But the eunuchs still complained,
When I raised my voice to sing--
They complained and they maintained
That it had too harsh a ring.
And they raised with one accord
All their dainty voices clear,
Little crystal trills outpoured--
Oh, how pure and fine to hear!
And they sang of love so sweet,
Love's desire and love's full measure,
That the rare artistic treat
Made the ladies weep for pleasure.