Poems (Frances Elizabeth Browne)/On music
ON MUSIC.
Music, soother of the soul! Purest balm to mortals given!Passion bows to thy control, Thy sweet strains partake of heaven.
Thou canst cheer the wounded heart When depressed with earthly woes,Comfort gently canst impart, Wildest feelings calm compose.
Joy wakes from thee a livelier strain; Mirth with thee delights to dwell,And, in sportive pleasure's reign, Lightly strikes the vocal shell.
But all thy noblest powers are joined To emulate devotion's flame;With strength and harmony combined, Be this thy proper end and aim.
Seraphs golden harps employ To celebrate Jehovah's fame,While the harmonious choir on high Of spirits blest resound his name.
When, in a melodious song, Earth echoes back the heavenly strains,Angels the dying notes prolong, Sweet music fills the ethereal plains.