And, on through other realms in charmed life,
I follow'd, by thy silver accents led,
So sweet, the summer air with bliss seem'd rife,
And harping angels hover'd o'er my head.
But yet—farewell! with sadden'd, sinking heart,
I turn from all the joys I late have known,
Where from the rushing crowd I oft shall start,
To find myself dejected and alone.
Yet, sometimes thou return, and with those eyes
Bright as an angel's, look on me again,