 | Poems by Two Brothers |  |
45
MARIA TO HER LUTE
THE GIFT OF HER DYING LOVER
“O laborum
“Dulce lenimen!”
Horace.
“Dulce lenimen!”
Horace.
I love thee, Lute! my soul is link'd to thee
As by some tie—'tis not a groundless love;
I cannot rouse thy plaintive melody,
And fail its magic influence to prove.
As by some tie—'tis not a groundless love;
I cannot rouse thy plaintive melody,
And fail its magic influence to prove.
I think I found thee more than ever dear
(If thought can work within this fever'd brain)
Since Edward's lifeless form was buried here,
And I deplor'd his hapless fate in vain.
(If thought can work within this fever'd brain)
Since Edward's lifeless form was buried here,
And I deplor'd his hapless fate in vain.
'Twas then to thee my strange affection grew,
For thou wert his—I've heard him wake thy strain:
Oh! if in heaven each other we shall view,
I'll bid him sweep thy mournful chords again.
For thou wert his—I've heard him wake thy strain:
Oh! if in heaven each other we shall view,
I'll bid him sweep thy mournful chords again.
46
I would not change thee for the noblest lyre
That ever lent its music to the breeze:
How could Maria taste its note of fire?
How wake a harmony that could not please?
That ever lent its music to the breeze:
How could Maria taste its note of fire?
How wake a harmony that could not please?
Then, till mine eye shall glaze, and cheek shall fade,
I'll keep thee, prize thee as my dearest friend;
And oft I'll hasten to the green-wood shade,
My hours in sweet, tho' fruitless grief to spend.
I'll keep thee, prize thee as my dearest friend;
And oft I'll hasten to the green-wood shade,
My hours in sweet, tho' fruitless grief to spend.
For in the tear there is a nameless joy;
The full warm gush relieves the aching soul:
So still, to ease my hopeless agony,
My lute shall warble and my tears shall roll.
The full warm gush relieves the aching soul:
So still, to ease my hopeless agony,
My lute shall warble and my tears shall roll.
C. T.
| Poems by Two Brothers | |