‘Tis said, the pipe and lute that charm our ears Derive their melody from rolling spheres; But Faith, o’erpassing speculation’s bound, Can see what sweetens every jangled sound. We, who are parts of Adam, heard with him The song of angels and of seraphim. Out memory, though dull and sad, retains Some echo still of those unearthly strains. Oh, music is the meat of all who love, Music uplifts the soul to realms above. The ashes glow, the latent fires increase: We listen and are fed with joy and peace.