Page:National Lyrics.pdf/287



there some spirit sighing With sorrow in the air, Can weary hearts be dying, Vain love repining there? If not, then how can that wild wail, O sad Æolian lyre! Be drawn forth by the wandering gale, From thy deep thrilling wire?

No, no!—thou dost not borrow That sadness from the wind, Nor are those tones of sorrow In thee, O harp! enshrined;