Borne to thy home of beauty and of thought,
On morning’s wings.
And we will dream it is thy joy we hear,
When life’s young music, ringing far and clear,
O’erflows the sky.
No tears for thee! the lingering gloom is ours—
Thou art for converse with all glorious powers,
Never to die!
TRIUMPHANT MUSIC.
“Tacete, tacete, O suoni trionfanti