I see her still-by her
fair train surrounded,
The fairest of them all, she took her place;
Afar I stood, by her bright charms confounded,
For, oh! they dazzled with their heavenly grace.
With awe my soul was filled-with bliss unbounded,
While gazing on her softly radiant face;
But soon, as if up-borne on wings of fire,
My fingers gan to sweep the sounding lyre.
The thoughts that rushed across
me in that hour,
The words I sang, Id fain once more invoke;
Within, I felt a new-awakened power,
That each emotion of my bosom spoke.
My soul, long time enchained in sloths dull bower,
Through all its fetters now triumphant broke,
And brought to light unknown, harmonious numbers,
Which in its deepest depths, had lived in slumbers.
And when the chords had ceased their
And when my soul rejoined its mortal frame,
I looked upon her face and saw love vieing,
In every feature, with her maiden shame.
And soon my ravished heart seemed heavenward flying,
When her soft whisper oer my senses came.
The blissful seraphs choral strains alone
Can glad mine ear again with that sweet tone,
Of that fond heart, which, pining
Neer ventures to express its feelings lowly,
The real and modest worth is known to me-
Gainst cruel fate Ill guard its cause so holy.
Most blest of all, the meek ones lot shall be-
Loves flowers by loves own hand are gathered solely-
The fairest prize to that fond heart is due,
That feels it, and that beats responsive, too!