Page:The Golden Violet.pdf/214

Rh

For they were echoes to the song That from spirit lips was fleeting, And the wind bears no charm along Such as the shell and voices meeting. On pass'd they to the lulling tune, Meet pageant for the lady moon. A louder sweep the music gave: The chieftain of the charmed wave, Graceful upon his steed of snow, Rises from his blue halls below; And rode he like a victor knight Thrice glorious in his arms of light. But, oh! the look his features bear Was not what living warriors wear; The glory of his piercing eye Was not that of mortality;