Пёрселл Генри - We the Spirits of the air - текст песни (слова)

We the Spirits of the air
 that of humane things take care;
 Out of pity now descend,
 To forewarn what woes attend.
 Greatness clog'd with scorn decays,
 with the slave no Empire stays.
 Cease to languish then in vain,
 since never to be lov'd again.