I hear the violoncello, (’tis the young man’s heart’s complaint,) I hear the key’d cornet, it glides quickly in through my ears, It shakes mad-sweet pangs through my belly and breast.

I hear the chorus, it is a grand opera, Ah this indeed is music⁠—this suits me.

A tenor large and fresh as the creation fills me, The orbic flex of his mouth is pouring and filling me full.