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The Players ask for a blessing on the Psalteries and on themselves
| Three Voices [together]. Hurry to bless the hands that play, | | The mouths that speak, the notes and strings, | | O
masters of the glittering town! | | O! lay the shrilly trumpet down, | | Though drunken with the flags that
sway | | Over the ramparts and the towers, | | And with the waving of your wings. | | | | | | First Voice. Maybe they
linger by the way. | | One gathers up his purple gown; | | One leans and mutters by the wall— | | He dreads the
weight of mortal hours. | | | | | | Second Voice. O no, O no! they hurry down | | Like plovers that have heard the
call. | | | | | | Third Voice. O kinsmen of the Three in One, | | O kinsmen, bless the hands that play. | | The notes they
waken shall live on | | When all this heavy history’s done; | | Our hands, our hands must ebb away. | | | | | | Three
Voices [together]. The proud and careless notes live on, | | But bless our hands that ebb away. |
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By PanEris
using Melati.
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