And as I wake, sweet music breathe
Above, about or underneath,
Sent by some spirit to mortals good,
Or th’unseen genius of the wood.
But let my due feet never fail to walk the studious cloister’s pale,
And love the high embowed roof, With antic pillars massy proof,
And storied windows richly delight, Casting a dim religious light.
There let the pealing organ blow to the full voiced choir below
In service high and anthems clear,
As may with sweetness, through mine ear,
dissolve me into ecstasies, and bring all heaven before mine eyes.
John Milton (1645)
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