Пёрселл Генри - Come, ye Sons of Art, Z 323 - текст песни (слова)

2. Come, ye Sons of Art, come away,
 Tune all your voices and instruments play
 To celebrate this triumphant day.
 
 3. Sound the trumpet, till around
 You make the list'ning shores rebound.
 On the sprightly hautboy play;
 All the instruments of joy,
 That skilful numbers can employ,
 To celebrate the glories of this day.
 
 4. Come, ye Sons of Art, come away,
 Tune all your voices and instruments play
 To celebrate this triumphant day.
 
 5. Strike the viol, touch the lute,
 Wake the harp, inspire the flute.
 Sing your patroness's praise,
 In cheerful and harmonious lays.
 
 6. The day that such a blessing gave
 No common festival should be.
 What it justly seem'd to crave,
 Grant, o grant, and let it have
 The honour of a Jubilee.
 
 7. Bid the virtues, bid the graces
 To the sacred shrine repair
 Round the altar take their places
 Blessing with returns of pray'r
 Their great defender's care,
 While Maria's royal zeal
 Best instructs you how to pray
 Hourly from her own
 Conversing with the Eternal Throne.
 
 8. These are the sacred charms that shield
 Her daring hero in the field;
 Thus she supports his righteous cause,
 Thus to aid his immortal pow'r she draws.
 
 9. See Nature, rejoicing, has shown us the way,
 With innocent revels to welcome the day.
 The tuneful grove, and talking rill,
 The laughing vale, the replying hill,
 With charming harmony unite,
 The happy season to invite.
 What the Graces require,
 And the Muses inspire,
 Is at once our delight and our duty to pay.
 Thus Nature, rejoicing, has shown us the way,
 With innocent revels to welcome the day.