Читать книгу The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction. Volume 17, No. 494, June 18, 1831 - Various - Страница 7

Soft breathings of aerial melody,

Ye seem like love-songs from the elfin land,

Or soundings from that heaven-commissioned band,

Ushering the good man to the bliss on high.

Now swells the chorus full, anon ye die

Away upon the breeze, so soft and bland

Melting on evening's ear. Sure Love's own hand

In kindest mood hath wrought this minstrelsy.

How to the lorn heart does its influence creep,

As the wild winds sweep o'er the fairy strings,

Bringing again departed, perish'd things,

O'er which we feel it luxury to weep.

Sing on ye zephyr-sprites, your vespers cheer

The heart, whose off'ring is a holy tear.