Oh, Tuneful Voice! I Still Deplore

Oh, tuneful voice! I still deplore
Those accents which, though heard no more,
Still vibrate in my heart;
In echo's cave I long to dwell,
And still would hear the sad farewell,
When we were doom'd to part.

Bright eyes! O that the task were mine,
To guard the liquid fires that shine,
And round your orbits play--
To watch them with a vestal's care,
And feed with smiles a light so fair,
That it may ne'er decay!