Ode to Music

All-powerful charmer of the soul,
Each mood of fancy formed to please,—
To bid the wave of passion roll,
Or tune the languid breast to ease,—
Come, in thy native garb arrayed,
And pour the sweetly simple song,
And all the poet's breast pervade
And guide the fluent verse along.

What time the moon with silver beam
Shall sparkle on the light-blue lake,
And hope with sympathetic gleam
And silent pleasure shall awake,—
Then, as thy quivering notes resound
From lively pipe and mellow horn,
And quick-paced marches breathe around,
Shrill thro' the ringing valleys borne,—
Then, swelled with every winding tone,
Tumultuous shall my heart rebound,
And ardour o'er my bosom thrown
Shall kindle at the rising sound!

Or oft at evening's closing hour
When deeper purple dyes the cloud,
When fancy haunts the silent bower,
And pensive thoughts the bosom crowd,—
What time the softening zephyr flies
My notes shall aid the gentle theme
That lonely meditation tries,
And grateful soothe her placid dream.
Then let the mellow warbling flute
In slow sad numbers pour the song—
. . . . . . . .
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