XXIII.

Enchanting visions sooth my sight--

The finer arts no more oppress'd,

Benignant source of pure delight!

On her soft bosom love to rest.

While each discordant sound expires,

Strike harmony! strike all thy wires;

The fine vibrations of the spirit move

And touch the springs of rapture and of love.

Poems (1786), Volume I. · 第 68 / 145 题