5
And even, amidst the grand and gay, When Music tries her gentlest art, I never hear so sweet a lay, Or one that hangs so round my heart, As that song of the olden time, Falling sad o'er the ear, Like the dream of some village chime, Which in youth we loved to hear.
And when all of this life is gone- Even the hope lingering now, Like the last of the leaves left on Autumn's sear and faded bough- 'Twill seem as still those friends were near Who loved me in youth's early day, If in that parting hour I hear The same sweet notes--and die away To that song of the olden time Breathed like Hope's farewell strain, To say, in some brighter clime Life and youth will shine again.*
The subject of the following lines, exclusive of their intrinsic merit, will hoped, form a surficient apology for their insertion here. On (illegible text) ing There's a safe Omen Tate sung its fullor, Thomcare, Fuz Rytis 1. D. Reynie.
Hush! mave not sigh not, let not breath be leard, Last we should lose it tone, n tool, a word. And all that's sweet in language is combined With all that's sweet in sound. 'Tis almost pain To lose, in Estening, that delicious strain;- There's a song of the olden time he sings, And touches the soul's most sensitive strangs ;
The vision of my early days I see, The dream of youthful fancy visits me Matchless Enchanter! whence derived the power To bring back with thy spell the blissful hour, To give a call, as in my brightest years, Those who have left no long to earth and tears ; Spirit of Melody! By every token- Alas! the strain--the enchantinent broken! Annierary, 18:23
