loch long.
To catch each zephyr hovering nigh—
The soft night-breeze of that pure sky,
As ever and anon it came,
Retiring yet, and still the same,
As if it would for ever keep
Its burden on that lonely deep.
Hush! for the voice of song is there,
A wild and melancholy air,
Thrilling the hearts that bark doth bear:
Soft o'er the deep its magic fell,
Bearing a charmed, living spell,
Leaving the heart that mellowed tone
That music gives, and gives alone.
Again a voice in cadence rose
Over that deep and still repose,
And poesy gushed forth its truth
Fresh from the buoyanecy of youth;
And tales of love and gladness woke
In each heart's home; while that voice spoke
Free from the heart, 'twas there to claim
An echo in each listener's frame.
And well it told, for when 'twas o'er,
The soft night-breeze of that pure sky,
As ever and anon it came,
Retiring yet, and still the same,
As if it would for ever keep
Its burden on that lonely deep.
Hush! for the voice of song is there,
A wild and melancholy air,
Thrilling the hearts that bark doth bear:
Soft o'er the deep its magic fell,
Bearing a charmed, living spell,
Leaving the heart that mellowed tone
That music gives, and gives alone.
Again a voice in cadence rose
Over that deep and still repose,
And poesy gushed forth its truth
Fresh from the buoyanecy of youth;
And tales of love and gladness woke
In each heart's home; while that voice spoke
Free from the heart, 'twas there to claim
An echo in each listener's frame.
And well it told, for when 'twas o'er,
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