神圣竖琴的守护神?你那千变万化、千变万化的歌谣，带着神奇的动人的触感，在我的心中回荡，直到每一根神经，在疯狂的喧嚣中，都有你那神圣的颤动;因为你悦耳的音调，能把迷乱的歌声，在迷乱梦幻的迷宫里，或者用同情的悲怆，用比萨福凄凉的哀歌更甜美柔和的声音来追求灵魂，当她俯身在波浪上唱出她的悲伤，而怜悯的回声在深海上盘旋，直到悦耳的仙女们在珊瑚洞里哭泣。啊!你要飞到哪里去?你的歌声倾泻何处?英国吟游诗人的典范和骄傲!甜蜜的幻想之星，“啊，告诉我，告诉我，在哪里?”说，难道你要把它浪费在那把它带到天上的无形的空气上吗? Or does it court the meed Of proud pre-eminence? Or steals it o'er the glitt'ring Sapphire wave, Calming the tempest with its silver sounds? Or does it charm to love The fond believing maid? Or does it hover o'er the ALPINE steep, Or softly breathing under myrtle shades, With SYMPATHY divine, Solace the child of woe? Where'er thou art, Oh! let thy gentle strain Again with magic pow'r delight mine ear, Untutor'd in the spells, And mysteries of song. Then, on the margin of the deep I'll muse, And bless the rocking bark ordain'd to bear My sad heart o'er the wave, From this ungrateful isle; When the wan queen of night, with languid eye, Peeps o'er the mountain's head, or thro' the vale Illumes the glassy brook, Or dew-besprinkled heath, Or with her crystal lamp, directs the feet Of the benighted TRAV'LLER, cold, and sad, Thro' the long forest drear, And pathless labyrinth, To the poor PEASANT's hospitable cot, For ever open to the wretch forlorn; O, then I'll think on THEE, And iterate thy strain, And chaunt thy matchless numbers o'er and o'er, And I will court the sullen ear of night, To bear the rapt'rous sound, On her dark shad'wy wing, To where encircled by the sacred NINE, Thy LYRE awakes the never-dying song! Now, BARD admir'd, farwel! The white sail flutters loud, The gaudy streamers lengthen in the gale, Far from my native shore I bend my way; Yet, as my aching eye Shall view the less'ning cliff, 'Till its stupendous head shall scarce appear Above the surface of the swelling deep; I'll snatch a ray of hope, For HOPE's the lamp divine That lights and vivifies the fainting soul, With extacies beyond the pow'rs of song! That ere I reach those banks Where the loud TIBER flows, Or milder ARNO slowly steals along, To the soft music of the summer breeze, The wafting wing of TIME May bear this last ADIEU, This wild untutor'd picture of the heart, To HIM, whose magic verse INSPIR'D THE STRAIN.