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["Daughter of Coelus! as of old", in] Boston prize poems

and other specimens of dramatic poetry

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III.

III.

1.

Softly, as when the zephyr's wing
Fans the soft chord at evening's holy tide,
Or, where the babbling waters glide,
The breathing lute, with melancholy string,
Sounds sadly to the morning gale
When night withdraws her sable veil,
Could the enchanter Love's divine control
Soothe to numbers sweet thy soul,
And give to feeling a more hallowed tone;—
And so, when from her solemn throne
Grief touched with chastening hand thy heart,
It beat to sadder measures with diviner art.

2.

Lo! slowly moves the pageant train!
And, as from angel harps soft musick breaks,
When the unfettered spirit takes
Its farewell parting from the world and pain,
So, on the ravished ear grows mute

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The musick of the love-strung lute!
Again the seraph sings from yon light cloud;—
Mimick Echo laughs aloud,
Where Comus and his Bacchanalian band
Of Satyrs, moving hand in hand,
And sylvan nymphs, with roses crowned,
The car of Thalia draw with lutes of silver sound.

3.

Not unto the Paphian Queen,
Moving in her silver sheen,
Be the song, for now is hung
O'er his tomb the lyre unstrung,
And wreathed with cypress sad!
See, see its master-spirit languish!
Tuned each quivering chord to anguish,
Till, with madness in its numbers,
Bursts the string, HE swept before!
Never, woken from its slumbers,
Never, hand may sweep it more!
The earth has taken back the dust it gave,
And sadly now, with melancholy eye,
Afflicted Memory lingers round his grave,
And evening winds the dirge of Genius sigh,
Whilst there the pilgrim's solemn footsteps turn,
And Beauty weeps at night o'er Love's forsaken urn.