O happy Reader! having for thy text The magic book, whose Sibylline leaves have caught The rarest essence of all human thought! O happy Poet! by no critic vext! How must thy listening spirit now rejoice 25* THE SINGERS. GOD sent his Singers upon the earth The first, a youth, with soul of fire, Held in his hand a golden lyre; Through groves he wandered, and by streams, Playing the music of our dreams. The second, with a bearded face, And stirred with accents deep and loud A gray, old man, the third and last, And those who heard the Singers three For still their music seemed to start But the great Master said: "I see I gave a various gift to each, To charm, to strengthen, and to teach. |