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MADANA.
Tones, his wand'ring fingers fling
Breeze-like from the trembling string,
Ere he call forth all the fire,
All the passion of the Lyre;
Ere he stir through one deep strain
All the founts of joy and pain.
One full chord is yet unshaken,
One wild note hath yet to waken,
One keen arrow yet to fly—
Tremble! Madana is nigh!
O'er the fatal shaft is thrown
Sweetness all the archer's own;
For his strength in sweetness lies—
Sweetness, that through gentle eyes
(E'en in gazing half withdrawn)
Sheds upon the soul a dawn;
Sweetness ling'ring in a word,
Softly uttered, faintly heard,
Yet within the heart to dwell,
Treasured deep in many a cell,
Long with haunting echoes rife,
When the sounds have died to life;
From that subtle arrow's might,
Vain is wisdom, vain is flight!
Vain the charmer's boasted spell
Mightier charms than his to quell;
Groves of sandal and of balm
Yield no soothing, yield no calm,
Though their odorous branches shed
Fragrant tears upon thy head,
Breeze-like from the trembling string,
Ere he call forth all the fire,
All the passion of the Lyre;
Ere he stir through one deep strain
All the founts of joy and pain.
One full chord is yet unshaken,
One wild note hath yet to waken,
One keen arrow yet to fly—
Tremble! Madana is nigh!
O'er the fatal shaft is thrown
Sweetness all the archer's own;
For his strength in sweetness lies—
Sweetness, that through gentle eyes
(E'en in gazing half withdrawn)
Sheds upon the soul a dawn;
Sweetness ling'ring in a word,
Softly uttered, faintly heard,
Yet within the heart to dwell,
Treasured deep in many a cell,
Long with haunting echoes rife,
When the sounds have died to life;
From that subtle arrow's might,
Vain is wisdom, vain is flight!
Vain the charmer's boasted spell
Mightier charms than his to quell;
Groves of sandal and of balm
Yield no soothing, yield no calm,
Though their odorous branches shed
Fragrant tears upon thy head,
