Celia, Sleeping Or Singing.[30:1]

Roses, in breathing forth their scent, Or stars their borrowed ornament; Nymphs in the watery sphere that move, Or angels in their orbs above; The winged chariot of the light, Or the slow silent wheels of night; The shade which from the swifter sun Doth in a circular motion run, Or souls that their eternal rest do keep, Make far more[30:2] noise than Celia's breath in sleep.

But if the angel which inspires This subtle frame[30:3] with active fires, Should mould this[30:4] breath to words, and those Into a harmony dispose, The music of this heavenly sphere Would steal each soul out at the ear, And into plants and stones infuse A life that cherubim[30:5] would choose, And with new powers[30:6] invert the laws of fate: Kill those that live, and dead things animate.