 | The battle of Niagara |  |
MINSTREL.
Nay—nay sweet girl—thou shalt not weep!I'll wake my Ellen's summer sleep:
This is the strain she bid me sing,
When I would hear her angel wing.
A low—sweet symphony then fell
From each calm wire, as if a spell
In musick might be spoken!
'Twas like the breath of evening's shell
When faintly comes its faintest swell—
Or fairy note from flow'ret bell,
When some young insect's golden cell
By careless touch is broken!
And then was heard like singing air
This adjuration trembling there.
| The battle of Niagara | |