And thoughts which sprang from virtue's The softest sounds that Music flings, source, In all its glances shone: Orbs of more brilliant light I've seen, But none more tenderly serene. Nor was the language of thy soul In smiles that banish'd grief's control, Of truth, of tenderness, of love- In passing, from her heaven-plum'd wings, And thus life's sweetest bliss is known But is it not, from hence, more pure, Ethereal, and divine? Yea! and its essence will endure When stars have ceas'd to shine. Time may the glowing canvass stain, Oblivion quench the poet's strain; But virtues which entwine Their memory with undying love, Endure unchangeably above. |