Heaven grant thee for my guiding star.
Ask you for music? Go but forth,
And air salutes each varied charm;
The wildest tempest from the north,
Melodious dances o’er thy form.
Would that my tones had winning powers,
Like breezes when they kiss the flowers!
The birds are dumb in dreamy night,
And silent wait the opening day;
But when he brings his wakening light,