She sings! the Nightingale with envy hears,
The Cherub listens from his starry throne,
And motionless are stopt the attentive SPHERES,
To hear more heavenly music than their own.
Cease, Delia, cease! for all the ANGEL THRONG,
Hearkening to thee, let sleep their golden wires!
Cease, Delia, cease, that too surpassing song,
Lest, stung to envy, they should break their lyres.
Cease, ere my senses are to madness driven
By the strong joy! Cease, Delia, lest my soul,