Jewel! that lay before the heart Of some romantic boy, And startled music in her home, Of mystery and joy! The image of his love was there; And, with her golden wings, She swept their tone of sorrow from Thy melancholy strings! We drew thee, as an orphan one, From waters that had cast No music round thee, as they went In their pale beauty past. No music but the changeless sigh— That murmur of their own, That loves not blending in the thrill Of thine aerial tone. The girl that slumbers at our side Will dream how they are bent, That love her even as they love Thy blessed instrument. And music, like a flood, will break Upon the fairy throne Of her pure heart, all glowing, like A morning star, alone! Alone, but for the song of him That waketh by her side, And strikes thy chords of silver to His fair and sea-borne bride. Jewel! that hung before the heart Of some romantic boy: Like him, I sweep thee with a storm Of music and of joy! And Julio placed the trembling harp before The ladye; till the minstrel winds came o’er Its moisten’d strings, and tuned them with a sigh. “I hear thee, how thy spirit goeth by, In music and in love. Oh, Agathè! Thou sleepest long, long, long; and they will say That seek thee,—‘she is dead—she is no more!’ But thou art cold, and I will throw before Thy chilly brow the pale and snowy sheet.” And he did lift it from her marble feet, The sea-wet shroud! and flung it silently Over her brow—the brow of Agathè! But, as a passion from the mooded mind, The storm had died, and wearily the wind Fell fast asleep at evening, like one That hath been toiling in the fiery sun. And the white sail dropt downward, as the wing Of wounded sea-bird, feebly murmuring Unto the mast—it was a deathly calm, And holy stillness, like a shadow, swam All over the wide sea, and the boat stood, Like her of Sodom, in the solitude, A snowy pillow, looking on the waste. And there was nothing but the azure breast Of ocean and the sky—the sea and sky. And the lone bark; no clouds were floating by Where the sun set, but his great seraph light, Went down alone, in majesty and might; And the stars came again, a silver troop, Until, in shame, the coward shadows droop Before the radiance of these holy gems, That bear the images of diadems!