Page:Felicia Hemans in The New Monthly Magazine Volume 28 1830.pdf/4



! why thy power employ Only for the sons of Joy? Only for the smiling guests At natal, or at nuptial feasts? Rather thy lenient numbers pour On those whom secret griefs devour; And with some softly-whisper'd air Smooth the brow of dumb Despair!"—

music! stir the brooding air With an ethereal breath! Bring sounds my struggling soul to bear Up from the couch of death!

A voice, a flute, a dreamy lay, Such as the southern breeze Might waft, at golden fall of day, O'er blue transparent seas!

Oh no! Not such! that lingering spell Would bind me back to life, When my wean'd heart hath said farewell, And pass'd the gates of strife.

Let not a sigh of human love Blend with the song its tone! Let no disturbing echo move One that must die alone!

But pour a solemn-breathing strain Fill'd with the soul of prayer; Let a life's conflict, fear, and pain, And trembling hope be there!

Deeper, yet deeper! in my thought Lies more prevailing sound, A harmony intensely fraught With pleading more profound:

A passion unto music given, A sweet, yet piercing cry: A breaking heart's appeal to Heaven, A bright Faith's victory!

Deeper! Oh! may no richer power Be in those notes enshrined! Can all which crowds on Earth's last hour No fuller language find?

Away! and hush the feeble song, And let the chord be still'd! Far in another land ere long My dream shall be fulfill'd.

In vain my soul its life would pour On the faint music here; The voices of the spirit-shore Even now are in mine ear.