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Poem by John Milton
At a Solemn Music
Blest pair of Sirens, pledges of Heav'n's joy, Sphere-born harmonious Sisters, Voice and Verse, Wed your divine sounds, and mixt power employ Dead things with inbreath'd sense able to pierce, And to our high-rais'd fantasy present That undisturbed Song of pure concent, Ay sung before that saphire-colour'd throne To Him that sits thereon With Saintly shout and solemn Jubilee, Where the bright Seraphim in burning row Their loud up-lifted Angel trumpets blow, And the Cherubic host in thousand choirs Touch their immortal Harps of golden wires, With those just Spirits that wear victorious Palms, Hymns devout and holy Psalms Singing everlastingly; That we on Earth with undiscording voice May rightly answer that melodious noise; As once we did, till disproportion'd sin Jarr'd against Nature's chime, and with harsh din Broke the fair music that all creatures made To their great Lord, whose love their motion sway'd In first obedience, and their state of good. And keep in tune with Heav'n, till God ere long To His celestial consort us unite, To live with Him, and sing in endless morn of light.
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