On Seeing Mademoiselle *** Dance At The Opera In Paris

What fine aerial Shape,     In orient colours dight,     Springs from the world unknown     Upon my wondering sight?     Loosely through various space     The lovely Figure flows,     And leaves the sleeping air     Unconscious as it goes.     Hark! a spontaneous strain     Its fairy gait attends;     In concord every sound     With every movement blends.     Lo, now! the passive Form     Moves as the music leads;     Each motion from each note,     Harmoniously proceeds.     By the same sense, methinks,     At once I hear and see;     And ears and eyes and mind     Are all one harmony.     Along my shivering nerves     The mingled raptures thrill,     And strangely take my soul,     And rule it as they will;     True to the magic force,     That shifts a thousand ways,     An echo, and a shade,     It answers and obeys.     But ah! the charm expires.     Did Fancy thus deceive?     She smiles, and fondly vain,     Would have me so believe.