1.
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. :‖
2.
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. :‖