Music

O harmony! thou tenderest nurse of pain,
  If that thy note's sweet magic e'er can heal
  Griefs which the patient spirit oft may feel,
  Oh! let me listen to thy songs again;
  Till memory her fairest tints shall bring;
  Hope wake with brighter eye, and listening seem
  With smiles to think on some delightful dream,
  That waved o'er the charmed sense its gladsome wing!
  For when thou leadest all thy soothing strains
  More smooth along, the silent passions meet
  In one suspended transport, sad and sweet;
  And nought but sorrow's softest touch remains;
  That, when the transitory charm is o'er,
  Just wakes a tear, and then is felt no more.