Page:The Golden Violet.pdf/210

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Yet with somewhat wild upon lip and cheek, As forth the enthusiast spirit would break To wander at times through earth and air, And feed upon all the wonders there. A changeful prelude his light notes rung, As remembering all they had ever sung: Now the deep numbers rolled along, Like the fiery sweep of a battle song; Now sad, yet bold, as those numbers gave Their last farewell to the victor's grave; Then was it soft and low, as it brought The depths of the maiden's lovelorn thought:— Harp of Erin! hath song a tone Not to thy gifted numbers known?— But the latest touch was light and calm, As the voice of a hymn, the night-falling balm;