to deva.
47
No green hair'd Naiad wakes the strain
Which on thy glist'ning breast reposes,
Or floating o'er th' enamel'd plain
Its warbled cadence gently closes.
Which on thy glist'ning breast reposes,
Or floating o'er th' enamel'd plain
Its warbled cadence gently closes.
Yet linger, Deva! tho' the spell
From mortal hand derives its power,
Yet listen to its dulcet swell,
And loiter round yon magic bower!
From mortal hand derives its power,
Yet listen to its dulcet swell,
And loiter round yon magic bower!
For there, tho' human pow'rs preside,
Immortal soul her light diffuses,
There Science, Truth, and Feeling guide,
Nor Taste her potent aid refuses:
Immortal soul her light diffuses,
There Science, Truth, and Feeling guide,
Nor Taste her potent aid refuses:
And see, where bending o'er thy stream
Some musing grace each charm discloses!
Some musing grace each charm discloses!
