When we behold her angel face,
Or when she sings with heav'nly grace,
In what we hear or what we see,
So ravishing 's the harmony,
The melting soul, in rapture lost,
Knows not which charm enchants it most.

Sounds that made hills and rocks rejoice,
Amphion's lute, the Syren's voice,
Wonders with pain receiv'd for true
At once find credit, and renew.
No charms like Clavering's voice surprise,
Except the magic of her eyes.