Page:Songs of the Affections.pdf/222

Bright children of the bard! o'er this green dell
Pass once again, and light it with your spell!

Imogen! fair Fidele! meekly blending
    In patient grief, "a smiling with a sigh;"^[1]
And thou, Cordelia! faithful daughter, tending
    That sire, an outcast to the bitter sky;
Thou of the soft low voice!—thou art not gone!
Still breathes for me its faint and flute-like tone.

And come to me!—sing me thy willow-strain,
    Sweet Desdemona! with the sad surprise
In thy beseeching glance, where still, though vain,
    Undimm'd, unquenchable affection lies;
Come, bowing thy young head to wrong and scorn,
As a frail hyacinth, by showers o'erborne.

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1. 
   
   Nobly he yokes
   
   A smiling with a sigh.
   
   Cymbeline.