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Music for weary hearts! Midst leaves and flowers She dwelt, and knew all secrets of their powers, All nature's balms, wherewith her gliding tread To the sick peasant on his lowly bed, Came, and brought hope; while scarce of mortal birth He deem'd the pale fair form, that held on earth Communion but with grief.

Ere long a cell, A rock-hewn chapel rose, a cross of stone Gleam'd thro' the dark trees o'er a sparkling well, And a sweet voice, of rich, yet mournful tone, Told the Calabrian wilds, that duly there Costanza lifted her sad heart in prayer. And now 'twas prayer's own hour. That voice again Thro' the dim foliage sent its heavenly strain, That made the cypress quiver where it stood In day's last crimson soaring from the wood Like spiry flame. But as the bright sun set, Other and wilder sounds in tumult met