| Castle of Indolence |
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Each Sound too here to Languishment inclin'd,
Lull'd the weak Bosom, and induced Ease. Aerial Music in the warbling Wind, At Distance rising oft, by small Degrees, Nearer and nearer came, till o'er the Trees It hung, and breath'd such Soul-dissolving Airs, As did, alas! with soft Perdition please: Entangled deep in its enchanging Snares, The listening Heart forgot all Duties and all Cares. A certain music, never known before Here lull'd the pensive melancholy mind Full easily obtain'd. Behoves no more That sidelong, to the gently waving wind, To lay the well-tuned instrument reclined; From Which, with airy flying fingers light, Beyond each mortal touch the most refined, The God of Winds drew sound of deep delight: Whence, with just cause, the harp of Aeolus it hight Ah me! What hand can touch the strings so fine? Who, up the lofty diapason roll Such sweet, such sad, such solemn airs divine, Then let them down again into the soul? Now rising love they fann'd; now pleasing dole They breathed, in tender musings, through the heart; And now a graver, sacred strain they stole, As when seraphic hands an hymn impart, Wild-warbling Nature all, above the reach of art! | ||
| James Thomson, 1748 |