University of Virginia Library

FIRST VOICE.
When o'er the hills the dawn is stealing,
Hark to my trill of joyous feeling.

SECOND VOICE.
When the evening has faded and gone,
List to my song as it dies away.

FIRST VOICE.
Hear me, too, when the dews are falling,
Home to her bower the truant calling.

SECOND VOICE.
When the bright moon is rolling on,
Hear my deep shell on the silvered bay,
Hear my deep shell on the silvered bay.

FIRST VOICE.
Hark to my trill of joyous feeling,
Like the young lark's, in his gladness wheeling.

SECOND VOICE.
List to my song as it dies away.
List to my song as it bursts again,
Loud as the trump on the battle-plain:
Now, like the mountain horn,
Clanging through wood and dell,
Far on the echoes borne,—
O, hark to its rolling swell!
Careering, careering afar,
It pours like a flood from the height,
Answers from crag and scar,
Then breathes like the whisper of night.

FIRST VOICE.
Merrily, merrily ringing,
My clear voice wakens the grove,
Clear as the woodman's, singing
The song of his happy love.
Like bees on the purple heather,
When summer is still and bright,
My tones, light hovering, gather
New sweets in their airy flight.

SECOND VOICE.
Mine is the spell of power.

FIRST VOICE.
Mine is the charm of feeling.

SECOND VOICE.
Night is my chosen hour.

FIRST VOICE.
Mine is the cheerful day.

BOTH.