welcome in the Spring. But in the close of Night, Wh..."></div> </div> </div>

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