OH ASK ME NOT FOR SPORTIVE LAYS.
[_]
(Song composed by Mr. Sinclair.)
I
Oh ask me not for sportive lays,
Like those I used to sing;—
The harp you loved in former days,
Has lost its sweetest string!
And if I sing of youthful joys,
I touch my harp in vain:
The loss of that one string destroys
The beauty of the strain!
II
Young love had once a harp they say,
And with a boy's delight,
In summer he would often play
Sweet songs from morn till night.
But winter came, and Cupid cried,
While leaning o'er his lyre,
And now, alas! 'tis thrown aside,
For tears hath spoilt the wire!
