There be none of Beauty's daughters / With a magic like thee; / And like music on the waters / Is thy sweet voice to me: / When, as if its sound were causing / The charmed ocean's pausing, / The waves lie still and gleaming, / And the lull'd winds seem dreaming: // And the midnight moon is weaving / Her bright chain o'er the deep; / Whose breast is gently heaving, / As an infant's asleep: / So the spirit bows before thee, / To listen and adore thee; / With a full but soft emotion, / Like the swell of Summer's ocean.(*) Lord Byron (1815) Stanzas for Music © 2009 University of Toronto.