But hark, what magic sound
Thrilling the ambient air around,
So soft, so gentle—now more loud,
Some seraph, surely, rides upon the cloud;
Or, is it Orpheus with his heav’n-born lay,
Driving the mystic shades of pain away:
Or is it friendship’s dulcet voice, whose strain
Can thus raze out the troubles of the brain;
O yes, ’tis friendship—friendship’s hallow’d song,
To her alone such heavenly powers belong.