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Some sweetly plaintive melody
At distance seems to fall and die.
With mute delight we hover near
The strains, which still we seem to hear!
To move, to breathe we scarcely dare,
So soft, so sad, so sweet the air!
Nor yet alone by music's art
Can fair Victoria charm the heart!
Whether she join in converse gay,
With arch and playful naïveté;
Or, whether on her pitying breast
She lull a brother's cares to rest;
Still ever lovely, ever dear,
Of temper soft, and heart sincere,
Her varying charms the soul inspire,
And all the beauteous maid admire.
At distance seems to fall and die.
With mute delight we hover near
The strains, which still we seem to hear!
To move, to breathe we scarcely dare,
So soft, so sad, so sweet the air!
Nor yet alone by music's art
Can fair Victoria charm the heart!
Whether she join in converse gay,
With arch and playful naïveté;
Or, whether on her pitying breast
She lull a brother's cares to rest;
Still ever lovely, ever dear,
Of temper soft, and heart sincere,
Her varying charms the soul inspire,
And all the beauteous maid admire.
There grace and symmetry combine,
To mock the sculptor's skill divine,
To mock the sculptor's skill divine,
