Page:The Domestic Affections, and Other Poems.pdf/17



O thou! whose soft, bewitching lyre, Can lull the sting of pain to rest; Oh thou! whose warbling notes inspire, The pensive muse with visions blest; Sweet music! let thy melting airs Enhance my joys, and sooth my cares!

Is there enchantment in thy voice, Thy dulcet harp, thy moving measure; To bid the mournful mind rejoice, To raise the fairy form of pleasure? Yes, heav'nly maid! a charm is thine, A magic art, a spell divine!

Sweet music! when thy notes we hear, Some dear remembrance oft they bring, Of friends belov'd, no longer near, And days that flew on rapture's wing;