 | Poems by William Kendall |  |
7
III. To MUSIC.
Shall grief the spring of youth deform?
Goddess, awake! dispel the storm.
Goddess, awake! dispel the storm.
When all our early hopes decay,
What varied charms attend thy lay;
What calm delight thy notes serene
Diffuse, to chear life's lonely scene;
Let bards in lofty measures tell,
More skill'd to sound the muse's shell:
Let these, replete with lyric flame,
In rapturous verse exalt thy name,
Inspired with melting sweetness sing,
Or boldly sweep the fervid string.
Be mine an humbler wreath to gain—
To paint a fond enamour'd swain,
By passion's flattering dream betray'd,
Who flew to meet a yielding maid;
But, hapless, for his promis'd fair
Clasp'd the fell demon of despair!
Assist me in that mournful hour,
Bright goddess, to record thy power.
What varied charms attend thy lay;
What calm delight thy notes serene
Diffuse, to chear life's lonely scene;
Let bards in lofty measures tell,
More skill'd to sound the muse's shell:
Let these, replete with lyric flame,
In rapturous verse exalt thy name,
Inspired with melting sweetness sing,
Or boldly sweep the fervid string.
Be mine an humbler wreath to gain—
To paint a fond enamour'd swain,
By passion's flattering dream betray'd,
Who flew to meet a yielding maid;
But, hapless, for his promis'd fair
Clasp'd the fell demon of despair!
8
Bright goddess, to record thy power.
Where the wan moon in scatter'd streams
Profusely pours her pensive beams
Along the valleys lonely way,
I see the love-lorn mourner stray.
Oft to the skies he turns his sight,
Invokes the living lamps of light,
Or throws convulsive glances round,
Or wildly gazes on the ground.
But ah! no tears bedew those eyes,
From that pale lip no murmur flies:
He faints—he falls! his languid breath
Hangs fluttering o'er the verge of death.
Profusely pours her pensive beams
Along the valleys lonely way,
I see the love-lorn mourner stray.
Oft to the skies he turns his sight,
Invokes the living lamps of light,
Or throws convulsive glances round,
Or wildly gazes on the ground.
But ah! no tears bedew those eyes,
From that pale lip no murmur flies:
He faints—he falls! his languid breath
Hangs fluttering o'er the verge of death.
Harmonious nymph—resume thy reed,
Till sorrow's wound no longer bleed!
Till sorrow's wound no longer bleed!
Hark! breathing rapture o'er the skies,
Ætherial sounds sublimely rise.
The goddess hears,—she wakes the reed:
The wounds of sorrow cease to bleed;
And, sweetest of the warbling throng,
Nights minstrel emulates the song.
Again her swelling voice prepares
Diviner measures, softer airs.
Swift from their haunts, on slender wing,
The Fairy bands delighted spring!
In crowds they fly—no lingering sprite
Of all the shadowy tribes of night,
In dripping cave, or mossy cell,
Remains to weave the wonted spell.
Retired within a veiling cloud
The listening Fays their numbers shroud;
And as the soaring song aspires
Return the strain with echoing lyres.
Ætherial sounds sublimely rise.
The goddess hears,—she wakes the reed:
The wounds of sorrow cease to bleed;
9
Nights minstrel emulates the song.
Again her swelling voice prepares
Diviner measures, softer airs.
Swift from their haunts, on slender wing,
The Fairy bands delighted spring!
In crowds they fly—no lingering sprite
Of all the shadowy tribes of night,
In dripping cave, or mossy cell,
Remains to weave the wonted spell.
Retired within a veiling cloud
The listening Fays their numbers shroud;
And as the soaring song aspires
Return the strain with echoing lyres.
Behold, unrivall'd power, behold
The wondrous scene thy lays unfold.
Enchantress! o'er that faded cheek
Serenely stealing tears bespeak
What lenient aid thy notes impart,
What balm to heal a wounded heart.
Grief's raging pang for thee subsides,
And passion checks his whelming tides.
The swain revives! he feels thy breath
Dispel the louring gloom of death:
He drinks thy spirit chearing note
And all his fears in Lethe float.
The wondrous scene thy lays unfold.
Enchantress! o'er that faded cheek
Serenely stealing tears bespeak
What lenient aid thy notes impart,
What balm to heal a wounded heart.
Grief's raging pang for thee subsides,
And passion checks his whelming tides.
10
Dispel the louring gloom of death:
He drinks thy spirit chearing note
And all his fears in Lethe float.
Now, goddess, now, thy labours cease!
The lover's sorrow sinks to peace.
Assembled Elves! in close array
Your squadrons join, and haste away!
In dewy grot, or leafy bower,
With mystic dance consume the hour,
Till orient rays of ruddy light
Announce the falling reign of night.
The lover's sorrow sinks to peace.
Assembled Elves! in close array
Your squadrons join, and haste away!
In dewy grot, or leafy bower,
With mystic dance consume the hour,
Till orient rays of ruddy light
Announce the falling reign of night.
Bright guardian of melodious lay,
Awhile farewell! I own thy sway:
My bosom feels thy sacred fire,
I bend obedient to thy lyre.
Lives there a wretch of rugged soul
Unaw'd by Music's soft controul?
Let love the senseless savage wound—
Ev'n he shall own the force of sound.
Awhile farewell! I own thy sway:
My bosom feels thy sacred fire,
I bend obedient to thy lyre.
Lives there a wretch of rugged soul
Unaw'd by Music's soft controul?
Let love the senseless savage wound—
Ev'n he shall own the force of sound.
| Poems by William Kendall | |