The Poetical Works of the Rev. George Croly In Two Volumes |
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XXXIX. |
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The Poetical Works of the Rev. George Croly | ||
211
XIX.
“Farewell, my gentle harp, farewell,
Thy task shall soon be done,
And she who loved thy lonely spell
Shall like its tones be gone.
Gone to the bed where mortal pain
Pursues the weary heart in vain.
Thy task shall soon be done,
And she who loved thy lonely spell
Shall like its tones be gone.
Gone to the bed where mortal pain
Pursues the weary heart in vain.
“I shed no tears, light passes by
The pang that melts in tears.
The stricken bosom that can sigh,
No mortal arrow bears.
When comes the heart's true agony,
The lip is hush'd and calm the eye.
The pang that melts in tears.
The stricken bosom that can sigh,
No mortal arrow bears.
When comes the heart's true agony,
The lip is hush'd and calm the eye.
“And mine has come, no more I weep
No longer passion's slave,
My sleep must be th'unwaking sleep,
My bed must be the grave.
Through my wild brain no more shall move
Or hope, or fear, or joy, or love.”
No longer passion's slave,
My sleep must be th'unwaking sleep,
My bed must be the grave.
Through my wild brain no more shall move
Or hope, or fear, or joy, or love.”
The Poetical Works of the Rev. George Croly | ||