LOUISE.
111
"Yet it hath brought upon its wings
Sweet echoes, from the shore
Of many a sunny isle that rings
With music evermore?
Such was thy mind, glorious one,
A realm of endless sound,
A gush—a murmur and a moan
That poured wild music round.
Sweet echoes, from the shore
Of many a sunny isle that rings
With music evermore?
Such was thy mind, glorious one,
A realm of endless sound,
A gush—a murmur and a moan
That poured wild music round.
"And men passed by, and heard thee not,
The great ones and the gay,
Nor knew thy bursting heart was fraught
With glory and decay;
For well I know thy heart expired
With the last sound it wrought;
And well I know thy soul was tired
Of such a world of thought!
The great ones and the gay,
Nor knew thy bursting heart was fraught
With glory and decay;
For well I know thy heart expired
With the last sound it wrought;
And well I know thy soul was tired
Of such a world of thought!
"Is this the fate of Genius? want,
And penury, and woe?
Must they the gifted bosom haunt,
And swell it to overflow?
Then will my steps be never found
Where thou, O Fame! art nigh,
Since the great master of sweet sound,
Beethoven, thus did die."
<<
She paused, and bending o'er the pulseless dead,
Closed the dull eye whence all the soul had fled;
Then kneeling humbly, murmured forth a prayer
For the tired soul that was no longer there!
And penury, and woe?
Must they the gifted bosom haunt,
And swell it to overflow?
Then will my steps be never found
Where thou, O Fame! art nigh,
Since the great master of sweet sound,
Beethoven, thus did die."
<<
She paused, and bending o'er the pulseless dead,
Closed the dull eye whence all the soul had fled;
Then kneeling humbly, murmured forth a prayer
For the tired soul that was no longer there!
