HAIL, SOURCE OF JOY! THY MAGIC TOUCH
HATH GIVEN.
I
Hail, source of joy! thy magic touch hath given
Spirit and eloquence to these mute chords:
Sweet Music, hail! thou wakest thoughts of heaven,
Linking unearthly sounds to earthly words.
Hearts own thy sway! when countless voices raise
Through echoing aisles the song of prayer and praise.
II
The merry dance, the “poetry of motion,”
Owes all its charm, its very birth, to thee;
Footsteps as light as foam upon the ocean,
Robb'd of thy measures, motionless would be.
Hearts own thy sway, when youthful beauty moves
And seems to float upon the tune she loves!
III
Thy soothing cadence lulls affliction's slumbers,
Thy nobler strains arouse the warrior's fire;
And well we know the pathos of thy numbers,
When little Cupid strings Apollo's lyre.
Hearts own thy sway, when lovers glide along
O'er waves whose ripple mingles with their song.
