Charles Hubert Hastings Parry - Descend, ye Nine! - текст песни (слова)

Descend, ye Nine! descend and sing; 
The breathing instruments inspire, 
Wake into voice each silent string, 
And sweep the sounding lyre; 
In a sadly-pleasing strain 
Let the warbling lute complain: 
Let the loud trumpet sound, 
Till the roofs all around 
The shrill echoes rebound: 
While in more lengthen'd notes and slow, 
The deep, majestic, solemn organs blow. 
Hark! the numbers soft and clear, 
Gently steal upon the ear; 
Now louder, and yet louder rise, 
And fill with spreading sounds the skies; 
Exulting in triumph now swell the bold notes, 
In broken air, trembling, the wild music floats; 
Till, by degrees, remote and small, 
The strains decay, 
And melt away, 
In a dying, dying fall.