Page:Hemans in Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine 31 1832.pdf/14



That voice re-measures Whatever tones and melancholy pleasures The things of mature utter: birds or trees, Or where the tall grass 'mid the heath-plant waves, Murmur and music thin of sudden breeze.

I heard a song upon the wandering wind, A song of many tones—though one full soul Breathed through them all imploringly; and made All nature as they pass'd, all quivering leaves And low responsive reeds and waters thrill, As with the consciousness of human prayer. —At times the passion-kindled melody Might seem to gush from Sappho's fervent heart, Over the wild sea-wave;—at times the strain Flow’d with more plaintive sweetness, as if born Of Petrarch's voice, beside the lone Vaucluse; And sometimes, with its melancholy swell, A graver sound was mingled, a deep note Of Tasso's holy lyre;—yet still the tones Were of a suppliant;—"Leave me not!" was still The burden of their music; and I knew