"Musick alone inflames my drooping Mind; / Nay, she would mount her Wings, and fly away, / Not be confin'd to this dull Lump of Clay, / Did not the Charms of Musick most divine / Unite, and things so wide, so close combine."
— Hawkshaw, Benjamin (1671/2-1738)
'Mongst all the Blessings that the Gods can send,
No Joy, no Bliss, my sullen Heart can find,
Musick alone inflames my drooping Mind;
Nay, she would mount her Wings, and fly away,
Not be confin'd to this dull Lump of Clay,
Did not the Charms of Musick most divine
Unite, and things so wide, so close combine.
I wonder where's the Fountain of this bliss,
If Heav'ns Joy be here on Earth, 'tis this.
Nay, without this the very Gods would be
As much dissatisfied with Life, as we.
What complicated Wonders in thee shine!
The God-head is by thee made more divine.
Could the Gods secret Whispers reach mine Ear,
When I at their Tribunal shou'd appear;
My panting Breath with Musick shou'd keep time,
And with her latest Breath I'd yield up mine;
I fear I should dissolve for very Joy,
For Bliss it self o'er-charg'd can Life destroy.
(pp. 25-26, ll. 1-20)
Poems upon Several Occasions by Benj. Hawkshaw (London: Printed by J. Heptinstall, for Henry Dickenson, 1693). <Link to EEBO-TCP>