Page:National Lyrics.pdf/159

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Might seem to gush from Sappho's fervent heart, Over the wild sea-wave;—at times the strain Flowed 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 The lay which Genius, in its loneliness, Its own still world amidst th' o'erpeopled world, Hath ever breathed to Love. They crown me with the glistening crown, Borne from a deathless tree; I hear the pealing music of renown— O Love! forsake me not! Mine were a lone dark lot, Bereft of thee!