Page:National Lyrics.pdf/102

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Thus flow'd the death-chaunt on; while mournfully Low winds and waves made answer, and the tones Buried in rocks along the Grecian stream, Rocks and dim caverns of old Prophecy, Woke to respond: and all the air was fill'd With that one sighing sound—"Farewell, Farewell!" —Fill'd with that sound? high in the calm blue heaven Ev'n then a Sky-lark hung; soft summer clouds Were floating round him, all transpierced with light, And midst that pearly radiance his dark wings Quiver'd with song:—such free triumphant song, As if tears were not,—as if breaking hearts Had not a place below—and thus that strain Spoke to the Poet's ear exultingly.