Singing

Y spirit like a charmed bark doth swim

Upon the liquid waves of thy sweet singing,

Far away into the regions dim

Of rapture - as a boat, with swift sails winging

Its way adown some many-winding river.

A Fragment: To Music

ILVER key of the fountain of tears,

Where the spirit drinks till the brain is wild;

Softest grave of a thousand fears,

Where their mother, Care, like a drowsy

child,

Is laid asleep in flowers.

Music

O, Music, thou art not the "food

of Love,"

Unless Love feeds upon its own sweet self,

Till it becomes all Music murmurs of.

"Mighty Eagle”

Supposed to Be Addressed to William Godwin

IGHTY eagle! thou that soarest

O'er the misty mountain forest,

And amid the light of morning

Like a cloud of glory hiest,

And when night descends defiest

The embattled tempests' warning!

THE END