That earth and wave in fond enchantment bound.
Within that bark, where flowed the golden light
O’er velvet cushions, ’mid th’ enameled flowers,
Flowed, mingling with those beams, the tresses bright
From a fair brow of girlhood, where the hours
Of earthly life had not o’erhung the bliss
Of heaven’s existence with the clouds of this.
Her hand, scarce resting from the strings it swept,
Lay on a harp whose chords yet felt its thrill,
And fain had breathed the strains that in them slept;