Spirit of Love, oh! waft the sigh
With which thou bidd'st my bosom swell,
To her, whose cold, averted eye
Tells she has never known thy spell.
Spirit of Love! at this soft hour,
Thine own sweet hour of witchery,
Subdue her by thy gentle power,
And be that power employ'd by me.
Spirit! I call thee hither by
Yon star of eve, yon placid moon;
Come from thine airy realms on high,
And grant thine ardent vot'ry's boon.
Whisper to her my soul adores,
That memory cheats her when it tries
To paint all joys left on yon shores,
Where the white cliffs of Albion rise.
Tell her that in this sunny isle,
With nature's lavish beauty clad,
For her might peace and pleasure smile,
Youth's rosy morn once more be glad.
Oh! bid her cast the gloom away
That on her lovely brow I see,
And in thy softest accents pray
For one--but one--bright smile to me!
