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VI.
BIRD, THAT ART SINGING ON EBRO'S SIDE!
Bird, that art singing on Ebro's side,
Where myrtle shadows make dim the tide,
Doth sorrow dwell midst the leaves with thee?
Doth song avail thy full heart to free?
—Bird of the midnight's purple sky!
Teach me the spell of thy melody.
Bird! is it blighted affection's pain,
Whence the sad sweetness flows thro' thy strain?
And is the wound of that arrow still'd,
When thy lone music the leaves hath fill'd?
—Bird of the midnight's purple sky!
Teach me the spell of thy melody.
