 | The Poetical Works of James Gates Percival |  |
[XII. Give me that fond music]
Give me that fond music,
That charmed my heart so sweetly:
Softly breathed its numbers,
Deep to my inmost soul.
The light-winged dance obeys it;
The maidens trip it featly;
All darker passion slumbers;
Full tides of gladness roll.
That charmed my heart so sweetly:
Softly breathed its numbers,
Deep to my inmost soul.
The light-winged dance obeys it;
The maidens trip it featly;
All darker passion slumbers;
Full tides of gladness roll.
Still the sound is flowing,
Like summer brook at even,
Over pebbles leaping
In sparkling joy along.
The wind is faintly blowing;
The clouds are bright in heaven;
The spirits there are keeping
A festival of song.
Like summer brook at even,
Over pebbles leaping
In sparkling joy along.
The wind is faintly blowing;
The clouds are bright in heaven;
The spirits there are keeping
A festival of song.
Wake the sounding viol!
Dark eyes, with speaking glances,
Kindle high with pleasure,
As rings the well-known strain.
With easy gliding motion,
Involved in graceful fancies
Of light uncertain measure,
Responds the mimic train.
Dark eyes, with speaking glances,
Kindle high with pleasure,
As rings the well-known strain.
270
Involved in graceful fancies
Of light uncertain measure,
Responds the mimic train.
| The Poetical Works of James Gates Percival | |