When Griping Griefs

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Mignarda

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When griping griefs the heart would wound
And doleful dumps the mind oppress,
There Music with her silver sound
Is wont with speed to give redress
Of troubled minds, for ev'ry sore,
Sweet Music hath a salve in store.

In joy it makes our mirth abound,
In grief it cheers our heavy sprites,
Bestraughted heads relief hath found,
By Music's pleasant sweet delights
Our senses, what should I say more,
Are subject unto Music's law.

A heavenly gift, that turns the mind,
Like as the stern doth rule the ship,
Of music whom the gods assigned,
To comfort man whom cares would nip,
Since thou both man and beast doth move,
What wise man then will thee reprove.

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