Ebook The Tuscan

What voices hast thou heard, what hands obeyed,
What love sustained, what lonely vigils blest,
Of those who now arc silent and at rest,
Since thy great maker's hand was on thee laid
In far Cremona, and thy fabric made,
Strong, resonant, of beauty manifest,
In delicate amber like a garment drest,
A type of perfect art no time can fade.
What memories haunt thee of the glorious hour
When wakened by a master's hand, thy voice,
First thrilled with passionate, heart compelling power,
Making thy listeners tremble and rejoice;
As the rich tide of music swept along
In highest ecstasy of wordless song!