A woman's voice: on that could be no dispute.

Tell me, what opens heaven more flamingly to heart and mind, than the voice of a woman, pouring clear accordant notes to the blue night sky, that grows light blue to the moon?
There was no flourish in her singing.

All the notes were firm, and rounded, and sovereignly distinct.

She seemed to have caught the ear of Night, and sang confident of her charm.

It was a grand old Italian air, requiring severity of tone and power.