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83
The Minstrel.
Ah, deem not when thy minstrel tunes
His harp to hours and glories vanished,
His star of stars, his moon of moons,
Can ever from his heart be banish'd.
His harp to hours and glories vanished,
His star of stars, his moon of moons,
Can ever from his heart be banish'd.
Each tune he wakes, each note that takes
And charms the heart, Love's arrow woundeth,
But flows from strings she only rings,
And from a Deep she only soundeth.
And charms the heart, Love's arrow woundeth,
But flows from strings she only rings,
And from a Deep she only soundeth.
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