Orpheus with his Lute, from Henry VIII
William Shakespeare

Orpheus with his lute, with his lute made trees
And the mountain tops that freeze
Bow themselves when he did sing.
To his music plants and flow’rs
Ever sprung as sun and show’rs
There had made a lasting spring.
Ev’ry thing that heard him play
Ev’n 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,
Fall asleep, or hearing die.

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