And more than echoes talk along the walls.

Echo waits with art and care And will the faults of song repair.

Let echo, too, perform her part, Prolonging every note with art; And in a low expiring strain, Play all the comfort o'er again.

Like but oh! how different!

Never sleeping, still awake, Pleasing most when most I speak; The delight of old and young, Though I speak without a tongue. Nought but one thing can confound me, Many voices jo ...

Sweetest Echo, sweetest nymph, that liv'st unseen Within thy airy shell, By slow Meander's margent green, And in the violet-embroidered vale.

The birds chaunt melody on every bush, The snake lies rolled in the cheerful sun, The green leaves quiver with the cooling wind, And make a checkered shadow on the ground; Under ...

The melancholy ghosts of dead renown, Whispering faint echoes of the world's applause.