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131
TO A LADY SINGING.
Enough! enough! we have listened too long
To the fall and the flow of that eloquent song;
We have watched too well, for the spirit's ease,
Thy fingers dance o'er the ivory keys.
To the fall and the flow of that eloquent song;
We have watched too well, for the spirit's ease,
Thy fingers dance o'er the ivory keys.
Cease the rich tide of that silver tone,
Though its accent be sweeter than seraph's own;
Echo no more with those quivering lips
The sounds flashing up from thy finger-tips.
Though its accent be sweeter than seraph's own;
Echo no more with those quivering lips
The sounds flashing up from thy finger-tips.
What! dost thou joy to behold us now,
With the half-drawn breath and the flushing brow?
In the pride of thy power dost laugh to see
How we wear the chains of thy witchery?
With the half-drawn breath and the flushing brow?
In the pride of thy power dost laugh to see
How we wear the chains of thy witchery?
132
How we faint with delight; like the wandering band
Who crushed the blue buds of the lotus land,
And drank of its wine to such sweet excess
That they wept for their own dear happiness.
Who crushed the blue buds of the lotus land,
And drank of its wine to such sweet excess
That they wept for their own dear happiness.
Spare us, Enchantress;—the melodies die,
But there liveth strange pain in their memory;
Alas! when afar from the magical spot
The minstrel's remembered, the music's forgot.
But there liveth strange pain in their memory;
Alas! when afar from the magical spot
The minstrel's remembered, the music's forgot.
Sing then, but not with that speaking eye,
That calm soft sweetness and purity;
Lest the sound of thy singing the heart impress
With a mark too deep for forgetfulness.
That calm soft sweetness and purity;
Lest the sound of thy singing the heart impress
With a mark too deep for forgetfulness.
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