Bid your wild symphonies remotely swell,
Borne by the summer-wind from grot and dell;
And touch your viewless harps, and soothe her soul
With soft enchantments and divine control!
Be near, sweet guardians! watch her sacred rest,
When Slumber folds her in his magic vest;
Around her, smiling, let your forms arise,
Return’d in dreams, to bless her mental eyes;
Efface the memory of your last farewell—
Of glowing joys, of radiant prospects tell;