37. The Isles of the Sirens
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CEASE, Stranger, cease those piercing notes, |
| The craft of Siren choirs; |
| Hush the seductive voice, that floats |
| Upon the languid wires. |
Music's ethereal fire was given |
| Not to dissolve our clay, |
| But draw Promethean beams from Heaven, |
| And purge the dross away. |
Weak self! with thee the mischief lies, |
| Those throbs a tale disclose; |
| Nor age nor trial has made wise |
| The Man of many woes. |
Off Lisbon.
December 13, 1832. |