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текст песни (слова) "Theodora, HWV 68"
24. Angels, ever bright and fair, Take, oh take me to your care; Speed to your own courts my flight, Clad in robes of virgin white. 66. How strange their ends, And yet how glorious! Where each contends To fall victorious! Where virtue its own innocence denies, And for the vanquish'd the glad victor dies! 72. O love divine, thou source of fame, Of glory, and all joy! Let equal fire our souls inflame, And equal zeal employ, That we the glorious spring may know, Whose streams appear'd so bright below.