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VIII. That wakes the wavelets of the slumbering sea And dies on the creation of its breath, And sinks and rises, fails and swells by fits:
 * Was the pure stream of feeling
 * That sprung from these sweet notes,

And o'er the Spirit's human sympathies With mild and gentle motion calmly flowed.


 * Joy to the Spirit came,—
 * Such joy as when a lover sees

The chosen of his soul in happiness,
 * And witnesses her peace

Whose woe to him were bitterer than death,
 * Sees her unfaded cheek

Glow mantling in first luxury of health,
 * Thrills with her lovely eyes,

Which like two stars amid the heaving main
 * Sparkle through liquid bliss.

Then in her triumph spoke the Fairy Queen: I will not call the ghost of ages gone To unfold the frightful secrets of its lore;
 * The present now is past,

And those events that desolate the earth Have faded from the memory of Time, Who dares not give reality to that Whose being I annul. To me is given The wonders of the human world to keep, Space, matter, time, and mind. Futurity Exposes now its treasure; let the sight Renew and strengthen all thy failing hope.