Lap me in soft Lydian airs,

Married to immortal verse;

Such as the meeting soul may pierce

In notes, with many a winding bout

Of linkèd sweetness long drawn out, 140

With wanton heed and giddy cunning;

The melting voice through mazes running,

Untwisting all the chains that tie

The hidden soul of harmony;

That Orpheus’ self may heave his head 145