Glen Collection of printed music > Printed text > Harp of Renfrewshire

262
Where we had lips, whose eveiy breath
More fragrant than the scented wreath
From which the ze^jhyr stole its kiss —
Loaded the atmosphere with bliss !
And ringlets, in whose silken net,
Of shining brown, or raven jet,
There lurked a far more subtle snare
Than those the spider hangs in air !
And sounds on wliich the spirit hung,
Till all unheard the night-bird sung ! —
While friendship, blending every soul.
Threw moonlight beauty o'er the whole !
Then 0, how brightly thou wilt seem
To mingle in that blessed dream,
Such as thou wert in years of youth,
With looks of light, and soul of truth, —
The young and mild and snowy dove
That blessed that little ark of love !
When beauty with her zone had bound thee,
And music seemed to breathe around thee ;—
When the rapt spirit fondly hung
On every murmur of thy tongue,
Or gazed, in cabn and quiet joy,
On the soft lustre of thine eye,
Where dwelt a ray, too bright for sadness,
Yet O, too holy far for gladness !
When o'er thy very faults was thrown
Redeeming sweetness of their own !
With soul too firmly proud to bend,
Yet far to gentle too offend ;
To smile at others' follies prone,
Too honest to conceal thine own ;
In every weakness of thy heart
Some virtue sweetly bore a part ;
And every failing, in its train,