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Sigh as the wind buffets them, and they

shake

Beneath its blasts a weather-beaten crew!

CHORUS

What wondrous sound is that, mournful and

faint,

But more melodious than the murmuring wind Which through the columns of a temple

glides?

A

It is the wandering voice of Orpheus' lyre, Borne by the winds, who sigh that their rude

king

Hurries them fast from these air-feeding notes;
But in their speed they bear along with them
The waning sound, scattering it like dew
Upon the startled sense.

CHORUS

Does he still sing?

Methought he rashly cast away his harp

When he had lost Eurydice.

Then he struck from forth the strings, A sound of deep and fearful melody."

(From Orpheus.)

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