University of Virginia Library


231

I took the Harp.

1

I took the harp, and would have sung,
But scarcely had its tones awoke,
When lo! a chord too harshly strung,
Beneath my fingers, sighing, broke.

2

'Tis thus the heart of gentle mould
To love, alas, too fondly given,
Ere it can well its tale unfold,
By Beauty's careless touch is riven.

3

And when its sweetest thrill is o'er,
And it has ceased to throb for ever,
Can kindliest smiles its pulse restore,
Or warm it then?—no, never! never!

4

Then, Lady, whilst that heart's awake
Which beats for thee, and thee alone,
Remember that its chords will break,
If with rude hand they're dwelt upon.