"Full often has it seen her weep,
"And fix her eye upon its flame.
"Till, weary, she has sunk to sleep,
"Repeating her beloved's name.
"Then love the Lamp--'twill often lead
"Thy step through learning's sacred way;
"And when those studious eyes shall read,
"At midnight, by its lonely ray,
"Of things sublime, of nature's birth,
"Of all that's bright in heaven or earth,
Oh, think that she, by whom 'twas given,
"Adores thee more than earth or heaven!"
Yes--dearest Lamp, by every charm
On which thy midnight beam has hung;
The head reclined, the graceful arm
Across the brow of ivory flung;
The heaving bosom, partly hid,
The severed lips unconscious sighs,
The fringe that from the half-shut lid
Adown the cheek of roses lies;
By these, by all that bloom untold,
And long as all shall charm my heart,
I'll love my little Lamp of gold--
My Lamp and I shall never part.
And often, as she smiling said,
In fancy's hour thy gentle rays
Shall guide my visionary tread
Through poesy's enchanting maze.
Thy flame shall light the page refined,
Where still we catch the Chian's breath,
Where still the bard though cold in death,
Has left his soul unquenched behind.
Or, o'er thy humbler legend shine,
Oh man of Ascra's dreary glades,
To whom the nightly warbling Nine
A wand of inspiration gave,
Plucked from the greenest tree, that shades
The crystal of Castalia's wave.
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