30
O where is now that lovely form?
Where that pure heart in feeling warm?
Where the sweet smiles that nature gave?
They rest in dear Eliza's grave,
In youth's fair spring, in beauty's pride,
In virtue's early prime—she died.
Where that pure heart in feeling warm?
Where the sweet smiles that nature gave?
They rest in dear Eliza's grave,
In youth's fair spring, in beauty's pride,
In virtue's early prime—she died.
Yet still the echoing chambers ring
To fair Victoria's magic string:
Sweet tuneful maid! at her controul
Alternate passions fire the soul!
As o'er her harp with bending grace
The strings her flying fingers trace,
Now lightly rings the sprightly measure
To gayest airs of joy and pleasure:
And now, with high and haughty sound,
The mimic notes of war rebound:
Sudden they pause, and soft and slow,
In murm'ring cadence, sad and low,
To fair Victoria's magic string:
Sweet tuneful maid! at her controul
Alternate passions fire the soul!
As o'er her harp with bending grace
The strings her flying fingers trace,
Now lightly rings the sprightly measure
To gayest airs of joy and pleasure:
And now, with high and haughty sound,
The mimic notes of war rebound:
Sudden they pause, and soft and slow,
In murm'ring cadence, sad and low,
