 | Miscellanies (1785) |  |
115
MRS. SHERIDAN ON HER BROTHER'S LYRE.
“Sweet instrument of him for whom I mourn,
“Tuneful companion of my Lycid's hours!
“How liest thou neglected and forlorn,
“What skilful hand shall now call forth thy powers!
“Tuneful companion of my Lycid's hours!
“How liest thou neglected and forlorn,
“What skilful hand shall now call forth thy powers!
“Ah! none like his can reach those liquid notes,
“So soft, so sweet, so eloquently clear,
“To live beyond the touch, and gently float
“In dying modulations on the ear.”
“So soft, so sweet, so eloquently clear,
“To live beyond the touch, and gently float
“In dying modulations on the ear.”
116
Thus o'er my Lycid's lyre as I complain'd,
And kiss'd the strings where he was wont to play,
While yet in pensive sadness I remain'd,
Methought it sigh'd, and sighing seem'd to say,
And kiss'd the strings where he was wont to play,
While yet in pensive sadness I remain'd,
Methought it sigh'd, and sighing seem'd to say,
‘Ah! me, forlorn, forsaken, now no more
Shall fame and just applause around me wait;
No power my gentle master can restore,
And I, alas! will share his hapless fate.
Shall fame and just applause around me wait;
No power my gentle master can restore,
And I, alas! will share his hapless fate.
“Fled is that spirit, chill'd that youthful fire,
Which taught those strains with harmony replete,
And cold that hand which only can inspire
My senseless form to utter sounds so sweet.
Which taught those strains with harmony replete,
And cold that hand which only can inspire
My senseless form to utter sounds so sweet.
“Those sounds melodious ne'er again shall please,
No tuneful strain from me shall ever flow;
Save o'er my trembling strings a sighing breeze,
To call one sad, soft note of tender woe.
No tuneful strain from me shall ever flow;
Save o'er my trembling strings a sighing breeze,
To call one sad, soft note of tender woe.
117
“Else, ah! for ever mute let me remain,
Unstrung, untun'd, forgotten let me be;
Guard me from curious eye, and touch prophane,
And let me rest in mournful sympathy!
Unstrung, untun'd, forgotten let me be;
Guard me from curious eye, and touch prophane,
And let me rest in mournful sympathy!
“One fate, with thee, dear Master, let me share
Like thee in silent darkness let me lie!
My frame without thee is not worth my care,
With thee alone it liv'd, with thee shall die!”
Like thee in silent darkness let me lie!
My frame without thee is not worth my care,
With thee alone it liv'd, with thee shall die!”
| Miscellanies (1785) | |