QUEEN of each sacred sound, sweet child of air,
Who sitting thron'd upon the vaulted sky,
Dost catch the notes which undulating fly,
Oft wafted up to thy exalted sphere,
On the soft bosom of each rolling cloud,
Charming thy list'ning ear
With strains that bid the panting lover die:
Or laughing mirth, or tender grief inspire,
Or with full chorus loud
Which lift our holy hope, or fan the hero's sire:
Enchanting Harmony, 'tis thine to cheer
The soul by woe which sinks opprest,
From sorrow's eye to wipe the tear,
And on the bleeding wound to pour the balmy rest.