ODE TO MUSIC, BY THE LATE DR. WHARTON.
Reading edition
Queen of ev’ry moving measure, Sweetest source of purest pleasure, Music; why thy pow’rs employ, Only for the sons of joy? Only for the smiling guests, At natal or at nuptial feasts; Rather thy lenient numbers pour On those whom secret griefs devour; Bid be still the throbbing hearts Of those, whom death or absence parts; And, with some softly whisper’d air, Oh! smooth the brow of dumb despair.