Saint Cecilia, robed in light,
With a portable organ slung before her.
And round were cherubs, on rainbow wings,
Who, his lordship fear’d, might tire of flitting,
So begg’d they’d sit,—but, ah! poor things,
They had none of them got the means of sitting[18].
‘Having heard,’ said the saint, ‘you’re fond of hymns,
And, indeed, that musical snore betray’d you,
Myself, and my choir of cherubims,
Are come, for a while, to serenade you.’