be mine the hut that from the mountain s side views and swelling floods and brown and dim discovered and hears their simple bell and marks o er all thy fingers draw the gradual dusky veil william while spring shall pour his showers as oft he wont and thy breathing eve while summer loves to sport beneath thy lingering light while sallow autumn fills thy lap with leaves or winter yelling through the air thy shrinking train and rudely thy robes so long sure found beneath the shed shall fancy friendship science rose health thy influence own and hymn thy favourite name the passions when music heavenly maid was young while yet in early greece she sung the passions oft to hear her shell thronged around her magic cell trembling raging fainting beyond the muse s painting by turns they felt the glowing mind disturbed delighted raised refined till once tis said when all were fired filled with fury inspired from the supporting round they snatched her instruments of sound and as they oft had heard apart sweet lessons of her art each for madness ruled the hour would prove his own expressive power first fear his hand its skill to try amid the bewildered laid and back he knew not why even at the sound himself had made vol ill u the ea poets j i next anger rushed his eyes on fire in owned his secret in one rude clash he struck the and swept with hurried hand the strings with measures wan despair low sullen sounds his grief a solemn strange and mingled air twas sad by fits by starts twas wild but thou o hope with eyes so fair what was thy delightful measure still it whispered promised pleasure and bade the lovely scenes at distance hail still would her touch the strain and from the rocks the woods the she called on echo still through all the song and where her sweetest theme she chose a soft voice was heard at every close and hope enchanted smiled and waved her golden hair and longer had she sung � but with a frown revenge impatient rose he threw his blood stained sword in thunder down and with a withering look the war trumpet took and blew a blast so loud and dread were ne er prophetic sounds so full of woe and ever and anon he beat the drum with furious heat and though sometimes each dreary pause between dejected pity at his side her soul voice applied yet still he kept his wild mien while each strained ball of sight seemed bursting from his head thy numbers jealousy to naught were fixed sad proof of thy state of the song was mixed and now it love now called on hate william with eyes as one inspired pale melancholy sat retired and from her wild seat in notes by distance made more sweet poured through the mellow horn her pensive soul and dashing soft from rocks around joined the sound through and the mingled measure stole or o er some haunted stream with fond delay round an holy calm love of peace and lonely musing in hollow murmurs died away but o how altered was its tone when cheerfulness a of hue her bow across her shoulder flung her with morning dew blew an inspiring air that and thicket the hunter s call to and known the oak crowned sisters and their eyed queen and boys were seen peeping from forth their green brown exercise rejoiced to hear and sport up and seized his spear last came joy s trial he with crown advancing first to the lively pipe his hand but soon he saw the brisk awakening whose sweet voice he loved the best they would have thought who heard the strain they saw in her native maids amidst the sounding shades to some dancing while as his flying fingers kissed the strings love framed with mirth a gay fantastic round loose were her seen her and he amidst his play as if he would the charming air repay shook thousand from his wings � u the english poets o music sphere descended maid friend of pleasure wisdom s aid why goddess why to us denied lay st thou thy ancient aside as in that loved bower you learned an all commanding power thy soul o can well recall what then it heard where is thy native simple heart devote to virtue fancy art arise as in that elder time warm energetic sublime thy wonders in that age fill thy sister s page � tis said and i believe the tale thy reed could more prevail had more of strength rage than all which charms this age e en all at once together found s mingled world of sound � o bid our vain cease revive the just designs of greece return in all thy simple state confirm the tales her sons relate on the death of mr in yonder grave a lies where slowly winds the stealing wave the year s best sweets shall rise to deck its poet s grave in yon deep bed of whispering his airy harp shall now be laid that he whose heart in sorrow may love through life the soothing shade the scene of the following is supposed to lie on the thames near william i � � ii i � � � � � r � m � � then maids and youths shall linger here and while its sounds at distance swell shall sadly seem in pity s ear to hear the pilgrim s remembrance oft shall haunt the shore when thames in summer wreaths is and oft the dashing oar to bid his gentle spirit rest i and oft as ease and health retire to lawn or forest deep the friend shall view yon spire and mid the varied landscape weep but thou who own st that bed ah what will every avail or tears 