And soften'd sounds along the waters die: Smooth flow the waves, the zephyrs gently play.

Soft o'er the shrouds aerial whispers breathe, That seemed but zephyrs to the train beneath.

Lull'd by soft zephyrs thro' the broken pane.

Soft is the strain when zephyr gently blows.

The balmy zephyrs, silent since her death, Lament the ceasing of a sweeter breath.

And soon Their hushing dances languished to a stand, Like midnight leaves when, as the Zephyrs swoon, All on their drooping stems they sink unfanned.