Sonnet on Hearing the Sounds of an Æolian Harp
So ravishingly soft upon the tide
Of the infuriate gust, it did career,
It might have soothed its rugged charioteer,
And sunk him to a zephyr; then it died,
Melting in melody;—and I descried,
Borne to some wizard stream, the form appear
Of Druid sage, who on the far-off ear
Pour’d his lone song, to which the surge replied:
Or thought I heard the hapless pilgrim’s knell,
Lost in some wild enchanted forest’s bounds,
By unseen beings sung; or are these sounds
Such as, ’tis said, at night are known to swell
By startled shepherd on the lonely heath,
Keeping his night-watch sad, portending death?