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Rh The soft Erato wakes, when she would sing Of loveliness, and love by sorrow shaded; Her voice (the Syren's is not sweeter, when She breathes her music to calm moonlight seas,) Was fraught with tender feelings, and called forth An answering harmony within the heart; And even when it ceas'd, the list'ner's ear, Thrill'd with its wild and witching melody. She stood, like some fair creature of the skies, In mild unconscious beauty, and her eyes Sunk to their timid station on the ground: Her cheek was delicately pale; but when They placed the laurel crown upon her brow, Her face was mantled by a burning blush, Bright, beautiful, like summer's glowing eve, Such as young Psyche wore, when Love first taught His own sweet language.