But o'er th' affections too she claims the sway,
Pierces the human heart, and steals the soul away;
And as attractive sounds move high or low,
Th' obedient ductile passions ebb and flow.
Has any nymph her faithful lover lost,
And in the visions of the night,
And all the day-dreams of the light,
In Sorrow's tempest turbulently tost —
From her cheeks the roses die,
The radiations vanish from her sun-bright eye,
And her breast, the throne of love,
Can hardly, hardly, hardly move,
To send th' ambrosial sigh.
But let the skilful Bard appear,
And pour the sounds medicinal in her ear:
Sing some sad, some plaintive ditty,
Steept in tears that endless flow,
Melancholy notes of pity,
Notes that mean a worldof woe;
She too shall sympathize, she too shall moan,
And pitying others sorrows sigh away her own.