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The Harper paused—the clouds went past
In pomp upon the rising blast:
The Harper's eye to heaven is raised,
And all the lustres that had blazed,

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In triumph o'er his pallid brow,
Have with the sunset faded now:
And now his eye returns to earth,
And solemn melodies have birth;
And ah, a distant mournful sound,
Goes wandering thro' the caverns round:
Such symphonies are sometimes heard
From some sweet melancholy bird,
That sings her twilight song alone,
As if her heart sent forth a tone:—
In summer dreaming, ye may hear
Such singing gently pass the ear,
And hold your breath 'till it hath gone—
Then wonder, as the song is done,
That ye can be so soon alone:—
Or start to find the glittering tear
Upon the mossy turf appear:—
Or in your visions, when ye see
Some angel-harp, in ecstacy,
Awakened by an angel wing,
When every plume of glittering light,
Unfolding to the dazzled sight,
Goes faintly o'er some quiet string!