Surely again, to heal men's wounds by music's spell.
Of all things upon earth that bleed and grow, a herb most bruised is woman.
'Twas but my tongue, 'twas not my soul that swore.
To the worker, God himself lends aid.
This is sweet to see your foe, perish and pay to justice all he owes.
No one can confidently say that he will still be living tomorrow.