THE EOLIAN HARP.
I.
Music of Nature!—Emblem of each sphere!
How sweetly tranquil does my listening soul,
At dewy eve, thy warbling murmurs hear,
When, sooth'd to tenderness, thy measures roll:—
II.
Sometimes more loud, and now yet louder still;
Sometimes more distant, and again more near;
Waking soft echoes, and with magic skill
Swelling the eye with a luxurious tear!
III.
Delightful flutterings!—Hovering toward the sky,
Ten thousand sylphs, on lightest pinions borne,
To realms etherial on your murmurs fly,
And, waked to melancholy feelings, mourn.
Nature's best music!—Since its simple strain
Lulls to repose each transitory pain.