The Poetical Works of John Critchley Prince Edited by R. A. Douglas Lithgow |
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| VI. | No. VI.
“OH! DESPISE NOT MY HARP.” |
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 | The Poetical Works of John Critchley Prince |  |
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No. VI. “OH! DESPISE NOT MY HARP.”
Oh! despise not my harp,—I have cherished it long,
And its voice hath been hailed by the lovers of song;
It hath been my best solace 'mid labour and care,
And strengthened my soul in the hour of despair:
It hath wakened the spirit of love in my heart,
And raised me bright dreams which can never depart;
But, better than all, from my morning of youth,
It hath sounded for freedom and pleaded for truth.
And its voice hath been hailed by the lovers of song;
It hath been my best solace 'mid labour and care,
And strengthened my soul in the hour of despair:
It hath wakened the spirit of love in my heart,
And raised me bright dreams which can never depart;
But, better than all, from my morning of youth,
It hath sounded for freedom and pleaded for truth.
It hath said to the rich—“Ye are wealthy and great,—
Oh! scorn not the thousands of lowly estate;
For the treasures ye hold, and the powers ye possess,
Were lent you to soften the woes of distress:
A bountiful Providence put you in trust,—
As His stewards on earth be ye gentle and just!
And still let this beautiful truth be believed,
That ‘a blessing bestowed is a blessing received.’”
Oh! scorn not the thousands of lowly estate;
For the treasures ye hold, and the powers ye possess,
Were lent you to soften the woes of distress:
A bountiful Providence put you in trust,—
As His stewards on earth be ye gentle and just!
And still let this beautiful truth be believed,
That ‘a blessing bestowed is a blessing received.’”
It hath said to the poor—“Ye are feeble and frail,
And well may the hand of oppression prevail,
For passion and ignorance rule ye in turn,
As with sadness ye droop, as with anger ye burn:
Indeed ye have sorrows, and heavy ones, too,
And a feeling of wrong which ye cannot subdue;
Let me teach ye to hope and prepare for the day,
When your chains shall be broken, your griefs pass away.”
And well may the hand of oppression prevail,
For passion and ignorance rule ye in turn,
As with sadness ye droop, as with anger ye burn:
Indeed ye have sorrows, and heavy ones, too,
And a feeling of wrong which ye cannot subdue;
175
When your chains shall be broken, your griefs pass away.”
Thus singeth my harp,—thus it ever shall sing,
To the lord and the peasant, the priest and the king;
And though it may pour out its breathings in vain,
It shall never relapse into silence again:
Till the breast of the bondsman with liberty thrill,
The harp of the poet should never be still;
And mine, while the fire in my soul shall endure,
Shall respond unto all that may plead for the poor.
To the lord and the peasant, the priest and the king;
And though it may pour out its breathings in vain,
It shall never relapse into silence again:
Till the breast of the bondsman with liberty thrill,
The harp of the poet should never be still;
And mine, while the fire in my soul shall endure,
Shall respond unto all that may plead for the poor.
| The Poetical Works of John Critchley Prince | |