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COMBINATION Si OF VERSES. 99
First Fear his hand, its skill to try,
Amid the chords, bewilder'd laid ; And back recoil'd, he knew not why,
E'en at the sound himself had made. Next Anger rush'd, his eyes on fire,
In lightnings own'd his secret stings ; In one rude clash he struck the lyre,
And swept with hurried hand the strings.
With woeful measure wan Despair—
Low sullen sounds his grief beguiled ; A solemn, strange, and mingled air ;
'Twas sad by fits, by starts 'twas wild.
But thou, O Hope ! with eyes so fair What was thy delighted measure ? Still it whispered promised pleasure, And bade the lovely scenes at distance haiL
Still would her touch the strain prolong ; And from the rocks, the woods, the vale,
She call'd on Echo still through all the song; And where her sweetest theme she chose, A soft responsive voice was heard at every close; And Hope enchanted, smiled and waved her golden hair : And longer had she sung—but with a frown
Revenge impatient rose; He threw his blood-stained sword in thunder down And with a withering look, The war-denouncing trumpet took, And blew a blast so loud and dread, Were ne'er prophetic sounds so full of woe ; And ever and anon he beat The double drum with furious heat; And though sometimes, each dreary pause between, Dejected Pity at his side Her soul-subduing voice applied, Yet still he kept his wild unalter'd mien, While each strain'd ball of sight seem'd bursting from his head. |
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