Classic Poem

When the strings thy fingers sweep,
Laura, all my spirits fail,
Marble-cold my forces sleep,
Life and Death before thee quail.
For thy sovereign powers impress
Hearts — a very sorceress.

Gentle zephyrs rustle by,
Hanging on thy melody,
And, enraptured by the strain,
Dancing round and round remain.
Nature's self is calm and still,
Drinking in thy every thrill:
Victim to thy music she ,
'Tis thy glance that conquers me .

Heaven-born harmonies arise
In voluptuous accord,
Sweet, as though from azure skies
New-born Seraphim upsoared.
As, bursting from Creation's womb,
And quitting Chaos' dreary zones,
The Sun dispersed primeval gloom —
So streams the magic of thy tones.

Gentle now, as down their course
Silver twinkling ripples leap,
Gathering now majestic force
Like an organ grave and deep;
Bursting anon in storm, as from the rock
Descends the cataract with foaming shock;
Then they murmur once again
In coquetting notes of love,
As the wanton airs complain
To the quivering aspen grove.

And now in slow and melancholy wail,
As flutter ghosts upon the midnight gale,
The damned proclaim their lamentable fears,
And dark Cocytus passes, big with tears.
Ah! maiden, dost thou in communion dwell
With heavenly Spirits? I adjure thee, tell!
And is their language (answer, I beseech,
And hide it not) the true Elysian speech?