Her sacred spirit soars o’er gilded spires
And breathes into creative fires a force;
In well-tuned chants and chords of countless choirs
Lives ever her immortal shadowed source
From age to age the roll of poets grows;
And yet, a lonely few are laurel-crowned
In whose sweet words her inspiration shows
Revealing insights deep and thoughts profound
O shall Cecelia, or shall Goddess Muse
Reach then to me across etеrnal skies?
Is heaven’s quick’ning firе but a ruse
Abiding rather here before mine eyes?
Nearer than I dream’d is She whose fame
All poets sing, whose glory all proclaim:
Long live fair Oriana!