Spirit that floatest o’er me now, So beautiful, so bright, I know thee by that lip, that brow, That eye of beaming light. Hail! Sovereign of the golden lyre, Rapture-breathing God, All Hail! We bow beneath thy rod, Who dost, for aye, the glowing thought inspire. Hail! Radiant One, we welcome thee, Heaven-born, holy Poesy! Spirit who weavest Thy sweet spells so strong, Answer me, answer me, Spirit of Song, Where was thy birth-place, Where is thy home, Why, o’er the doom’d earth, Spirit, dost thou roam? “When the dewy earth was young, When the flowers of Eden sprung, When first woman’s smile exprest All the heaven of her breast, Then and there I had my birth, In the infancy of earth. “Angel-hands my cradle made, Woven gay from every flower, And they swung it in the shade, Sheltered from the noon-tide hour, While the balmy air that crept Murmuring thro’ the waving trees, Rocked me gently till I slept In the music of the breeze. “Then, a hollow shell they brought, Strung across with golden wires, Every chord with passion fraught, Thrills with joy, with hope inspires. Angel-songs at eve I heard Rise from many a circling hill, And my harp whene’er ’t is stirr’d Trembles to their cadence still!