70 
And now there is a happiness 
In every thing I see, 
Which bids my soul rise up and bless 
The God who blesses me! 
Myrtle. — ‘ Love? 
An influence language cannot describe — which, in different de¬ 
grees, is experienced, probably, once in every life. 
A spell is on my Lyre! — in vain 
I strive its chords to string 
To gayer themes — one only strain 
Its ceaseless echoes bring; 
At morn — at noon — at eventide — 
To change that note I’ve vainly tried. 
