Stanzas, by the Author of "Dunluce Castle" [i.e. Edward Quillinan] |
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[Oft, in romantic fantasy of thought] |
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 | Stanzas, by the Author of "Dunluce Castle" |  |
1
[Oft, in romantic fantasy of thought]
Oft, in romantic fantasy of thought,
When holding strange communion with my Heart,
I think it is a Harp, which Nature wrought,
Whence all variety of sounds might part;
Where every passing hand might try its art:
And, though the notes of Joy would suit it best,
And Sorrow's touch its sweetest music thwart,
Yet if ungentle hands its strings addrest,
And bade it thrill with woe, 'twould answer the behest.
When holding strange communion with my Heart,
I think it is a Harp, which Nature wrought,
Whence all variety of sounds might part;
Where every passing hand might try its art:
And, though the notes of Joy would suit it best,
And Sorrow's touch its sweetest music thwart,
Yet if ungentle hands its strings addrest,
And bade it thrill with woe, 'twould answer the behest.
This Heart, this Harp of mine, this public Toy,
Hath now endur'd its three-and-twentieth year,
And, save when Hope hath tried the note of Joy,
(And even her strings were warp'd with Memory's tear,)
All have been sounds of harsh affliction here;
The coarse dull fingers of a vulgar crowd
Have struck it still with insolence severe;
And its indignant answers, deep, not loud,
Acutely sad have been; but not more sad than proud.
Hath now endur'd its three-and-twentieth year,
And, save when Hope hath tried the note of Joy,
(And even her strings were warp'd with Memory's tear,)
All have been sounds of harsh affliction here;
The coarse dull fingers of a vulgar crowd
Have struck it still with insolence severe;
And its indignant answers, deep, not loud,
Acutely sad have been; but not more sad than proud.
2
One string there was upon this injured Harp,
Whence Music of sublimest influence woke;
'Twould sooth my cares when most my cares were sharp,
For with a noble melody it spoke;
'Twas Friendship's string; but that is long since broke:
The hand of Falsehood snapt the chord in twain,
And my whole soul so harrowed with the stroke,
That now, when other hands would try again
To bind that broken string, it spurns them with disdain!
Whence Music of sublimest influence woke;
'Twould sooth my cares when most my cares were sharp,
For with a noble melody it spoke;
'Twas Friendship's string; but that is long since broke:
The hand of Falsehood snapt the chord in twain,
And my whole soul so harrowed with the stroke,
That now, when other hands would try again
To bind that broken string, it spurns them with disdain!
O mournful Harp! and shalt thou never more
Breathe tones at which my wither'd soul may smile?
Alas! the season of delusion's o'er!
That soul hath shrunk beneath the blight of guile;
The pestilential contact of the vile:
Yet, Oh! one more last lofty strain endeavour;
Let Pride sustain thine energy awhile:
Let Pride all softer bonds at once dissever;
Then burst thy strings, O Harp! and silent be for ever!
Breathe tones at which my wither'd soul may smile?
Alas! the season of delusion's o'er!
That soul hath shrunk beneath the blight of guile;
The pestilential contact of the vile:
Yet, Oh! one more last lofty strain endeavour;
Let Pride sustain thine energy awhile:
Let Pride all softer bonds at once dissever;
Then burst thy strings, O Harp! and silent be for ever!
August 12, 1814.
| Stanzas, by the Author of "Dunluce Castle" | |