 | Lyrical and other poems |  |
THIS LONELY ROCK
This lonely rock at least, is free,
And here my harp may wake
Unheard, the song that breathes of thee,
Remember'd for thy sake.
That lyre so loved in other days,
Tho' now so faint its swell,
That they who join the voice of praise,
Can scarcely deem its mournful lays
Ere own'd one charm, or spell.
And here my harp may wake
Unheard, the song that breathes of thee,
Remember'd for thy sake.
That lyre so loved in other days,
Tho' now so faint its swell,
That they who join the voice of praise,
48
Ere own'd one charm, or spell.
Its chords in mournful silence, long
Neglected, lay unknown,
Till memory kindled up the song,
Which brightened into tone.
And o'er the wires where passion sigh'd,
Exerts her ling'ring pow'r
With all the spirits former pride—
Whilst Feeling as her fingers glide,
Still weeps an endless show'r.
Neglected, lay unknown,
Till memory kindled up the song,
Which brightened into tone.
And o'er the wires where passion sigh'd,
Exerts her ling'ring pow'r
With all the spirits former pride—
Whilst Feeling as her fingers glide,
Still weeps an endless show'r.
And here shall fancy yet renew
The measures of that tone,
Which brings to memory's treasured view
The raptures she has known.
Ah! better here in solitude,
With only memory's lyre,
To charm away the haggard mood
That still on feeling will intrude
'Till feeling's self expire.
The measures of that tone,
Which brings to memory's treasured view
The raptures she has known.
Ah! better here in solitude,
With only memory's lyre,
To charm away the haggard mood
That still on feeling will intrude
'Till feeling's self expire.
| Lyrical and other poems | |