Page:Poems By Chauncy Hare Townshend.djvu/98

 78 ODE ON THE DIYERSITY Oft, pausing, sighs, and drops th' unconscious tear, Unknowing what thy soft confusion means; 'Till, feeling ever, as he pouts the lay, How, thro' his breast, aew floods of rapture roll, How all its restless cares are charm'd away, To thee he dedicates his heart and soul. Ev'n, when along hi veins Love ardent burns, And claims each thought, triumphant, as his own, Faithful to thee, with new delight, he turns, And bids thee share the homage, and the throne. But who is he, whose fingers rove So wildly o'er the wire, Whose eyes in restless glances move, And flash unearthly fire; While the pale mooifs uncertain light Gives his sunk cheek a ghastlier white, High on some cliff, his lofty form, In careless grandeur, lost amid the storm ? "is he, within whose troubled soul Thy spark but wakes to life Impetuous thoughts, that scorn controul, The Passions' deadly strife, Ev'n as the same electric gleam, Which innocently plays, ......... Google

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