

en ee 
| FLORA S§ ALBUM. 

| Bundles of Reeds. 
SS OF MUSIC. 
Music! Oh how faint, how weak, 
Language fades before thy spell! 
fa Why should Feeling ever speak, 
he: in When thou canst breathe her soul so well ? 
i Friendship’s balmy words may feign, 
m4 Love’s are e’en more false than they ; 
Oh! °t is only Music’s strain 
e pe Can sweetly soothe, and not betray. 
nd priest 
THomas Moore. 
The man that hath no music in himself, 
if Nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds, 
4 Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils; 
The motions of his spirit are dull as night, 
Uy, And his affections dark as Erebus: 
; Let no such man be trusted. 
SHAKSPHARE. 
yy 
a Bring Music! stir the brooding air 
el With an ethereal breath ! 
hi Bring sounds, my struggling soul to bear 
Up from the couch of death! 
Mrs. ILEMANs. 














