Hark! how through many a melting note She now prolongs her lays: How sweetly down the
void they float! The breeze their magic path attends; The stars shine out; the forest bends; The wakeful
heifers graze.
Whoeer thou art whom chance may bring To this sequesterd spot, If then the plaintive Siren
sing, O softly tread beneath her bower And think of Heavens disposing power, Of mans uncertain lot.
O think, oer all this mortal stage What mournful scenes arise: What ruin waits on kingly rage; How
often virtue dwells with woe; How many griefs from knowledge flow; How swiftly pleasure flies!
O sacred bird! let me at eve, Thus wandering all alone, Thy tender counsel oft receive, Bear
witness to thy pensive airs, And pity Natures common cares, Till I forget my own.
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By PanEris
using Melati.
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