Hark, each Tree its silence breaks,
The Box and Fir to talk begin.
This is the sprightly Violin,
That in the Flute distinctly speaks.
‘Twas Sympathy their list'ning Brethren drew
When to the Thracian Lyre with leafy Wings they flew.
Cold Song
Cold Song
Cold Song
Cold Song
Fairest Isle
Fairest Isle
Sound The Trumpet
Here The Deities Approve
Here The Deities Approve
When I Am Laid In Earth (Dido's Lament)
When I Am Laid In Earth (Dido's Lament)
A Prince Of Glorious Race Descended
Bid The Virtues
A Prince Of Glorious Race Descended
Bid The Virtues
Come, Ye Sons Of Art
Come, Ye Sons Of Art
Wake, Wake, Quivera (The Indian Queen)
Wake, Wake, Quivera (The Indian Queen)
These Are The Sacred Charms