While the vault rang with choral harmony,
Like some Nymph-haunted grot beneath the roaring sea,
—No sooner ceased that peal, than on the verge
Of exultation hung a dirge[144]
Breathed from a soft and lonely instrument,
That kindled recollections
Of agonised affections;[BN]
And, though some tears the strain attended,
The mournful passion ended
In peace of spirit, and sublime content!