When Haydn’s fire and fancy glow.
“‘I am the genius of that gentle art
Which soothes the sorrows of mankind,
And to my faithful votaries impart
Extatic joys the most refin’d.
“‘On earth, each bard sublime my power displays;
Divine Cecilia was my own;
In heav’n each saint and seraph breathes my lays
In praises round th’ eternal throne.
“‘To thee, afflicted maid,