The Huron Chief, and Other Poems

by Adam Kidd


 

TO MISS E—— R——,

ON HEARING HER SING A BEAUTIFUL INDIAN MELODY, ACCOMPANYING HERSELF ON THE PIANO.


Dwells there no joy in song?—OSSIAN.

Oh, yes! my fairest, there is a feeling,
    Alone conveyed through the tide of song.
Which, like enchantment, comes softly stealing,
    When lips like thine its sweet notes prolong.

And I could wish here to pause with pleasure,
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    Catching each soft melting tone that falls,
In purest rapture, like fairy measure,
    Which joys departed once more recalls.

And from each chord that now pliant trembles,
    Sweet notes come flowing, like the strains you pour,
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While every thrill which that chord resembles,
    Awakes a joy here unfelt before. [Page 133]

Oh! could such moments but last for ever,
    No other home I’d seek for purer bliss—
Ah, no! dear girl, I would wander never
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    From you, and raptures which hallow this. [Page 134]