Orpheus with his lute made trees,
And the mountain tops that freeze,
Bow themselves, when he did sing:
To his music plants and flowers
Ever sprung; as sun and showers
There had made a lasting spring.
Everything that heard him play,
Even the billows of the sea,
Hung their heads, and then lay by.
In sweet music is such art,
Killing care and grief of heart
Fall asleep, or hearing, die.
The music of Orpheus with his lute has been so touchingly inscribed in this poem. A beautiful poem.
Power of music is wonderfully depicted in this poem by master Poet Shakespeare!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
the same... it is from ''Henry VIII'', Act III, Scene 1 - as in the previous pag.....!