 | The Harp of Erin |  |
248
TO THE EVENING STAR.
Soft star! approaching slowly on the
sky
With solemn march, if e'er beneath thy beam,
Darkling, I heav'd the deep-impassion'd sigh,
Or bade the silent tear of feeling stream;
With solemn march, if e'er beneath thy beam,
Darkling, I heav'd the deep-impassion'd sigh,
Or bade the silent tear of feeling stream;
If e'er, with fancy's magic voice, I call'd
Ten thousand sprites to tend thy sapphire car,
If e'er by rushing darkness unappall'd,
I follow'd thy receding light afar;
Ten thousand sprites to tend thy sapphire car,
If e'er by rushing darkness unappall'd,
I follow'd thy receding light afar;
Be gracious, now:—to this love-labour'd
bow'r
With thy bright clue conduct my promis'd fair,
Full on her face thy yellow radiance pour,
And gild the flowing tissue of her hair;
With thy bright clue conduct my promis'd fair,
Full on her face thy yellow radiance pour,
And gild the flowing tissue of her hair;
So shall the nightingale, her note prolong,
Wild-warbling to thine ear our bridal-song!
Wild-warbling to thine ear our bridal-song!
| The Harp of Erin | |