Page:Scenes and Hymns of Life.pdf/39

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I dream of music? Something in their hues All melting into colour'd harmonies, Wafts a swift thought of interwoven chords, Of blended singing-tones, that swell and die In tenderest falls away.—O, bring thy harp, Sister! a gentle heaviness at last Hath touch'd mine eyelids: sing to me, and sleep Will come again.

Jessy. What wouldst thou hear? Th' Italian Peasant's Lay, Which makes the desolate Campagna ring With "Roma, Roma?" or the Madrigal Warbled on moonlight seas of Sicily? Or the old ditty left by Troubadours To girls of Languedoc?

Lilian.Oh, no! not these.

Jessy. What then? the Moorish melody still known Within th' Alhambra city? or those notes Born of the Alps, which pierce the exile's heart