Classic Poem

OCCASIONED BY THE DESCRIPTION OF AN ÆOLIAN HARP . 1754.

Untaught o'er strings to draw the rosin'd bow,
Or melting strains on the soft flute to blow,
With others long I mourn'd the want of skill
Resounding roofs with harmony to fill:
Till happy now the Æolian lyre is known,
And all the powers of music are my own.
Swell all thy notes, delightful harp, O swell!
Inflame thy poet to describe thee well,
When the full chorus rises with the breeze,
Or, slowly sinking, lessens by degrees,
To sounds more soft than amorous gales disclose,
At evening panting on the blushing rose;
More sweet than all the notes that organs breathe,
Or tuneful echoes when they die bequeath,
Oft where some silvan temple decks the grove,
The slave of easy indolence I rove;
There the wing'd breeze the lifted sash pervades,
Each breath is music, vocal all the shades.
Charm'd with the soothing sound, at ease reclin'd,
To fancy's pleasing power I yield my mind:
And now enchanted scenes around me rise,
And some kind Ariel the soft air supplies:
Now lofty Pindus through the shades I view,
Where all the Nine their tuneful art pursue:
To me the sound the panting gale conveys,
And all my heart is ecstasy and praise!
Now to Arcadian plains at once convey'd,
Some shepherd's pipe delights his favourite maid;
Mix'd with the murmurs of a neighbouring stream,
I hear soft notes that suit an amorous theme!
Ah! then a victim to the fond deceit,
My heart begins with fierce desires to beat;
To fancied sighs I real sighs return,
By turns I languish, and by turns I burn.
Ah! Delia, haste! and here attentive prove,
Like me, that " music is the voice of love;"
So shall I mourn my rustic strains no more,
While pleas'd you listen, who could frown before.