 | Songs and ballads by Samuel Lover |  |
THE BARD'S FAREWELL.
Farewell, oh farewell, but whenever you give
A thought to the days that are gone,
Of the bright sunny things that in memory live
Let a thought of the minstrel be one.
The hope is but humble—he asks but a share,
But a part of thy memories to be,
While no future to him can in rapture compare
To the past, made enchanting by thee.
A thought to the days that are gone,
Of the bright sunny things that in memory live
Let a thought of the minstrel be one.
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But a part of thy memories to be,
While no future to him can in rapture compare
To the past, made enchanting by thee.
Yes, yes, thou'lt remember the strain that he sang,
And wish that the minstrel were nigh;
Thou wilt turn to the place where his harp used to hang—
And gaze on the void with a sigh.
And tho' glory may welcome the bard on his way,
Less pleasing the loud voice of fame,
Than the soft gentle sigh that rewarded his lay
When it first rose in praise of thy name.
And wish that the minstrel were nigh;
Thou wilt turn to the place where his harp used to hang—
And gaze on the void with a sigh.
And tho' glory may welcome the bard on his way,
Less pleasing the loud voice of fame,
Than the soft gentle sigh that rewarded his lay
When it first rose in praise of thy name.
| Songs and ballads by Samuel Lover | |