 | Ballads and other verses |  |
94
THE SONG-QUEEN.
Look on her! there she stands, the world's prime wonder,The great Queen of Song! Ye rapt Musicians,
Touch your golden wires, for now ye prelude strains
To mortal ears unwonted. Hark! she sings.
Yon pearly gates their magic waves unloose,
And all the liberal air rains melody
Around. O night! O time! delay, delay!
Pause here, entranced. Ye evening winds, come near,
But whisper not; and you, ye flowers, fresh culled
From odorous nooks, where silvery rivulets run,
Breathe silent incense still.
Hail, matchless Queen!
Thou, like the high white Alps, canst hear, unspoiled,
The world's artillery (thundering praises) pass,
And keep serene and safe thy spotless fame!
| Ballads and other verses | |