Quotation by Richard Crashaw

Runs to and fro, complaining his sweet cares
Because those pretious mysteries that dwell
In musick's ravish't soule hee dare not tell,
But whisper to the world: thus doe they vary
Each string his Note, as if they meant to carry
Their Masters blest soule (snatcht out at his Eares
By a strong Extasy) through all the sphaeres
Of Musicks heaven; and seat it there on high
In th' Empyrum of pure Harmony.
Richard Crashaw (1613?–1649), British poet. Music's Duel (l. 142–150). . .

Seventeenth-Century Verse and Prose, Vols. I–II. Vol. I: 1600–1660; Vol. II: 1660–1700. Helen C. White, Ruth C. Wallerstein, and Ricardo Quintana, eds. (1951, 1952) The Macmillan Company.
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