 | The Poetical Works of Caroline Bowles Southey |  |
259
THE SPELL OF MUSIC.
“Oh! never, never hand of mine
Will wake the harp again,
The viewless harp, the many-voiced,
The long beloved in vain.
Will wake the harp again,
The viewless harp, the many-voiced,
The long beloved in vain.
“Oh! never, never heart of mine,
Throughout its inmost core,
With thrilling tones and symphonies
Will vibrate as of yore.
Throughout its inmost core,
With thrilling tones and symphonies
Will vibrate as of yore.
“On hand, and heart, and spirit now
A deadening spell has dropt—
‘The Vision and the Voice’ are o'er,
The stream of fancy stopt.”
A deadening spell has dropt—
‘The Vision and the Voice’ are o'er,
The stream of fancy stopt.”
'Twas thus I mused, when suddenly
A strain of music stole,
Like perfume on the night-breeze borne,
Into mine inmost soul.
A strain of music stole,
Like perfume on the night-breeze borne,
Into mine inmost soul.
And lo! the living instrument,
The chords unswept so long,
Responded that mysterious touch,
And trembled into song.
The chords unswept so long,
Responded that mysterious touch,
And trembled into song.
| The Poetical Works of Caroline Bowles Southey | |