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; CHORUS Does he still sing? Methought he rashly cast away his harp When he had lost Eurydice. |