Lislevand! yourplaying comes from God.I promise you. You don't believe me, but it's true.I promise you. O magnificent and serious strainUpon an instrument that Orpheus might have made.The best you are, the best ever, better even than Weiss,Better by far than Weiss, and he was second best.Lislevand first, the rest nowhere!Hush. Be still. You think Richard is mad.You think Richard fancies you, or something.Forget Richard. This is God.God says his Rolf, from Norway's frozen coast,God says his Rolf is a genius sublime.Normally a genius is one who creates not merely plays,But here we make an exception, the only one.You believe me not? O intavolatura! O fuga!Believe your god and pray thanks to him,Pray gratitude that he's revealed to all the worldYour matchless genius divine.And here with me in heaven I have Angel-Bach, ay the sef-same,And astonied he hears his notes of gloryMade more glorious almost to infinity.But peace! I strain too high.Know that you are deeply loved of God,His angels and his friendsand all who pray on St Cecilia's day.Oh Heaven on Earth!