In haste they sought their priestly sire, in haste return'd again;
Return'd to view the elf enthron'd in waters as before,
Whose music now was sighs, whose tears gush'd e'en from his heart's core.
"Why weeping, Neck? look up, and clear those tearful eyes of blue—
Our father bids us say, that thy Redeemer liveth too!"
Oh, beautiful! blest words! they sooth'd the Nikkar's anguish'd breast,
As breezy, angel-whisperings lull holy ones to rest.
He seiz'd his harp—its airy strings, beneath a master hand,
Woke melodies, too, too divine for earth or elfin land;